Why do I crave physical touch but feel anxious receiving it from others?

Mirabai knew this paradox well—the ache for connection so deep it becomes almost unbearable, yet the vulnerability of being touched can feel terrifying. Touch is intimate exposure. It asks us to be present, to be known in our bodies, to trust that we won't be harmed or abandoned in that moment. If you've learned to protect yourself through distance, your nervous system might be working overtime, creating that push-pull: wanting closeness while bracing against it. This isn't broken. It's a reasonable response to uncertainty. Start where you are. Notice what small touches feel safe—a hand on your shoulder, a hug from someone you deeply trust. The examined heart, as Mirabai lived, means getting curious about your own resistance without judgment. What are you actually afraid will happen? Sometimes naming it quiets the fear enough to let someone in, slowly. Grief often lives here too—mourning the touch you didn't receive, or the safety you needed. That grief is valid and, paradoxically, can be the doorway to healing.