Upcoming Retreat
Cuddle Therapy Retreat Immersive
August 7-10, 2025 in Upstate New YorkJoin us for a healing and memorable long-weekend retreat, where we’ll connect more deeply with one other—and tend to the parts of ourselves that need more love. In this sacred container, participants will experience platonic intimacy and have the opportunity to practice mutual consent and boundary-setting with five Certified Cuddle Therapists. In community, we will process any emotions that arise, share nourishing meals and space with one another, and have plenty of time for rest and relaxation. Includes accommodations, private chef, cuddle therapy, group work, sound healing and access to all amenities. Learn more »
Is Platonic Intimacy Part of the Cure?
We live in a culture where consent is often framed in the negative—what we say no to—rather than as an active, enthusiastic practice of voicing what we desire and need. This creates a dynamic where boundaries are seen as walls instead of bridges to deeper trust and intimacy.
Boundaries must be learned, and when they are, the colonized approach is toward individualism. Rather than seeing boundaries as tools that help us connect more authentically, they are often wielded as a means of disconnection—reinforcing the idea that self-sufficiency is the ultimate goal rather than mutual care.
Consumerism, patriarchal norms, and supremacy culture reinforce the idea that we must earn love, that our worth is tied to productivity, and that dependence on others is a form of failure. This keeps us locked in cycles of loneliness and disconnection, afraid to reach for the very thing that could heal us: each other.
The bridge back to ourselves is that we must first unlearn the shame around having needs at all, then around needing others. This means practicing vulnerability, normalizing platonic intimacy, and actively seeking spaces where we can experience connection in ways that honor both our autonomy and our interdependence.
What Is Platonic Intimacy?
When someone asks me what I do these days, I respond, “I’m really good at loving people through life transitions.” That takes different forms—from trauma-informed leadership coaching to energy integration work to cuddle therapy—and I’m currently training to be an end-of-life doula (the ultimate life transition).
Nearly every time, professional cuddling is what everyone is most curious about.
Of course, I understand why. In our society, not only is platonic physical intimacy not normalized, it is unheard of to pay a stranger to hold you! And, yes, cuddle therapy (or platonic touch work) is a very real thing, complete with a Code of Conduct. More than mere cuddling, it’s a sacred container where clients practice consent, voicing their needs, and stating their boundaries. Certified practitioners ensure that each session is client-led. It’s strictly non-romantic, non-sexual, and incredibly tender work.
Wait, Cuddle Therapy is a Real Thing?!
Yes! Clients seek out a cuddle therapist for many different reasons, including (but certainly not limited to):
loneliness, isolation or touch deprivation (regardless of partnership status);
touch aversion from physical abuse, sexual abuse, violence or neglect;
anxiety, social anxiety or chronic stress;
difficulty forming connections with others;
a desire for a supportive space to receive non-sexual physical affection.
I’m sure there are at least a dozen questions swirling in your mind at this point, so I can either answer those in the comments section, offline, or perhaps that’s a Part II post.
Redefining Radical
In a recent conversation with a psychotherapist about cuddle therapy, we discussed how complementary our respective modalities are. As a professional Cuddlist®, I get to care about and love my clients wholeheartedly, there’s no treatment plan because sessions are client-led and I see them as inherently whole, and of course, there is the element of platonic touch. Clinicians, like cognitive behavioral therapists (or talk therapists) and psychiatrists focus more on diagnoses, pathology and treatment, and they certainly cannot touch clients for both ethical and potential legal reasons.
We landed on the notion that this is actually not “radical” at all; it’s human connection. I summarized, “your work is with the mind, mine is about the embodied experience.” Ultimately, my clients report that pairing these two modalities has been transformative.
Imagine a world where people felt more connected to their own bodies and therefore developed a greater capacity to relate, repair and deepen connection with others. Personally, I do believe that this work has the potential to cure so much of what ails us a nation of citizens disconnected from nature, our own emotions, and one another. That lie we were fed about “rugged individualism” hasn’t gotten us anywhere but further apart.
Connection as Collective Liberation
When we talk about connection as healing, we cannot ignore its role in collective liberation. Systems of oppression thrive on disconnection—on keeping people isolated, competitive, and distrustful of one another. When we reclaim intimacy in all its forms—whether through shared meals, organizing together, or even platonic touch—we are resisting those systems.
Liberation is not an individual pursuit; it is a relational one. The more we practice showing up for one another, the more we rewire ourselves to trust that we are not alone. This is why mutual aid is so powerful—not just because it meets material needs, but because it reaffirms our interconnectedness.
“This system, doesn’t want us to heal. It wants exhausted, isolated, and too burnt out to organize. Interdependence isn’t weakness, it’s how humans have always survived. Learning to tolerate the discomfort of interdependence is a skill we can develop. Because the truth is, we were never meant to do this alone. And our way out of fascism requires us to work together.”
— Erin Spahr
Healing is not just about personal well-being; it is about creating communities where no one has to navigate hardship alone. It is about building networks of care that allow us to thrive rather than merely survive.
What would it look like to structure our lives around interdependence rather than self-sufficiency? What if our default was to lean into one another rather than away? Perhaps then, the path to liberation would feel a little less lonely—and a lot more possible.
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