As healing professionals, we’re witnessing something quietly unraveling in our culture. I am referring to what often walks into our therapy rooms cloaked in anxiety, disconnection, or a lingering sense of isolation. Beneath these surface struggles, I see a growing rupture in the way people relate to vulnerable intimacy. In this digital age, intimacy is often redefined by machines.

The nervous system is remarkably adaptive. It learns from repetition. What happens when that repetition is rooted in porn, AI-generated relationships, or virtual intimacy? We see a movement from connection interpersonally to a connection to “stimulation”, devoid of human face to face embodiment. Instead of co-regulating with another living, breathing human; where complexity, presence, and attunement are required, many are bonding with something artificial and predictable. There’s no risk. No messiness. No negotiation. And that’s exactly the problem.

We’re outsourcing connection to machines that don’t feel, sense, or breathe. The body can feel the difference, but the mind might get tricked into thinking it is the same. True intimacy lives in the body. It depends on micro-movements: breath rhythms, eye contact, skin temperature, scent. These cues are the nervous system’s language for trust and connection.

When intimacy is replaced by visual, fast-paced digital stimulation, especially porn, the body adapts. Arousal no longer builds through presence, touch, or warmth. Instead, we see it responding to speed, novelty, and detachment. I see the fallout in clients of all ages: erectile issues, low desire, anxiety, and a subtle but deep grief for the intimacy they can’t seem to access anymore.

In my work with emerging adults, I see an increasing delay in launching from adolescence into adulthood, where purpose, career, and relationships demand maturity. Many are caught in digital loops: porn, gaming, AI “companions,” social media feedback. These offer a false sense of connection such as intimacy without rejection, without compromise, without discomfort. That lack of friction and conflict also stunts emotional growth. We also need friction to sustain sexual arousal over a lifespan. Without the tension as part of the experience, we truncate the anticipation and development of sustained appealing sexual intimacy. This isn’t just about sex. It’s about attachment.

We need challenge, relational tension, and mutuality to mature. Without these, young adults often feel unmoored, lonely, and unmotivated or cut off from both others and themselves.

AI can be a helpful guide for reflection, education, and data support. But when it becomes a primary attachment source, we’re in trouble. We must return to balance where technology supports our humanity rather than replaces it. Somatic practice offers a path back.

Healing intimacy wounds caused by digital overdependence starts in the body. Quitting tech altogether is not the answer of course. Instead, let’s retrain the nervous system to attune to human rhythms again.

The place to start is through slowing arousal patterns through breath and mindful movement. Then shift to reengaging the senses through touch, eye contact, voice (making sounds to move energy), and scent (such as exposing yourself to flowers, essential oils and cooking something yummy). Finally, relearn pacing through real alive face to face relationships. This may take time; they are not instant downloads and need exposure for unfolding. These practices help the body remember what real connection feels like and build the capacity to stay with it, even when it’s imperfect.

If you’re struggling in the aftermath of digital disconnection, I invite to focus on presence before performance. Rebuild safety through touch, communication, and slowness. Finally, name what’s been lost; not to blame, but to grieve and rebuild. Shift desire toward real connection, instead of quick gratification. At the heart of this issue is a simple truth: real intimacy is slow. It’s vulnerable. It asks us to show up, stay present, and be changed by one another. Machines don’t ask that of us. But people do. I remind you that embodiment is the doorway to love and presence is the path. We are wired for each other, not for machines. Thankfully, it’s not too late to remember what it means to be fully, gloriously, human.