How to Get Contacts Out: A Real Person's Experience with Every Method That Actually Works

I've been wearing contact lenses for twenty-three years. That's roughly 8,400 times I've taken them out, give or take a few hundred for those rebellious teenage years when I'd sleep in them (don't do that). You'd think after all this time, removing contacts would be as automatic as breathing. Yet just last week, I spent fifteen minutes in front of my bathroom mirror, looking like I was trying to perform some bizarre eye yoga, all because one stubborn lens decided it wasn't ready to leave the party.

The truth about removing contact lenses is that nobody really teaches you properly. Your eye doctor shows you once, maybe twice if you're lucky, then sends you home with a starter pack and a prayer. Most of us figure it out through trial, error, and occasionally some mild panic when a lens decides to migrate to parts unknown.

The Basic Removal That Works (Most of the Time)

Let me paint you a picture of the standard removal technique - the one they teach you at the optometrist's office. You wash your hands thoroughly (and I mean thoroughly - we're talking full surgical scrub energy here), dry them with a lint-free towel, then look up while pulling down your lower eyelid. With your other hand, you're supposed to gently pinch the lens between your thumb and index finger.

Sounds simple, right? Here's what they don't tell you: your eye has approximately zero interest in letting go of that lens. It's formed a bond. They've become friends. Your contact lens has essentially become one with your cornea, and separating them requires the delicate touch of a safecracker combined with the determination of someone trying to open a pickle jar.

The key - and I discovered this after years of fumbling - is to break the seal first. Before you even attempt the pinch, gently press the lens and slide it slightly down onto the white part of your eye. This breaks that vacuum seal that forms between the lens and your cornea. Once it's on the sclera (the white part), the lens becomes infinitely more cooperative.

When Things Go Sideways (Literally)

Sometimes your contact lens develops a mind of its own. You blink wrong, rub your eye, or maybe Mercury is in retrograde, and suddenly that lens has migrated somewhere into the mysterious regions of your eye socket. First time this happened to me, I was convinced I'd somehow pushed it into my brain. Spoiler alert: that's anatomically impossible, but try telling that to a panicked 16-year-old.

Here's what actually happens - the lens usually slides up under your upper eyelid or, less commonly, gets tucked into the lower fornix (that's the pocket where your eyelid meets your eyeball). The solution? Look in the opposite direction of where you think the lens went. If you suspect it's hiding under your upper lid, look down hard and gently massage your eyelid downward. The lens will usually slide back into view like a shy performer taking the stage.

I once spent an entire dinner party with a lens lodged under my upper eyelid because I was too embarrassed to excuse myself and fix it. By dessert, my eye was so irritated I looked like I'd been crying through the appetizer course. Learn from my mistakes - just excuse yourself and handle it.

The Stubborn Lens Situation

Then there's the lens that simply refuses to budge. Maybe your eyes are dry, maybe you've been wearing them too long, or maybe the contact lens gods have decided today is the day they test your patience. This is when people start doing dangerous things like using their fingernails (please don't) or pulling at their eyelids like they're made of taffy.

Here's my foolproof method for the stubborn lens: rewetting drops. Not just any drops - use the ones specifically made for contact lens wearers. Put a drop or two directly onto the lens, blink a few times, wait about thirty seconds, then try again. The lens needs moisture to release properly. Think of it like trying to peel a sticker off dry versus wet - same principle.

If that doesn't work, here's a trick an old optometrist taught me: fill your palm with saline solution, press your eye into your palm (yes, it feels weird), and blink several times. The lens often just floats right out. It's not elegant, but it works.

The Special Cases Nobody Warns You About

Let's talk about those special situations that contact lens pamphlets conveniently ignore. Like removing lenses with long nails. I went through a phase where I had acrylics, and let me tell you, it was like trying to perform surgery while wearing oven mitts. The solution? Use the pads of your fingers, not the tips. Approach from a wider angle and be patient. Some people swear by those little suction cup tools, but personally, I find them more trouble than they're worth.

Or what about removing lenses when your hands are shaking? Maybe you've had too much coffee, maybe you're nervous, or maybe you're just cold. The trick here is to stabilize your hand by resting your wrist on something solid - the edge of the sink, your cheek, whatever works. Create a stable base and the tremors become much less of an issue.

And then there's my personal favorite challenge: removing contacts after cutting jalapeños. Yes, I've made this mistake. Yes, it was exactly as bad as you're imagining. No amount of hand washing seemed to help. The solution? Time and milk. Soak your fingers in milk (the fat binds to the capsaicin), then wash thoroughly with dish soap. Or better yet, wear gloves when handling spicy foods if you know you'll need to touch your eyes later.

The Emotional Side Nobody Talks About

Here's something weird - removing contacts can be oddly emotional. Not in a crying way (though that happens too when you poke yourself in the eye for the fifth time), but in a ritualistic, end-of-day way. For many of us, taking out our contacts signals the transition from public life to private life. It's the moment when we officially declare the day's visual obligations complete.

I've noticed that my contact removal technique directly correlates with my stress levels. Calm day? They slide out like butter. Stressful day? It's like my eyes are holding those lenses hostage, refusing to let go of the last vestige of my public persona.

The Evolution of Technique

Over the years, I've noticed my removal technique has evolved. In my teens and twenties, I was aggressive about it - quick pinches, impatient tugging. Now in my forties, I've developed what I call the "zen removal." I take my time, breathe deeply, and approach the task with the patience of someone who's learned that rushing only makes things worse.

I've also discovered that different brands of contacts require different techniques. Those ultra-thin daily lenses? They need a gentler touch and often benefit from the slide-down method. The thicker monthly lenses? They can handle a more direct approach. It's like each brand has its own personality, and you need to learn to speak its language.

The Backup Plans

Every contact lens wearer needs a solid backup plan. Mine involves always keeping a travel-size bottle of saline solution in my bag, car, and desk drawer. I've learned to recognize the early signs of a difficult removal situation - that slight sticking sensation, the subtle discomfort that says "this isn't going to be easy."

When I travel, I pack extra solution and even a spare pair of glasses in my carry-on. Nothing ruins a vacation faster than being unable to remove your contacts and having no backup vision plan. Trust me on this one - I once spent an entire evening in Paris squinting at the Eiffel Tower because I'd forgotten my glasses and couldn't get my dried-out contacts to budge.

The Reality Check

Look, despite all these tips and tricks, sometimes removing contacts is just going to be a pain. Sometimes you'll poke yourself in the eye. Sometimes you'll drop a lens down the drain (pro tip: always close the drain first). Sometimes you'll spend ten minutes convinced you've lost a lens in your eye only to find it stuck to your bathroom mirror.

This is normal. This is part of the contact lens experience. Anyone who tells you they've never had a contact lens mishap is either lying or has only been wearing them for a week.

The important thing is to stay calm, be patient with yourself, and remember that your eye is tougher than you think. It can handle a few pokes and prods. Just be gentle, use plenty of solution, and when all else fails, give your eyes a break and try again in a few minutes.

After more than two decades of contact lens wear, I've learned that the key to successful removal isn't just technique - it's attitude. Approach it with patience, respect the process, and always, always wash your hands first. Your eyes will thank you, and you'll avoid joining the ranks of us who've learned these lessons the hard way.

Authoritative Sources:

American Academy of Ophthalmology. Clinical Optics. San Francisco: American Academy of Ophthalmology, 2020.

Bennett, Edward S., and Barry A. Weissman. Clinical Contact Lens Practice. Philadelphia: Lippincott Williams & Wilkins, 2005.

Efron, Nathan. Contact Lens Practice. 3rd ed., Elsevier, 2018.

Gasson, Andrew, and Judith Morris. The Contact Lens Manual: A Practical Guide to Fitting. 4th ed., Butterworth-Heinemann, 2010.

Phillips, Anthony J., and Lynne Speedwell, editors. Contact Lenses. 6th ed., Elsevier, 2019.