How to Put Contacts In: A Personal Journey Through the Art of Contact Lens Insertion

The first time I tried to put in contact lenses, I stood in front of my bathroom mirror for forty-five minutes, blinking like a confused owl. My optometrist had made it look so easy—a quick touch to the eye, and voilà. But there I was, my finger hovering millimeters from my eyeball, every instinct screaming at me to stop. If you're reading this, chances are you've been there too, or you're about to be.

Contact lens insertion is one of those skills that seems impossibly difficult until suddenly it isn't. It's like riding a bike, except the bike is microscopic and you're trying to balance it on your eyeball. After years of wearing contacts and helping friends overcome their initial terror, I've learned that success isn't just about technique—it's about understanding the psychology of touching your own eye and developing a personal rhythm that works for you.

The Mental Game Nobody Talks About

Your eyes have spent your entire life protecting themselves. They've perfected the art of the defensive blink, shutting faster than you can say "contact lens" whenever anything approaches. This isn't a design flaw; it's evolution's way of keeping you from accidentally poking yourself blind. So when you're trying to override millions of years of protective instinct, of course it feels wrong.

I remember my optometrist telling me to "just relax," which is about as helpful as telling someone afraid of heights to "just don't look down." The truth is, you need to acknowledge the weirdness. Yes, you're about to touch your eye. Yes, it feels unnatural. And yes, you're going to be fine.

The breakthrough for me came when I stopped fighting my reflexes and started working with them. Instead of trying to suppress every blink, I learned to anticipate them. I'd let myself blink a few times, then use that brief moment of calm afterward to make my move. Your eyes can't maintain maximum defense forever—they need breaks, and that's your window.

Setting Yourself Up for Success

Before you even think about touching that lens, let's talk environment. I've tried putting contacts in everywhere from airplane bathrooms to camping trips, and I can tell you that your first attempts should happen in the most controlled setting possible.

Find a well-lit spot where you can see clearly in a mirror. Natural light is fantastic if you can manage it—I used to stand by my bedroom window in the morning sun. The bathroom might seem logical, but keep that toilet lid closed. Nothing ruins your morning quite like fishing a contact out of the bowl. Trust me on this one.

Your hands need to be clean, but here's something they don't always tell you: avoid moisturizing soaps. That lavender-scented hand cream might make your skin feel lovely, but it leaves a film that can transfer to your lenses. I learned this the hard way when my eyes felt like they were coated in lotion for hours. Stick to basic, unscented soap and rinse thoroughly. Then dry with a lint-free towel—paper towels work in a pinch, but those tiny fibers have a way of finding your contacts.

The Lens Prep Ritual

Every contact lens wearer develops their own pre-insertion ritual. Mine involves a specific order that I follow religiously, because breaking routine is how mistakes happen. I always start with my right lens—not because it matters physiologically, but because consistency reduces confusion. There's nothing quite like the panic of wondering whether you've already put in your left lens or if it's just stuck to your finger.

Take the lens out of its case or packaging and place it on the tip of your index finger. Here's where people often go wrong: they balance it precariously on the very tip, like a tiny hat. Instead, let it sit on the pad of your fingertip, where it's stable and you have more control.

Now comes the inspection phase. Hold the lens up to the light and check its shape. A correctly oriented lens looks like a perfect little bowl with edges that curve inward. An inside-out lens has edges that flare outward slightly, like a plate. Some brands have indicator markings—usually numbers or letters that appear correctly when the lens is right-side out. But honestly, after a while, you'll know by feel. An inside-out lens feels wrong on your eye, like wearing your shirt backward.

Check for debris, tears, or anything unusual. I once spent ten minutes trying to insert a lens that had a tiny tear, wondering why it kept folding on itself. If something looks off, don't risk it. Your eyes are worth more than the cost of a replacement lens.

The Approach: Where Theory Meets Reality

This is where most guides lose touch with reality. They'll tell you to "hold your upper eyelid with one hand and lower eyelid with the other," as if you're performing surgery. In practice, everyone develops their own technique based on their eye shape, hand steadiness, and personal comfort level.

I use what I call the "two-finger stretch." My middle finger pulls down my lower lid while my non-dominant hand reaches over my head to hold the upper lid. This might sound like contact lens Twister, but it gives me maximum eye opening with minimal shake. Some people prefer the one-handed method, using their middle finger to pull down the lower lid while the index finger of the same hand carries the lens. Others barely hold their lids at all, relying on willpower to keep their eye open.

The key is finding what works for your anatomy. I have a friend with naturally wide eyes who barely needs to hold anything. Meanwhile, my sister has to practically pry her eyes open like she's in A Clockwork Orange. Neither approach is wrong.

The Moment of Truth

When you're ready to actually place the lens, look straight ahead at yourself in the mirror. This is crucial—don't look at the approaching lens. Your brain will freak out and trigger the blink reflex. Instead, focus on your own pupil in the mirror and let your peripheral vision guide your finger.

Move slowly but deliberately. Hesitation is your enemy here. I've watched people do this strange hovering dance, moving their finger in and out without committing. Each failed attempt makes the next one harder because your eye gets more irritated and defensive.

When the lens makes contact with your eye, don't immediately pull your finger away. Let it settle for a split second. The lens needs a moment to adhere to your tear film. Then slowly release your eyelids and close your eye gently. Don't squeeze—you're not trying to juice a lemon. Just a soft, normal blink to help the lens settle into place.

When Things Go Sideways (And They Will)

Let's be real: not every insertion goes smoothly. Sometimes the lens folds in half the moment it touches your eye. Sometimes it sticks to your finger instead of transferring. Sometimes it ends up on your cheek, and you wonder how you missed your eye by that much.

The folded lens scenario used to send me into a panic. I'd frantically try to unfold it with my finger, usually making things worse. Now I know to just blink normally a few times. The lens usually unfolds itself. If it doesn't, close your eye and gently massage your eyelid in a circular motion. Still no luck? Take it out and start over. It's not a failure; it's practice.

If the lens won't transfer from your finger to your eye, you're probably too wet or too dry. Shake your finger gently to remove excess solution, but don't let the lens dry out completely. It's a delicate balance that you'll develop a feel for over time.

The worst is when you think the lens is in, but you can't find it. Before you panic about it being lost behind your eyeball (anatomically impossible, by the way), check the obvious places. Look down and check your cheek. Check your finger. Check the mirror—I once found a lens stuck to my bathroom mirror, perfectly at eye height. The lens has to be somewhere, and it's usually somewhere ridiculous.

The Learning Curve Is Real

It took me two weeks to get comfortable putting in contacts. Two weeks of morning battles with my own reflexes, of showing up to work suspiciously late, of wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake choosing contacts over glasses. But somewhere around day ten, something clicked. My hands knew where to go, my eyes stopped fighting so hard, and what had taken thirty minutes now took thirty seconds.

Everyone's timeline is different. I've known people who nail it on day one (I'm still slightly suspicious of these individuals) and others who take a month to feel confident. Neither timeline is wrong. Your eyes are unique, your reflexes are your own, and comparing yourself to others only adds unnecessary pressure.

Beyond the Basics: Advanced Comfort Tips

Once you've mastered basic insertion, you can start refining your technique. Temperature matters more than you might think. Room-temperature solution is much more comfortable than cold. In winter, I sometimes warm the contact case in my hands for a minute before opening it.

The time of day affects ease of insertion too. Morning eyes are often drier and more sensitive. If you're struggling with morning insertions, try using rewetting drops first, or practice in the evening when your eyes are more relaxed.

Some people find that looking slightly to the side, rather than straight ahead, makes insertion easier. The lens still goes on the center of your eye, but approaching from a slight angle can reduce the blink reflex. It's unconventional, but if it works, it works.

The Psychological Shift

The real transformation happens when putting in contacts stops being an event and becomes just another part of your routine. You'll know you've reached this point when you can put them in while half-asleep, or while having a conversation, or in the dim light of a hotel bathroom.

But even then, respect the process. I've been wearing contacts for over a decade, and I still occasionally have a morning where my eye just says "nope." On those days, I don't force it. I wear my glasses and try again tomorrow. Forcing a lens into an unwilling eye is a recipe for a miserable day.

Final Thoughts from the Other Side

If you're struggling with contact insertion, know that you're in good company. Every contact lens wearer has been where you are, standing in front of a mirror, finger trembling, wondering why they thought this was a good idea. But we all made it through, and so will you.

The freedom that comes with contacts—the peripheral vision, the ability to wear any sunglasses, the lack of fog when you drink coffee—makes those initial struggles worthwhile. Plus, you'll develop a new superpower: the ability to touch your eye without flinching. It's not the most impressive party trick, but it comes in handy more often than you'd think.

Be patient with yourself. Celebrate small victories. And remember, worst case scenario, you can always wear your glasses for another day. Your eyes will be there tomorrow, ready for another attempt. And one day, sooner than you think, you'll put your contacts in without even thinking about it, and wonder why it ever seemed so hard.

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.

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

Ruben, Montague, and Michel Guillon, editors. Contact Lens Practice. Chapman & Hall Medical, 1994.