Why You Keep Chasing (or Shutting Down): The Real Cause of the Pursue–Withdraw Cycle
Rachel Orleck 
Caught in the pursue–withdraw cycle? Learn why it happens, how to name it, and how to shift before it spirals.
You’re not crazy, clingy, or cold. You're in a cycle that your nervous system doesn’t know how to stop—yet.
Listen or read below.
The fight isn’t always loud
It starts small—a sigh, a delayed reply, a shift in tone.
You ask what’s wrong. They say nothing. You press again. They retreat. You feel like you're either chasing them down… or hiding just to avoid setting them off.
It’s exhausting. And it always ends the same way: silence, shutdown, or sleeping in opposite corners of the house, stewing.
If you've ever felt like you're either too much or not enough, like you're stuck in a pattern that makes no sense but hurts every time—it’s not you. It’s your nervous system running the show.
What this is really about
This cycle isn’t about one partner being “too emotional” or the other being “too avoidant.”
It’s not a personality flaw. It’s a protection strategy.
When closeness feels risky, your nervous system does what it knows best: it fights, flees, freezes, or fawns. And unless you can recognize that as a body-based instinct, not a relationship problem, you’ll keep blaming each other instead of naming the pattern.
How the cycle gets started
My clients tell me this all the time:
“We love each other—but we keep missing each other.”
It doesn’t usually start with a major betrayal. Most often? It begins with something small. A weird pause. A shift in tone. A missed bid for connection.
One of you picks up on the change immediately. You feel the anxiety rise. Your thoughts spiral. You send another text. Ask again. Try harder.
To you, it’s connection.
To them, it feels like pressure.
So they pull away. Not because they don’t care—but because they’re overwhelmed. They shut down. Go quiet. Leave the room. Ghost emotionally.
And just like that—your roles lock in.
The Pursue–Withdraw Loop
One of you ramps up to reconnect.
The other pulls back to regulate.
But the more one protests, the more the other retreats.
And the more one retreats, the more the other panics.
You’re not wrong for wanting closeness.
You’re not wrong for needing space.
But without awareness, those instincts clash.
It stops feeling like a relationship and starts feeling like a battlefield—one of you charging in with a white flag, the other ducking for cover.
And the worst part? You both think the other person is the problem.
The deeper reason it feels so impossible
Here’s what’s actually happening:
Your nervous system doesn’t wait for logic. It scans for safety. Constantly. When it detects a threat—like rejection, criticism, or even just emotional tension—it hits the emergency button.
If you’re the pursuer, that alarm says: Fix this fast. Get close now.
If you’re the withdrawer, the alarm says: This is too much. Get out.
Same fear, different strategies.
The pursuer isn’t trying to be overwhelming. They’re terrified.
The withdrawer isn’t trying to be cruel. They’re flooded.
Your body doesn’t know the difference between an argument and a lion chase. It just knows something feels off. And unless you can name what’s happening, you’ll keep reenacting the same argument with slightly different words.
Same lava. Different volcanoes.
The moment things can start to shift
A client told me about a recent fight. It started like all the others—but this time, she noticed it. Her heart raced. Her chest tightened. Her thumbs itched to text six more times. And instead of going full protest mode, she paused.
“I think we’re slipping into that pattern again,” she said.
Her partner didn’t respond perfectly. But he didn’t leave the room either.
He said, “I know. I just need a minute.”
That was enough.
No dramatic repair. No magical script. Just one moment of naming the pattern instead of becoming it.
Try this instead
You don’t need to be calm all the time. You just need a move that works even when your brain has left the building.
Here are a few nervous-system-friendly options:
1. Name the pattern, not the person.
“I think we’re doing that thing again.”
2. Interrupt the spiral with sensation.
Splash cold water. Touch your feet to the floor. Put down your phone. Anything that brings you back to your body.
3. Anchor before you answer.
Take five minutes—even silently—before continuing the conversation.
4. Remember: you don’t need perfect words.
Just enough signal to say: I see what’s happening, and I’m not letting it run the show.
Final reflection
If you’ve felt stuck in this dynamic, hear this:
It’s not because you’re broken. It’s not because your partner doesn’t care.
It’s because your nervous systems are protecting you the only way they know how.
But survival mode isn’t where intimacy lives.
Naming the pattern won’t fix everything overnight—but it does open the door. And sometimes, that’s the moment that rewires everything.
This is the kind of shift we work on inside The Attachment Revolution Membership. One honest sentence at a time. One nervous system at a time. One cycle interrupted on purpose.
