You block him. Then you unblock him. Delete his number. Find it again in an old screenshot. One week you feel fine — actually fine. Then he texts “hey,” and you’re right back at square one.
I did this for three years. Three years of “I’m done this time”—and then caving the second his name showed up on my screen. I wasn’t stupid. I was hooked. Not on love. On relief. That drop in my chest when he finally replied, like I could breathe again.
If you’re stuck in this loop right now, you’re not crazy. Loops don’t care about willpower. That’s the whole problem.
The Panic at Midnight and Adding Extra Clicks
One night I deleted his number at 8 p.m. By midnight I was on the floor, sobbing, digging through old emails trying to find it. Clearly, that strategy wasn’t working.
So I stopped trying to make it impossible. I just made it annoying.
I put his number back—but under his full formal name, no nickname. Buried the chat in my archives, deleted the shortcut, hid the thread. I didn’t block him. Blocking felt like a dare my own brain would take. I just wanted friction. A few extra clicks. Enough time to breathe before I could do something stupid.
A few weeks later he texted again. My fingers hovered, unsure what to do. I had no plan, so I set a timer for three minutes. Sat on my bed and said out loud: “I want to text him so bad. My hands are shaking. Just sit here.”
I sat there. Miserable. Every second was bad. But three minutes later I was still me, and the urge had gone quiet enough to put the phone down and walk away.
Facing the Real Timeline
For years I kept telling myself he was the only one who really got me. That maybe this time was different. I knew it wasn’t true. And I still wanted the text to come through.
A counselor told me to stop thinking about his potential and just write down what actually happened. No feelings, just facts.
- He disappeared for three weeks in October.
- He called four times at 2 a.m. when he knew I was trying to move on.
- He left again before Thanksgiving without saying anything.
Written out like that, it stopped looking like a love story. It looked like a spreadsheet — a messy one. I started carrying that piece of paper in my purse.
I also kept a cold bottle of water on my nightstand. When the midnight panic hit, I’d pour some on my wrists or splash my face. It felt ridiculous. It didn’t feel as good as a text from him would have. But it slowed my heart down enough to call a friend or just go outside without my phone. I was just trying to get through the night without ruining my progress.
How to Break the Loop Yourself
You don’t need a big fight or some final terrible thing to decide you’re done. You can just quietly start messing with the pattern. No announcement needed.
These techniques mirror how addiction specialists describe habit loops: adding friction, pausing before action, and grounding in facts reduces impulsive responses (Brewer, 2017; NIDA, 2021; Linehan, 2014).
Here’s what worked for me — broken down into steps you can try tonight.
Step 1: Add friction
Don’t try to be strong. Just make it harder to reach out.
Archive the chat, rename the contact to something formal, delete shortcuts.
The goal: a few extra clicks. Enough time to breathe before you act.
Step 2: Wait out the spike
When your phone lights up, wait three minutes before touching it.
Sit, notice the urge, let it peak and subside.
You’re not fighting it — you’re just waiting.
Step 3: Write down the facts
List exactly what happened. Not what they said they’d do. What they did.
Read the list at midnight when you want to reply.
It’s not a love story. It’s evidence.
Step 4: Use your body to calm down
Cold water on your wrists or face slows your heart rate.
It feels ridiculous. That’s fine.
It gives your nervous system a cue to settle.
Moving Past the Habit
I don’t think about him much now. Not because I got stronger, but because I kept interrupting the habit. Every time I sat through the three minutes, or read that stupid list, or poured ice water on my wrists — it got a little weaker.
It took a long time. Most of it was just boring and lonely. But it worked. And honestly, some small dumb part of me still misses it sometimes. I know. But I don’t do anything about it anymore.
One Last Thing
Next time your phone goes off and that panic hits — just wait. That’s it. Wait out the wave.
Pause. Breathe. Check your list. Wait three minutes. Repeat. Each small pause weakens the habit, one step at a time.
That’s the whole thing, actually.
References
Brewer, J. (2017). The Craving Mind: From Cigarettes to Smartphones to Love—Why We Get Hooked and How We Can Break Bad Habits. Yale University Press.
Linehan, M. (2014). DBT Skills Training Manual. Guilford Press.
National Institute on Drug Abuse. (2021). “Understanding Drug Use and Addiction.”