The Patterns
Three feedback loops defined this relationship. Each one made sense from the inside, caused real harm over time, and could have been interrupted — but wasn't.
In relationship systems theory, a "loop" is a repeating cycle where each person's protective response triggers the other person's alarm, which triggers more protection, which triggers more alarm. The loops below are documented across 5.5 years of data. If you've lived through something similar, you'll recognize them. If you haven't, they'll help you understand how two loving people can keep hurting each other without meaning to.
The Stress–Shutdown–Pursuit Cycle
This was the central loop — present in nearly every difficult episode. It's a well-documented pattern in Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), sometimes called the "protest polka" or the pursuer-withdrawer dynamic. The data here captures it with unusual precision: A's 183 avoidant markers and S's 290 pursuit instances trace the exact contours of this cycle across years.
What makes this particular version painful is that both people also had the opposite capacity. A could pursue (91 anxious markers). S could withdraw (86 avoidant markers). They weren't locked into single roles — they oscillated depending on the trigger. But their dominant stress responses were directly opposed, and those dominated during the hardest moments.
How it played out
"I'm drowning and I need a minute to breathe. Every question feels like another thing I have to manage. I know he's hurting but I literally cannot hold one more thing right now. And then when I finally break, I hate myself for it — so I apologize and apologize and take all the blame, because at least if it's my fault I can theoretically fix it."
Her own words captured it: "sorry I stress so much and freak out... it turns me into a 'shut down' mode way too often... I'm just not used to opening up truly to someone and shutting down like I do is how I've made it so far."
"Something is wrong and she won't tell me what. I'm scared. I love her and I need to understand what's happening so I can help. Her silence feels like I'm losing her. When I express my hurt, I'm just being honest — but she shuts down even more. And then she comes back with this flood of apology and I'm relieved but also confused — what just happened?"
His 78 abandonment-fear instances tell the same story from the data side. When A went quiet, his nervous system registered it as threat.
Why it persisted: Repair restored emotional closeness that both people genuinely needed. But the repair was addressing the rupture, not the root: A's shielding, S's pursuit intensity, and the fact that neither person changed their early-stage behavior. A didn't learn to signal at a 6/10. S didn't learn to offer space before seeking clarity. So the loop restarted from the same conditions every time.
What would have broken it: A naming her overwhelm early ("I'm at a 6/10 and I need an hour, but I'm not leaving"). S offering space before pursuing clarity ("I can see you need distance. I'm here when you're ready — take the time you need"). A structured timeout protocol they both agreed to in advance.
The Intimacy and Identity Disconnect
This was the quietest loop and the one that carried the most weight. For A, certain kinds of intimate attention weren't preferences — they were tied directly to her sense of being seen and affirmed as a woman. The systems analysis calls this the "load-bearing axis of pain": an erotic/identity attunement mismatch where A experienced specific initiative and desire language as identity-seeing and emotional safety, and S experienced those same moments as high-stakes performance where failure was always possible.
The January 2021 conversation made this explicit on both sides — A naming the need, S naming the constraint — and revealed the fundamental paradox at the center of this loop.
How it played out
"If I have to ask every time, it doesn't count. I need to feel wanted — not accommodated. When I come downstairs in lingerie and nothing happens, the message I get is: my femininity is not something that moves you. My womanhood is tolerated, not desired."
From the analysis: this wasn't a "preference dispute" — it was identity-level pain. A's 131 abandonment instances and her gender-affirming needs were deeply intertwined.
"I want to make her feel beautiful. That's what I feel when I want her — I want to caress her and tell her she's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. But that's not what she needs, and every time I get it wrong I feel more afraid to try. When she says 'just do it,' I don't know what 'it' is. And when I ask, she says asking ruins it."
From the analysis: S's natural expression of desire was genuine, not dismissive. His 96 self-blame instances included shame about not being able to meet A's intimate needs.
Why it persisted: The core paradox — A needed to be pursued without asking; S needed explicit direction to succeed — was structural, not characterological. Neither person was wrong. But without a co-created system (structured experimentation, pre-agreed scripts, possibly professional guidance from a sex therapist), the mismatch became a shame engine for both.
What would have broken it: Treating the mismatch as a design problem rather than a character flaw. An "intimacy menu" with different modes (comfort/tenderness, gender-affirming scripts, experimentation). Pre-agreed language and rituals so S could initiate A's needs without mind-reading and A could feel pursued without having to direct.
The Caretaking Imbalance
The numbers tell this story clearly: A produced 708 acts of service to S's 481 — a 47% gap. But the full picture is bigger than the gap. A functioned as the emotional first-responder, the logistics manager, and the relationship maintenance system. When S was struggling, A mobilized. When A was struggling, she pushed through alone — because asking for help felt like being a burden, and caretaking was how she proved her love was real.
How it played out
"I'm holding everything and I'm drowning. But if I ask for help, I'll be a burden. If I show how tired I am, I'll be the difficult one. And honestly, part of me thinks if he really loved me he'd notice without me having to say it. So I just keep going until I can't."
The analysis identifies this as A's core wound activating: "My needs make me unlovable." Asking for help felt like confirming that fear.
"I don't know what she needs me to do because she doesn't tell me. Everything seemed fine until suddenly it wasn't. I tell her I love her, I try to be supportive, I show up. What am I missing?"
The answer, from the data: he was giving words when she needed acts. His 481 service instances weren't low in absolute terms — but relative to the load A was carrying, they weren't enough. And she never made the gap explicit.
Why it persisted: A believed asking for help equaled being burdensome — rooted in deep attachment fears about self-worth and neediness. S didn't realize the scope of what A carried because she was skilled at absorbing it. Without A naming the need and S proactively looking for ways to share the load, the imbalance was invisible to the person who could have helped balance it.
What would have broken it: A weekly check-in: "What's on each of our plates this week? How do we divide it?" Explicit delegation instead of silent assumption. S asking "What can I take off your plate?" as a regular practice, not just during crisis. And A learning to let go of control — allowing S to handle things imperfectly without taking them back.
How the loops fed each other
These three loops didn't operate in isolation. The caretaking imbalance (Loop 3) depleted A's reserves, making her more vulnerable to overwhelm and shutdown (Loop 1). The intimacy disconnect (Loop 2) eroded A's sense of being seen as a woman, which intensified her withdrawal when other stressors hit. S's anxiety from Loop 1 made him less able to take sexual risks in Loop 2, which deepened the mismatch. Every loop amplified the others.
This is why the relationship deteriorated gradually rather than collapsing from a single event. The system was accumulating strain faster than the repair attempts — genuine and frequent as they were — could discharge it. Both people kept trying. The trying wasn't the problem. The structure was.
If you're in one of these loops
These patterns are common and they're documented extensively in relationship research. They're not signs that you're broken or that your relationship is hopeless. They are, however, signs that the system needs structural intervention — tools, frameworks, and usually professional support — because willpower and love alone don't break feedback loops.
The research-backed interventions that address these specific patterns include: Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), which is specifically designed for pursuit-withdrawal dynamics and attachment injuries; the Gottman Method, which provides structured communication tools and repair rituals; and for intimacy mismatches specifically, sex therapy that treats the disconnect as a design problem rather than a personal failing.
The single most important thing both people in A and S's relationship could have done was name the loop while it was happening — "This is our cycle. You're withdrawing because you're overwhelmed. I'm pursuing because I'm scared. We're making it worse for each other. What's our protocol?" Having that language, and an agreed-upon protocol, changes everything.
To see these patterns reflected in the week-by-week data — when connection peaked, when strain spiked, which episodes had repair and how fast — visit The Data. For the actual words behind them, see In Their Words. For the injuries and self-protection patterns that deepened the harm, see What Got Bruised. And if you recognize yourself in these loops, If You Recognize This is written for you.