Limerence isn’t love.

It’s obsession that plays out in your body, your thoughts, and your sense of control. What makes it confusing is how convincing it feels. The emotional weight. The urgency. The way it pushes everything else to the background. But limerence is a pattern. It shows up when certain conditions are in place: brain chemistry, personal history, the other person’s behavior, and your current life circumstances.

It starts in the brain.
When someone gives you a positive signal, like attention or affection, your brain responds. Dopamine is released, and that interaction gets stored as rewarding. If the person isn’t consistent, the signal becomes more intense. The unpredictability pulls you in. Your brain links this person to pleasure, even if the connection is unstable. That’s what creates the mental loop.

Then there’s your personal history.
Limerence doesn’t attach itself to just anyone. The person usually matches something you’ve known before. If affection used to come in fragments, or if you had to work to be seen, that early pattern becomes your reference point. You don’t choose it. You respond to it. What feels familiar often feels magnetic, even when it isn’t healthy.

The other person’s behaviour matters.
People who are clear tend to settle the nervous system. Limerence doesn’t usually survive honesty. It builds when the other person gives mixed messages. Sometimes engaged, sometimes distant. You start watching for clues, hoping for resolution. That uncertainty becomes the center of your focus.

If someone tells you they’re not available, then continues to check in or share emotionally, the message stays mixed. You end up carrying the weight of both presence and absence. That imbalance keeps you hooked.

Your timing plays a role too.
Limerence often surfaces during times of transition or emotional depletion. Breakups. Loneliness. Burnout. Even boredom. These moments make us more vulnerable to intense feelings. The distraction can feel like relief. The fixation creates a sense of purpose. But most of the time, it pulls you away from what you actually need.

Breaking the cycle starts with calling it what it is.
Limerence doesn’t mean you’re needy or weak. It means something in your wiring and environment created the conditions for it. You can’t control the chemistry, but you can control how much room it takes up in your life. When you put your energy toward building structure, clarity, and real connection, the noise starts to fade.

Am I in Love, or Just in a Limerence Loop?

(A reflective self-check in plain language)

Do I feel like I just met my soulmate… after three texts and a Spotify link?
If yes: Might be limerence. Real love doesn’t come with a soundtrack and dopamine rush before dinner.

Do I replay every message like it’s a film script?
If I’m analyzing punctuation like it holds secret meaning, I might be scripting my fantasy more than living a connection.

Do I feel calm when I hear from them, or does my nervous system do parkour?
Grounded love feels like peace. Limerence feels like a caffeine overdose with emotional whiplash.

Do I adjust my schedule, priorities, and hydration around their availability?
If I’m skipping meals to be emotionally “on call,” I need a snack and a reality check.

Do I know what they actually value, or just what I hope they do?
Real love grows from shared values. Limerence builds castles in the air (with no plumbing).

When they go silent, do I spiral, strategize, or stalk their story views?
Love trusts. Limerence surveils.

Do I feel like I can be my full, unfiltered self… or do I perform my “chill, evolved” persona?
Authenticity is a green flag. Curated perfection is a red one wrapped in anxiety.

Am I asking the universe for signs?
If I’m seeing their name in license plates or decoding songs on shuffle, I may be projecting, not connecting.

Would I still want them if they were 20 minutes late, sweaty from the gym, and not quoting Rumi?
Love holds up in daylight. Limerence needs soft lighting and mystery.

When I think about the future, does it include a slow build with hard conversations… or a montage of romantic highs?
Love is the slow burn. Limerence is the trailer.

Bottom line:
If I feel seen, safe, steady — that’s love.
If I feel addicted, anxious, and constantly guessing — that’s probably limerence dressed up like love.

It’s not about cutting people off to prove something. It’s about returning to yourself.