The Moment the Behavior Lets Us Go : The Completion of Regulation

When we think of addiction, what usually comes to mind are mechanisms that society has long agreed to label as harmful. Substance abuse, gambling, uncontrollable behaviors. Yet more often than not, what truly matters is not whether a behavior is openly destructive, but whether it continues to exist as a habit even in moments when it doesn't appear to be causing harm. Because once something becomes an invisible filter that every decision in our life has to pass through, the issue no longer belongs to the behavior itself. It turns into a confrontation with our own capacity for dependency. What we often call our only escape is usually the exact place where dependency quietly begins, simply because the body and the mind can't find the same sense of relief or the same temporary feeling of safety anywhere else.

This is perhaps the deepest part of the subject, and also the one most often overlooked. Addiction is not limited to substances, objects, or isolated actions. Have you ever found yourself unable to let go of someone even though they hurt you. A relationship you knew was damaging, yet distancing yourself felt even more threatening. I often notice how some people develop dependency within their relationships and then try to explain it through concepts like love, loyalty, or attachment. But the mechanism is far simpler than we tend to assume. Sometimes taking just one step back and naming what is actually happening is enough to make the cycle visible.

That visibility doesn't arrive instantly. It requires effort, reflection, and time. And it is precisely within this process that one of the greatest kindnesses we can offer our brain and our body begins. Working with our nervous system rather than against it. The first sign that a regulation tool we unknowingly relied on is starting to change is often hidden in a single sentence. Yes, I am someone with a high capacity for attachment. The freedom the soul senses begins to take shape right there. Because this awareness marks the first moment in which we attempt to live a state that our body and soul had previously been unable to tolerate, without suppressing it and without covering it up. And this is not easy. Letting go of a system that has kept you standing until now and saying I am starting again requires real strength. But once you catch the loose end of that strength, pulling yourself back toward yourself reveals something essential. Everything you once depended on was never holding you as firmly as you believed. From that moment on, you slowly stop becoming a prisoner to every feeling and every urge.

The emotional fluctuations that appear during this phase, the constant questioning of whether you are moving in the right direction, the moments when you feel broken or beyond repair, these are not signs of failure. They are signs of the weight of the path itself. And the person who manages to move through these states without returning to the old ground of dependency begins to sense quietly that the real reward is always hidden at the very end of the journey. That reward rarely shows itself immediately. Sometimes it is hard to even believe it exists. Yet the idea that something you once believed would never come might one day arrive and gently honor your heart becomes the most silent and most powerful support along the way.

As awareness deepens, learning to love oneself often goes hand in hand with noticing the injustices one has committed against oneself. This realization often brings anger. Emotions that feel difficult to contain. An internal sense of unfairness slowly rising to the surface. Staying present in this phase and allowing anger to exist while knowing it is temporary introduces an entirely new level of consciousness. Of course, this process doesn't always unfold as smoothly as it sounds. Still, being able to remain with oneself despite the anger and to protect the sense of moral integrity we were taught becomes the second major gift of this path.

At the next stage, as we begin to understand what that anger was pointing toward and recognize which inner absence it was attempting to compensate for, anger gradually gives way to an inability to forgive. This state is often described as an unfinished threat response. Because even after naming so many things and moving forward, the person still wants the unseen reward at the end of the road to finally arrive. Even if the mind knows that certain events belong to the past, the body continues to live them as if they are happening now. Hope has begun to emerge, yet the cycle remains incomplete. The nervous system can't be convinced that the event has truly ended, and therefore stress and anxiety responses don't shut down.

At this point, the body insists quietly but persistently. I need something that will take me out of this weight, even if only for a moment. Because the body wants to maintain the dopamine loop it has grown accustomed to. This is where false solutions and false rewards appear. A brief surge of dopamine. Emotional numbing. This is perhaps the most challenging part of the entire journey. Not because it offers pleasure, but because it exists to divert attention and weaken belief in the process itself. It is a test. Questioning whether one still has the strength to continue and whether the lessons from earlier stages were truly integrated. What feels frightening here is actually the key that allows us, in future encounters with the same patterns, to smile and walk past them instead of falling back into them.

There is one more crucial point here. Rumination. Repeatedly thinking, dissecting what happened, endlessly asking why did this happen or where did I go wrong is also a form of addiction. Instead of forgiving, the person becomes attached to understanding. Instead of letting go, they continue to seek control. The mind is used as a tool to regulate the body. And this loop, fueled by a mixture of dopamine and cortisol, pulls the person back into dependency once again.

When all these cycles are named and understood, when forgiveness finally enters the process, addiction doesn't disappear. It weakens. And eventually, it becomes unnecessary. The nervous system returns to the order it was meant to operate in. Safety is restored. The body no longer searches for regulation outside itself. It begins to find resolution within what it has already understood. This is one of the calmest yet most grounded moments of the journey. Feet finally touch the ground. The pursuit of dopamine is replaced by a fundamental sense of safety and quiet. This is not the moment when the person lets go of the behavior. It is the moment when the behavior lets go of the person.

In truth, everything we are unable to forgive remains a weight carried in the body, even when it no longer appears in our thoughts. Behavioral addictions are simply attempts to set those weights down, if only for a moment. And at the end of this exploration, the person may not feel repaired, but arrives at a place where body and soul finally meet in the same space. These words were written for anyone trying to understand their own patterns, as a reminder not to lose faith in the possibility of living this life from its most grounded place, even in moments when the light at the end of the path can't yet be seen.