Part 2: How to Repair the Pursue–Withdraw Cycle
In Part 1 (Why Your Partner Shuts Down: The Freeze Response), we explored why your partner shuts down, how their nervous system moves into a freeze response when things feel too big or too unsafe.
But there's another nervous system in this story. Yours.
When your partner withdraws, something happens in your body too. And that's where the real cycle begins.
Your Nervous System's Response: The Other Side of the Dance
When your partner goes quiet, your nervous system doesn't hear: "They need space to regulate."
It hears: "You're losing them. You need to fix this. Now."
This is the pursue response, and it's just as nervous-system-driven as your partner's withdrawal.
Maybe you learned early that love was unpredictable. When your caregivers were emotionally available sometimes and withdrawn other times, you became hypervigilant to the shifts. You learned that the way to stay safe was to stay close, to monitor, to manage the relationship.
Or maybe you're simply wired to seek connection as your primary way of regulating. When you feel disconnected, your nervous system spikes into anxiety. Reaching toward your partner feels like the only way to calm that spike.
Or maybe something else taught you that disconnection means abandonment. That pulling away is the beginning of the end. That you need to stop it before it's too late.
Whatever your history, when your partner withdraws, your nervous system recognises a threat pattern: This feels like the beginning of loss. I need to stop it.
And here's the crucial part: your nervous system response is just as valid as theirs.
Your pursuit isn't neediness. Your panic isn't overreacting. Your longing for connection is how your body is wired, and it makes perfect sense given what you've survived.
But here's the problem: the more you reach, the more they retreat. Your reaching, even though it comes from love, can feel like pressure. Like demands. Like another thing their already-overwhelmed nervous system has to manage.
So they go further inward. You pursue harder.
Both of you end up feeling abandoned, even though you're in the same room.
This is the pursue-withdraw cycle, and it's one of the most painful dynamics in relationships because both people are doing exactly what their nervous system thinks it needs to do to survive—and it's having the opposite effect.
For many people, this urgency during disconnection is rooted in why healthy love can feel uncomfortable after trauma, and why the nervous system often mistakes tension for connection.
How the Cycle Gets Locked In
The cycle follows a predictable pattern, even though it feels chaotic in the moment:
The withdrawal. Something happens—a conflict, a difficult conversation, or sometimes nothing obvious at all. Your partner's nervous system responds by going quiet. They pull inward to regulate.
The interpretation. Your nervous system reads this silence as danger. Not "they need space" but "I'm losing them." Your body doesn't distinguish between temporary disconnection and permanent abandonment.
The pursuit. You reach for them: asking questions, over-explaining, trying to get any response. It comes from love, but to their overwhelmed system, it registers as more pressure.
The deeper retreat. They pull back further, confirming your fear and their own: the connection feels too overwhelming. Distance feels safer.
When both partners feel abandoned. The withdrawing partner feels trapped and suffocated. The pursuing partner feels desperate and unseen. You're both in pain, experiencing the other as its cause.
When one or both partners finally shut down. There's nothing left to say. The cycle burns itself out. But neither of you feels resolved—just exhausted and wondering if you can survive many more rounds like this.
Rebuilding safety often begins in the ordinary moments.
What Both Partners Feel (And Need to Know)
The Pursuing Partner Often Feels:
Frantic, anxious, desperate for reconnection. Rejected and unseen. Like they're doing something wrong without knowing what. Ashamed of needing reassurance. Terrified this disconnection is permanent. Exhausted from trying.
And needs to know: Your need for connection is valid. Your fear makes sense. You're not broken for having it. Your reaching is an act of love, even when it backfires.
For many survivors, this panic during distance links back to why calm can feel uncomfortable, especially when chaos once felt like connection.
The Withdrawing Partner Often Feels:
Overwhelmed and trapped. Guilty for causing pain. Shame about their limitations. Pressure that makes them want to disappear more. Fear they'll never do relationships "right." Helpless to fix any of it.
And needs to know: Your need for space is valid. Your overwhelm is real. Your shutdown is self-protection, not rejection. Your silence isn't cruelty, it's survival.
Breaking the Cycle: First, Name It
The first step toward breaking this cycle is the smallest one, and it's also the most powerful: name what's happening.
When you notice the cycle starting—when you feel yourself reaching and they're pulling away, or vice versa—try naming it out loud:
"I think we're both getting flooded right now."
"I notice you're going quiet and I'm reaching, and we're both feeling alone."
"This is our pattern showing up again, isn't it?"
"I can feel my nervous system spiking. I think yours is too."
This single act, naming the dynamic without blame, can interrupt the automatic response. Suddenly, you're not enemies. You're two people recognising the same problem.
You shift from:
"You're rejecting me" → "Our nervous systems are in conflict"
"I'm chasing you" → "We're both trying to survive"
"Me vs. You" → "Us vs. The Pattern"
Timing and tone matter. This isn't something to announce when you're at peak activation. Wait until you notice the pattern starting but before full overwhelm sets in. Use a soft, steady voice—not accusatory, not desperate. Curiosity, not criticism.
That shift in perspective creates a tiny bit of space. And in that space, choice becomes possible.
The Second Step: Regulation Before Conversation
Here's the truth most relationship advice misses: you cannot think your way out of a nervous system response.
When someone is in shutdown or panic, their prefrontal cortex (the thinking brain) is offline. Logic won't reach them. Words won't reach them. Explanations won't reach them.
What might reach them is safety.
For the Pursuing Partner, Safety Looks Like:
Pausing the pursuit
Slowing your breathing
Lowering your voice
Giving space instead of pressure
Grounding yourself (feet on the floor, hands on your lap)
Reminding yourself: "This disconnection is temporary. We come back from this."
Not chasing. Not demanding. Just steadiness.
Your calm becomes an invitation for their nervous system to calm too. Regulation is contagious. When one person settles, the other often follows.
Sometimes this means saying: "I can see we're both overwhelmed. I'm going to take a breath. You do what you need to do."
Or: "I'm going to sit here quietly. You don't have to say anything. I'm not going anywhere."
For the Withdrawing Partner, Safety Looks Like:
Acknowledging that you're overwhelmed
Being honest about what you need ("I need to step back for a bit")
Making a commitment to return ("I will come back to you")
Taking that break without using it as punishment
Checking in when you've regulated ("I'm ready to talk now")
Not disappearing forever. Not using silence as a weapon. Just being honest: "I can't do this right now, but I want to."
Sometimes this means saying: "I'm going to take a short break to settle my nervous system. I'm not running from you. I'm trying to get back to you."
The Third Step: Reconnection With Gentleness
Once both nervous systems have had time to settle, the real work begins. But it looks different than most people expect.
The goal isn't to solve everything or figure out who was right. The goal is simply to reconnect.
What Reconnection Actually Looks Like:
The invitation might sound like:
"When you're ready, I'd like to understand what felt hard for you."
"I want to hear what you experienced during that."
"Can we come back to each other?"
"I missed you while we were apart."
Notice what's missing: no pressure, no stakes, no demand for perfect explanations. You're not trying to convince them of anything. You're just saying: "I want to be close to you again."
Reconnection might actually look like:
A conversation where you both share what you felt (not what the other person did—what each of you felt)
A hug or quiet physical reassurance
Sitting together in silence, rebuilding the sense that you're in this together
Acknowledging it was hard and you both survived it
A small moment of laughter or tenderness
The key understanding: Reconnection doesn't need to be profound. It just needs to happen. Even a quiet moment of sitting together can be enough to help both nervous systems settle and remember: we're still here. We're still us.
What Repair Actually Teaches Your Nervous Systems
Every time you move through the cycle and reconnect, something shifts in your nervous systems.
Your body begins to learn: "Disconnection isn't the end. We come back from this."
Not on an intellectual level—on a felt level. Your nervous system actually experiences the truth that we fell apart, and we came back together.
Over time, with repeated experiences of successful repair:
The pursuing partner's anxiety settles (the feared abandonment doesn't happen)
The withdrawing partner's shame lessens (reconnection is still possible)
Both of you develop confidence that you can move through conflict without losing each other
The cycles still happen, but they become shorter and less intense
You build what's called your window of tolerance, the capacity to hold difficult emotions while staying connected
Each time you reconnect, you're expanding that window, giving your nervous system more capacity to stay present even during big feelings.
This learning doesn't happen from one conversation. It happens from repeatedly moving through the cycle and discovering: we're still here. We still choose each other. We can come back.
Building New Patterns (With Support)
Most couples can begin to interrupt this cycle on their own by naming it and understanding it. But to truly rewire the pattern, both of you often need support.
A trauma-informed counsellor can help you:
Develop shared language for what's happening in the moment. Instead of just going silent or pursuing, you might say: "I'm going into shutdown" or "My nervous system is spiking right now." This shifts it from mystery to information.
Create time-outs that work. Not time-outs where one person punishes the other with silence. Time-outs where both partners agree: "We're both flooded. Let's step back for one hour and then reconnect." With a clear commitment to actually reconnect.
Understand your attachment history. Where did your pursuit come from? Where did their withdrawal? These patterns usually make sense when you look at the nervous system's history. And when they make sense, they lose some of their power to control you.
Practice presence and validation. Learning to stay present with your partner's big feelings (even if they're withdrawing or pursuing) without needing to fix, change, or control them.
Build capacity together. Slowly expanding your window of tolerance so you can hold bigger emotions, bigger conflicts, and bigger intimacy without either of you disappearing.
When to Reach Out for Professional Support
You don't have to figure this out alone. Consider reaching out to a counsellor if:
This cycle repeats frequently and leaves both of you feeling unseen
You find yourselves unable to reconnect without external help
The withdrawing partner is experiencing persistent shame or feeling fundamentally "broken"
The pursuing partner is experiencing persistent anxiety or panic
Either of you has considered leaving because you don't know how to break the pattern
You need help understanding why you respond this way (your attachment history)
You want to build new patterns before resentment settles in permanently
A trauma-informed therapist can help you both understand what your nervous system is doing and create actual strategies that work for your particular wiring, not generic relationship advice.
A Note on Nervous System Wiring
Some people's nervous systems are naturally more prone to withdrawal. They might have been born with sensitive nervous systems, or they might have learned early that the world was chaotic and the safest place was inside themselves. This isn't a flaw. It's part of how they're wired.
Similarly, some people have nervous systems that seek connection as their primary way of staying regulated. They feel safer close and anxious apart. This isn't neediness. It's neurobiology.
The good news is that nervous systems can learn new patterns. They don't change overnight, but they do change. And the change comes through repeated experiences of safety, repair, and reconnection.
The Invitation
If you recognise yourself in this cycle—whether you're the one who withdraws or the one who reaches, please know this:
Your nervous system isn't broken. It's protecting you in the only way it learned.
Healing doesn't require either of you to change who you are. It requires both of you learning that:
Disconnection is temporary
Repair is possible
And your nervous systems can learn to trust each other again
This takes patience, gentleness, and often support. But what it creates is profound: a relationship where silence doesn't mean the end, where reaching isn't desperation, and where coming back to each other feels like home.
If You'd Like Help Breaking This Cycle
At Safe Space Counselling Services, I help couples understand their nervous system patterns and build healthier ways of reconnecting after conflict.
Your nervous systems has been protecting you. Now they can learn to trust.
📧 kat@safespacecounsellingservices.com.au
📞 0452 285 526
Continue Learning: Go Back to Part 1
If you haven’t yet read the first part of this series, you may find it helpful to explore the freeze response more deeply:
Part 1: Why Your Partner Shuts Down — Understanding the Freeze Response
Together, Part 1 and Part 2 give you a complete picture of how both partners’ nervous systems shape the pursue–withdraw cycle, and how healing becomes possible when both responses are understood with compassion.