The psychology of obsession isn’t some textbook thing for me anymore—it literally hijacked my 2024. Like, full-on hostage situation. I’m sitting here in my stupidly overpriced Brooklyn apartment right now, December cold sneaking through the window crack, half a cold pizza on the coffee table, writing this because I still flinch when my phone buzzes. That’s how real the psychology of obsession got.
How the Psychology of Obsession Sneaks Up (My Dumb Origin Story)
It started normal. Met this guy—let’s call him J—at a Williamsburg bar where the cocktails cost more than my metrocard. He had that quiet, intense thing going on, wore the same black hoodie every time, smelled like cedar and cigarettes. Within two weeks I was rewriting my entire schedule around the chance of “accidentally” running into him. Classic psychology of obsession behavior, but I thought I was just ~in love~.
- Checking his Spotify “recently played” at 2 a.m. became my bedtime story
- Screenshotting his Instagram stories before they disappeared (yeah I had a folder)
- Walking three extra blocks in the rain just to pass his building “on the way home”
Looking back? Mortifying. At the time? Felt like oxygen.
The Moment I Realized My Love Turned Unhealthy AF
October hit and he started pulling away—normal human stuff, whatever. But the psychology of obsession in my brain went full scorched-earth. I’d refresh his “last seen” on WhatsApp so often the app started crashing. One night I actually sat in my car outside his place until 4 a.m. eating cold fries, crying to Lana Del Rey, waiting for his light to turn on. That was the “oh shit” moment. Like seriously, who AM I right now?
What Actually Helped Me Break the Obsessive Love Cycle (The Ugly Parts)
Therapy obviously, but also the less cute stuff nobody posts about:
- Deleted Instagram for 47 days (still counting)
- Gave my best friend my phone location “just in case” I decided to do something stupid again
- Started running at 5 a.m. because physical exhaustion > mental exhaustion
- Wrote him a 12-page letter I never sent then burned it in my bathtub like a psycho (10/10 do recommend)
The psychology of obsession hates evidence. So I started keeping a note called “Reality Check” with screenshots of his actual lukewarm texts. Brutal but effective.
Red Flags I Ignored (Because Love, Duh)
- He’d go 16 hours without replying then send a single fire emoji
- Every plan was “maybe, I’ll let you know”
- I was curating my personality like a LinkedIn profile to keep him interested
Any of this sound familiar? Because the psychology of obsession loves making you think you’re the exception.
[Insert Placeholder: Image of a phone screen filled with one-sided text bubbles, all gray on the right, lit by a single desk lamp. The background shows a reflection of someone staring way too close to the screen, eyes red from crying. Style: harsh overhead lighting, slightly distorted like looking through wet glass.]
Anyway. I’m not fixed. Still have days where the psychology of obsession whispers “what if you just texted him happy birthday six months late?” But I don’t. Progress, not perfection, right?
If you’re stuck in your own version of unhealthy love—been there, cried in that Target parking lot, ate the feelings. You’re not crazy, you’re just human and sometimes our brains are absolute traitors.
Talk to someone. Block the accounts. Burn the letter. Eat the cold pizza. You’ll get through it.
(And if you want to share your own cringey obsessive love stories in the comments… I’m ready to feel less alone.) 💀
P.S. If you need actual professional resources:
- Psychology Today therapist finder
- LoveIsRespect.org (yes even for non-teen situations)
