Jenna Dalton

Registered Provisional Psychologist

Listen on: Apple Podcasts · Spotify · YouTube · or wherever you get your podcasts

You remember the beginning.

You couldn’t stop thinking about them. You texted back instantly – every single time. You stayed up until 3 AM talking even though you had work at 7. You planned elaborate dates. You wrote little love notes. You were completely, fully, intoxicatingly present.

And then… something shifted.

You pulled back. Not because you wanted to. Not because you stopped loving them. But the intensity faded. The constant thinking slowed. You went from all-in to somewhere else. And your partner noticed. Of course they noticed.

“What happened?” they asked. And you didn’t have an answer. Because you didn’t know what happened either.

Today, I’m going to tell you exactly what happened. And I promise you, it’s not what you think.

About this episode

The hyperfocus-to-withdrawal cycle might be the single most destructive pattern in neurodivergent relationships – not because the feelings aren’t real, but because nobody understands what’s actually happening. So both people end up writing the wrong story about why things shifted.

The neurodivergent person decides they’re incapable of lasting love. The partner decides they were lied to. The relationship doesn’t recover.

In Episode 3, I unpack the actual neuroscience of what happens – the dopamine, the novelty, the way ADHD focus works (and doesn’t), the autism and AuDHD variants of this same cycle, and why it’s not proof that you’re broken. Then I give you four practical tools, including the bonfire-to-fireplace metaphor.

What you’ll learn

  • Why hyperfocus-to-withdrawal might be the most misunderstood pattern in ND relationships
  • What the cycle looks like from both sides: yours and your partner’s
  • The dopamine science: what’s actually happening in an ND brain at the start of a relationship vs. six months in
  • How this pattern shows up differently in ADHD, autistic, and AuDHD brains
  • Why hyperfocus intensity is not the same as love bombing (and why that distinction matters)
  • Four practical tools that can help

The early relationship was a bonfire. You’re not trying to rebuild the bonfire. You’re tending a fireplace. Smaller flame, but it keeps the house warm all winter.

Resources mentioned

Ready to go deeper?

If this cycle has played out in your relationships and you’re ready to actually understand and work with it instead of against it:

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Episode transcript

This transcript has been lightly edited for readability.

You remember the beginning.

You couldn’t stop thinking about them. You spent hours sending them thoughtful texts. You stayed up until 3 AM talking even though you had work at 8 the next morning. You planned elaborate dates. You wrote little notes. You were completely, fully, intoxicatingly in deep.

Your partner probably thought they’d met the most attentive, romantic, all-in person on the planet. And honestly? You thought that too. You thought, maybe this is it. Maybe I finally found my person.

And then… something shifted.

You pulled back. Not because you wanted to. Not because you stopped loving them. But the intensity faded. The constant thinking slowed. You went from planning surprise dates to forgetting to text back for six hours. You went from all-in to… somewhere else. And your partner noticed. Of course they noticed.

“What happened?” they asked. Or maybe they didn’t ask. Maybe they just got quieter. More distant. Maybe they started testing you – little bids for attention to see if you’d respond the way you used to.

And you didn’t have an answer. Because you didn’t know what happened either. You just knew the feeling was… different. And you couldn’t figure out what was happening.

Today, I’m going to tell you exactly what happened. And I promise you – it’s not what you think. It’s not a character flaw. It’s not proof that you’re broken. It’s not because you aren’t meant to be in relationships. It’s chemistry. Brain chemistry to be precise. And once you understand it, the way you see your relationship history is going to shift.

Intro

This is the Neurodivergent Love Lab. I’m registered provisional psychologist, Jenna Dalton. And this is Episode 3: The Neuroscience Of Why You Fall Hard and Then Pull Away 

The Setup: Why This Pattern Causes So Much Damage

Okay, so I need to tell you something. 

This is such a common pattern in neurodivergent relationships. And it can do some serious damage.

I don’t say that to be dramatic. I say it because I see this pattern show up in my office on a pretty regular basis. 

And the reason it’s so destructive isn’t because the feelings aren’t real. There’s real attraction and like there – maybe even love. It’s because neither person understands what’s happening. And without understanding, both people write the wrong story about what went down.

Here’s what it looks like from both sides. I want you to really picture this, because I’m going to guess you’ve been on at least one of these sides.

The neurodivergent person thinks: “I must be incapable of lasting love. I always do this. I fall hard and then I lose interest. What is wrong with me? Am I just… not built for long-term relationships? Am I one of those people who can only do the shiny new part?”

And here’s the really painful bit – you start collecting receipts against yourself. You go through your entire dating history and you’re like, yep, did it with that person. Did it with that one. Did it with that one too. Three months in and I was already looking for the exit. It becomes this ironclad case that you are fundamentally defective at love.

Meanwhile, the partner is writing their own story. And their story sounds like: “They love-bombed me. The beginning was a performance. They showed me this incredible, attentive, present version of themselves – and it was fake. They reeled me in and now they don’t care anymore.”

And if the partner goes online and starts Googling things like “my partner was intense at first and now they’re distant” – you know what they’re going to find? Articles about narcissism. About love bombing. About manipulation tactics. So now they’re not just hurt, they’re scared. They think they’re in a relationship with someone who was deliberately manipulating them.

Both stories aren’t the truth. Both stories are devastating. And both stories lead to the exact same place: the relationship either ends, or it limps forward with two people who feel deeply misunderstood.

The truth is, this isn’t a commitment problem. It’s a dopamine problem. And once you understand the neuroscience behind it, you have the power to change this pattern.

The Education: What’s Actually Happening in Your Brain

Alright, let’s talk about dopamine. And I promise I’m going to make this make sense without turning it into a biology lecture. We’re not doing textbook dopamine. We’re doing “this is why your relationship feels different now and also why you stayed up until 4 AM organizing your entire kitchen that one time” dopamine.

So. Dopamine. Most people think dopamine is the “happiness chemical.” It’s not. Dopamine is the “I want that” chemical. It’s the chemical of pursuit. Of motivation. Of “ooh, shiny.” It’s the neurochemical that drives you toward things that feel novel, exciting, and rewarding. It’s the reason you can spend four hours researching the perfect espresso machine at 1 AM but can’t make yourself reply to a two-sentence email. Because the espresso machine is novel and interesting and the email is… an email. So meh.

Now here’s the key piece: ADHD brains have a dopamine regulation difference. I’m going to keep this simple because the neuroscience gets complex fast, but the essential thing to know is this: ADHD brains generally have less baseline dopamine available. The brain’s dopamine transporters work differently, which means dopamine gets recycled a bit too efficiently – it gets swept up before it’s had a chance to do its job properly. What this means in everyday terms is that the ADHD brain is chronically under-stimulated. It’s always looking for something to bring dopamine levels up to a more functional baseline.

This is why you crave novelty. This is why routine feels like slow death. This is why you can’t focus on the boring thing but you can hyperfocus on the interesting thing for twelve hours straight without eating. Your brain is hunting for dopamine. Always.

Now. Put that brain in a brand new relationship.

Oh boy. A new relationship is the ultimate dopamine machine. It is a dopamine buffet. An all-you-can-eat neurochemical feast. Everything is novel. Every text is exciting. Every conversation reveals something new about this person. Every date is an adventure. Every kiss is electric.

Your brain is being flooded with dopamine, norepinephrine, phenylethylamine – basically, your brain is throwing itself a cocktail party and every guest is a feel-good chemical. And for the ADHD brain, which has been wandering around in a dopamine desert? This is an oasis. This is relief. This is your brain going, “FINALLY. This. More of this. All of this. Don’t stop.”

And this is where hyperfocus kicks in.

Now, hyperfocus is something that most people misunderstand about ADHD. They think ADHD means you can’t focus. That’s not it at all. ADHD means you struggle to regulate your focus. You struggle to choose where it goes. When something generates enough dopamine – enough interest, enough novelty, enough reward – the ADHD brain doesn’t just focus on it. It locks on. It becomes consumed by it. It’s like your brain puts blinders on everything else in the world and says, “this is the only thing that exists now.”

And in a new relationship, the object of hyperfocus is your partner.

This is where the “I’ve never felt this way before” feeling comes from. And here’s what I really want you to hear: that feeling is real. The love is real. The intensity is real. The attention, the effort, the grand gestures, the 3 AM conversations – all of it is real. It’s not performative. It’s not manipulative. It’s not a strategy. It’s your brain doing exactly what it’s designed to do in the presence of high novelty and high reward.

But – and this is the part that nobody warns you about – novelty has an expiration date.

After weeks or months, the relationship becomes familiar. You know their stories. You’ve been to their favourite restaurant. The conversations, while still good, aren’t revealing shocking new information every five minutes. Routines emerge. The partner becomes… predictable. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Predictability is what healthy relationships are built on. Security comes from predictability.

For a neurotypical brain, this transition from infatuation to attachment is normal and actually kind of lovely. The butterflies settle into something steadier. Deeper. Warmer. The intensity softens and is replaced by something more sustainable.

For the ADHD brain? This transition can feel like someone flipped a switch. Like someone literally turned off the lights in a room you were dancing in. The dopamine supply that was fueling your extraordinary attention and presence? It drops. Not because the person isn’t wonderful. Not because the love died. But because the novelty — the thing your brain was actually feeding on — faded. And without that chemical fuel, maintaining the same level of engagement requires a level of effort that feels… enormous. Exhausting. Almost impossible.

From the outside, it looks like you pulled away. Like you checked out. Like you stopped caring.

From the inside, it feels like the feeling just… left. Like it evaporated. And you’re standing there going, “Where did it go? I was so in love three months ago. What happened to me?”

This. This is the hyperfocus-to-withdrawal cycle. And if you’ve lived it – even once – you know exactly what I’m describing. That sinking feeling of watching yourself pull away from someone you love and not being able to explain why.

What About Autistic Brains?

Now, I want to pause here because I’ve been talking primarily about the ADHD experience of this cycle, and if you’re autistic rather than ADHD, you might be thinking, “Okay but I do this too and I don’t think it’s about dopamine for me.” And you’re probably right.

Autistic brains can also experience incredible intensity at the beginning of a relationship, but the mechanism is often different. For autistic people, it frequently shows up through what we call special interest engagement. The new person becomes a special interest. You want to learn everything about them. You study them. You notice patterns in their behaviour that nobody else would catch. You remember every detail they’ve ever told you. The intensity is driven by deep fascination and pattern recognition rather than dopamine-seeking.

And honestly? It’s one of the most beautiful things about autistic love. The depth of attention is extraordinary. Your partner has probably never felt so seen, so known, so carefully studied by another human being.

But then the “discovery phase” ends. You’ve mapped this person. You know their patterns. And the special interest energy naturally shifts – not because you don’t love them, but because your brain has done the thing it does with special interests. It’s catalogued the information. The drive to discover is satisfied.

But that’s not all. The withdrawal for autistic brains might also be related to social energy depletion. The early phase of a relationship requires enormous social effort – constant communication, reading social cues, managing sensory experiences in new environments, navigating the unwritten rules of dating. That’s exhausting for anyone, but for an autistic brain processing all of that at a higher resolution? It’s depleting at a rate that’s hard to describe. At some point, your brain essentially says, “I need to go home. I need my routine. I need quiet.” So it may look like you’re fading away when you quite honestly just need some good ol’ fashioned alone time. And maybe a nap.

What about the AuDHD brain? You might experience all of it simultaneously. Dopamine-driven hyperfocus AND special-interest-driven deep engagement. Which makes the intensity at the beginning even more extreme – like, almost otherworldly in its intensity – and the shift even more confusing. Because it’s coming from two different neurological systems at once, and when both of them ease off? Woof. That contrast is rough.

A Quick Tangent About Love Bombing (Because We Need to Talk About It)

Okay. I want to take a second and address something directly, because I know some of you are listening to this description of hyperfocus intensity and thinking, “Wait… is that the same thing as love bombing?”

No. It is not. And this distinction matters, so stay with me.

Love bombing is a deliberate manipulation tactic. It’s a strategy used to control someone – to overwhelm them with attention and affection so they become dependent, and then the attention is withdrawn as a form of control. It’s calculated. It’s intentional. The person doing it knows what they’re doing.

Hyperfocus-driven intensity is neurological. It’s not calculated. It’s not strategic. It’s not used to manipulate a partner. It’s your brain being genuinely, authentically, neurochemically consumed by this new person. You’re not trying to control anyone. You’re not setting a trap. You’re just… in love, at a volume your brain can’t turn down.

It’s either full steam ahead or no steam ahead when you’re on the neurodivergent train.

The outcomes might look similar from the outside – intense attention followed by a pullback – but the motivation is completely different. Intent matters here. And conflating the two does real harm to neurodivergent people who already carry enough shame about their relationship patterns without being told they’re abusive on top of it.

If your partner or a friend or the internet has ever called your early relationship intensity “love bombing,” I want you to sit with this: what you experienced was your brain falling in love the only way it knows how. Full volume, no dimmer switch. That’s not manipulation. That’s neurology.

Okay. Tangent over. Now let’s get practical.

The Tool: What to Do With This Knowledge

Understanding the neuroscience is step one. And it’s a big step – just knowing what’s happening in your brain can lift an enormous amount of shame. But knowing isn’t enough. You need tools. So here are four things you can actually do with this information.

First: Name it and talk about it with your partner.

If you’re in a relationship, this pattern needs to become a conversation. Ideally before it causes damage – but honestly, it’s never too late to have this talk. Even if you’re already in the withdrawal phase and your partner is confused or hurt, naming what’s happening is still powerful.

And I know this conversation feels scary. Because you’re essentially saying, “Hey, the way I showed up at the beginning? My brain can’t sustain that. And I need you to know that the quieter version of my love isn’t less love.” That’s vulnerable. That’s really vulnerable.

But here’s what can happen when people have this conversation: their partner is relieved. Because their partner has been sitting there thinking they did something wrong. They’ve been wondering what changed, what they lost, whether you still want them. And hearing “this is my brain, not my heart. I still love you deeply, it just might look less intense” is like a weight being lifted.

Want a script to help you figure out how to actually say this?

You can say something like:

“There’s something I want you to understand about how my brain works. When we first got together, my brain was producing a massive amount of dopamine because everything was new and exciting. That’s just the way my brain works – when something’s new it gives me a big boost of dopamine. So that intensity was real — the love, attraction, and joy behind it was absolutely real. But my brain naturally shifts when things become familiar. It doesn’t mean I love you less. It means my brain has settled, and now we need to be more intentional about how we connect. Can we figure that out together?”

That’s not an excuse. That’s an explanation with an invitation to problem-solve as a team. And honestly? That’s what healthy relationships do. They get curious, communicate, and adapt.

Second: Build intentional novelty.

Okay, this one is my favourite because it sounds so simple – and it really is – and it works so well.

If the ADHD brain needs novelty to sustain dopamine-driven engagement, then you build novelty into the relationship on purpose. And here’s the thing people get wrong – they think novelty means skydiving or surprise trips to Paris. It doesn’t. The bar for novelty is way lower than you think. Your brain doesn’t need extreme. It just needs different.

A different restaurant. A question you’ve never asked each other. A new walking route. Cooking something you’ve never made before. Playing a board game instead of watching TV. Rearranging the living room furniture. Watching a genre of movie you’d normally never pick. Having a conversation somewhere other than the couch. 

One of my favourite suggestions is what I call the “Novelty Date Jar.” You each write ten date ideas on slips of paper – things you’ve never done together or haven’t done in a long time. Mix them up. Pull one out every week or every other week. The surprise element alone gives your brain a little dopamine nudge. And doing it together makes it connection instead of a chore.

The point isn’t to manufacture the intensity of the early relationship. You can’t. And trying to will make you both exhausted. The point is to give your brain just enough newness to stay engaged at a sustainable level. Think of it like this: the early relationship was a bonfire. You’re not trying to rebuild the bonfire. You’re tending a fireplace. Smaller flame, but it still keeps the house warm all winter.

Third: Redefine what love feels like.

This is the hardest one. And it’s the most important.

The hyperfocus phase feels like love. It feels like the most alive, most connected, most “in love” you’ve ever been. And because your brain experienced it so intensely, that feeling becomes the benchmark. It becomes what you think love is supposed to feel like.

So when the quieter phase arrives – the one where you’re not consumed by thoughts of your partner every waking second – it doesn’t feel like love. It feels like nothing. Like the love left. And that’s terrifying.

But here’s what I need you to understand: the hyperfocus phase isn’t love. It’s infatuation. It’s neurochemical fireworks. It’s your brain on a dopamine bender. It’s incredible and intoxicating and it’s not sustainable for any brain – it’s just that for the ADHD brain, the contrast between that phase and the next phase is so stark it feels like a loss.

Real love – the kind that sustains a relationship over years and decades – is quieter. Steadier. Less electric, more warm. It’s choosing someone on a random Tuesday evening when they’re annoying you and the laundry isn’t done and nobody’s made dinner and the dopamine is nowhere to be found. That’s secure love. That’s the real stuff.

Learning to recognize and value that quieter love is probably the single most important relationship skill an ADHD person can develop. Because if you keep chasing the bonfire, you’ll burn through every relationship you have. But if you learn to appreciate the fireplace? You’ll build something that actually lasts.

It doesn’t mean something is wrong. It means something is growing.

Fourth: Stop comparing the present to the peak.

This is a sneaky one. Your brain is going to do this thing where it constantly compares how you feel right now to how you felt during the hyperfocus phase. And the present is always going to lose that comparison. Always. Because you’re comparing a sustainable Tuesday evening to a neurochemical fireworks show.

That’s like comparing a typical weeknight dinner to the best meal you’ve ever had in your life. The typical weeknight dinner is perfectly good. It’s nourishing. It’s satisfying. But your brain keeps pulling up the memory of that one meal and going, “but remember THAT? This isn’t that.”

Of course it’s not. It was never going to be. That meal was a once-in-a-blue-moon experience. Those typical weeknight dinners are what actually keep you alive.

When you catch your brain doing this comparison – and you will, because ADHD brains are comparison machines — try gently redirecting it. Instead of “I don’t feel like I did at the beginning,” try “What does my partner do that makes me feel loved right now?” Switch from measuring intensity to noticing presence.

The Close

Here’s what I want you to take away today.

The intensity at the beginning of your relationship wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a trick your brain played on your partner. It was real love expressed at the volume your brain operates at when something lights it up. And the shift that came after wasn’t a sign that something is wrong with you. It was your brain doing exactly what it’s wired to do when novelty fades.

You’re not bad at love. You’re not incapable of commitment. Your brain just has a very particular relationship with novelty and dopamine. And now that you know that, you can work with it instead of being mystified by it.

Think of it this way: you’ve been trying to drive a manual transmission car without knowing it had a clutch. You kept stalling out and you thought you just couldn’t drive. Turns out – you can drive just fine. You just needed someone to show you the clutch.

One of the most powerful tools for navigating this cycle – and honestly, for navigating all of the ways neurodivergence shows up in your relationship – is creating a guide for your partner that explains how your brain works in love. Not a clinical report. More like a… user manual. A “here’s how to love me in a way that actually works” document.

I’m in the process of building a guided workbook called Love the Way You’re Wired that walks you through creating exactly that. It helps you map your wiring, understand your stress responses, build communication scripts, and create a practical guide your partner can actually use. If you’d like to get on the email list to get notified when it launches, go to JennaDalton.com/wired or click the link in the show notes. Or if you’re listening to this at a later date, you can still head to JennaDalton.com/wired to get your copy today.

If you enjoyed this episode please share it with someone you know needs to hear it. Knowledge is power and my goal is to empower as many neurodivergent people as possible. Thank you for supporting me in that journey.

I’m Jenna Dalton. Your brain isn’t broken. It’s beautiful. I’ll talk to you soon.

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