The Real Reason You Can't Just Stop

We're living in a world that's constantly feeding us hits of pleasure. That little ping from your phone, the scroll through Instagram, the accessibility of being able to vape from your bed, the chocolate bar at 3pm, the glass of wine to unwind. We've become so accustomed to these quick dopamine hits that we barely notice how much we're chasing them anymore.

The Chemistry of Chasing Pleasure

I want you to understand something about dopamine, because it's running more of your life than you probably realise. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter in your brain that's meant to reward you for things that help you survive and thrive, creating feelings of satisfaction and motivation. When you eat nourishing food, connect with someone you love, or accomplish something meaningful, your brain releases dopamine. It's saying "yes, more of this please."

But here's what makes dopamine so powerful: it doesn't just signal pleasure when you get a reward—it spikes even higher during the anticipation of that reward. Research shows that your brain releases more dopamine when you're chasing something than when you actually catch it. This is why scrolling for the next interesting post feels more compelling than reading one, why checking your phone for notifications is more addictive than the notifications themselves, and why the possibility of winning keeps gamblers pulling the lever long after they've lost everything. Dopamine is essentially a learning signal that says "this matters—pay attention and do it again." It's the wanting, not the liking, that drives us.

For our ancestors, this system was perfectly designed for their world. Finding ripe fruit after days of searching? Huge dopamine hit—your brain needed to remember where that tree was and motivate you to go back. Successful hunt after hours of tracking? Another surge of dopamine to reinforce that behaviour. The anticipation during the search, the mounting excitement as they got closer, and finally the reward itself all worked together to encode important survival information. These rewards were rare, hard-won, and genuinely life-sustaining. The dopamine system evolved to help us survive in an environment of scarcity, where pleasure was occasional and had to be earned through real effort.

We now live in a world of abundance that our ancient brain chemistry was never designed for. That same dopamine system that once rewarded us for finding a handful of berries is now being activated dozens of times a day by engineered foods, instant notifications, and endless streams of novelty. We went from having to climb a tree for sweetness to having dessert delivered to our door in 30 minutes. Our brain's reward system hasn't evolved to match this new reality—it's still operating on survival software from thousands of years ago.

The problem is, our modern world has figured out how to hijack this system—and it's especially good at exploiting the anticipation mechanism.

Take sugar as an example. Every time you eat something sweet, dopamine surges through your brain's reward pathways. It's the same pathway that lights up with addictive substances—just to a lesser degree. But the real trap isn't just the sweetness itself—it's what happens before you even take a bite. The moment you think about that chocolate bar in your desk drawer, or walk past the bakery and smell fresh cookies, or see a dessert menu, your brain starts releasing dopamine in anticipation. Your mouth might water, your focus narrows, and suddenly you can't think about anything else. This anticipatory dopamine is what we experience as craving—that urgent, almost magnetic pull toward the reward.

The more often you give in to that craving, the stronger the anticipation circuit becomes. Your brain learns the cues: the time of day, the emotional state, the location, even the specific wrapper or brand. Each time, the anticipation gets encoded more deeply, and the craving intensifies before you've even satisfied it. This is why breaking a sugar habit feels so difficult—you're not just fighting the pleasure of eating it, you're battling a learned anticipation response that's been carved into your neural pathways through repetition.

When you're constantly flooding your brain with these dopamine hits, your system starts to adapt. Your brain reduces the number of dopamine receptors, meaning you need more and more of that substance or behaviour to feel the same level of satisfaction.

How a Maladaptive Pattern Takes Hold

Let me paint you a picture of how this actually develops, because it's so gradual that most people don't even realise it's happening.

Maybe it started innocently enough. You had a stressful morning at work, and someone brought in cupcakes for afternoon tea. That first bite—pure bliss. The sweetness hits your tongue, dopamine floods your system, and for a moment, the stress just melts away. Your brain takes note: sugar equals relief.

So the next time you're feeling overwhelmed, you remember that feeling. You grab a chocolate bar on your way home. It works again. Before long, 3pm rolls around each day and you're not even consciously stressed—your brain just knows it's time for something sweet. You've created a neural pathway that says: discomfort → sugar → relief.

But here's what's happening behind the scenes. Each time you flood your system with sugar, your brain releases less dopamine in response. The receptors become less sensitive. So now you need two chocolate bars to feel what one used to give you. Or you're adding sugar to your coffee, reaching for dessert after every meal, keeping a stash of sweets in your desk drawer "just in case."

And here's the insidious part: the anticipation circuit becomes stronger even as the actual reward becomes weaker. You find yourself thinking about sugar more often throughout the day. The moment stress appears, your brain automatically cues up the anticipation—flooding you with dopamine before you've even reached for anything. This is why the craving feels so overwhelming, so impossible to resist. Your brain is literally giving you a hit of dopamine just for thinking about it, reinforcing the entire pattern.

You're not weak. You're not lacking discipline. Your brain is doing exactly what it's designed to do—it's learning, adapting, and trying to maintain balance. The problem is, it's adapting to an input it was never meant to handle in such high, constant doses.

When Pleasure Becomes a Problem

Dr. Anna Lembke, author of Dopamine Nation, talks about something that really struck me: Our brains are wired to maintain equilibrium, so when we flood ourselves with pleasure, our system automatically swings toward pain to compensate. This is why you might feel anxious or low after a sugar binge, or why you need that coffee just to feel normal in the morning.

We're not just seeking pleasure anymore—we're running from discomfort. And in doing so, we've created this exhausting cycle of chasing the next hit while our baseline of contentment keeps dropping lower.

The maladaptive pattern around sweet food often looks like this: You eat sugar to feel better, which works temporarily. But then your blood sugar crashes, your mood dips, and you feel worse than before. So you reach for more sugar to fix that. Round and round it goes, and meanwhile, your dopamine system is getting more and more out of balance.

You might notice you're thinking about sweet food more often. Planning your day around when you can have it. Feeling anxious or irritable if you can't access it. Promising yourself you'll start fresh tomorrow, then finding yourself elbow-deep in the biscuit tin by afternoon. What you're experiencing in those moments isn't just weakness—it's anticipatory dopamine firing, creating cravings that feel almost unbearable. These aren't character flaws—these are the hallmarks of a dopamine-driven pattern that's taken hold.

The Neuroscience Behind the Struggle

Research shows that sugar activates the same reward centres in your brain as drugs of abuse. The moment sweetness hits your tongue, your brain anticipates the incoming energy and releases dopamine. Then, as your blood sugar spikes and the sugar floods your system, there's another wave of dopamine release. It's a double hit.

But with repeated high sugar intake, something changes. Your dopamine receptors become less sensitive. Your insulin signalling gets disrupted. The reward circuit that should make you feel satisfied starts requiring more intense stimulation. And you find yourself needing more sugar just to feel okay, let alone good.

Meanwhile, the anticipation mechanism becomes hypersensitive. Your brain gets better and better at recognising the cues that predict sugar is coming—the time of day, your emotional state, even driving past a certain shop. Each cue triggers a cascade of anticipatory dopamine, creating cravings that feel increasingly urgent and difficult to resist.

You might notice stronger cravings, mood swings, energy crashes, or this low-level anxiety that seems to hover just beneath the surface. These aren't separate issues—they're all connected to the same dysregulated system.

This isn't a moral failing. This is your brain chemistry responding exactly as it's designed to—it's just responding to inputs it was never meant to handle in such high, constant doses.

What's Really Going On Underneath

Here's what I've learned through working with clients: the pattern around sweet food is rarely just about the food itself. When we start exploring what's underneath the reaching, we often find something else entirely.

Maybe sugar became your go-to when you needed comfort as a child, and no one was available to provide it. Maybe it's the only "break" you allow yourself in a day of constant giving to others. Maybe it's how you push down feelings you were taught weren't acceptable to express. Maybe it's the rebellion against all the rules and restrictions you've lived under.

Your maladaptive patterns developed for a reason. They have been trying to help you cope, to soothe, to survive. The problem is, what once helped you get through is now keeping you stuck.

What Dopamine Fasting Actually Means

So what do we do about this? The concept of "dopamine fasting" has become a bit trendy, and honestly, some versions of it are a bit extreme. But at its core, there's real wisdom here.

Dopamine fasting isn't about depriving yourself or punishing your brain. It's about giving your system space to reset, to restore its natural sensitivity to pleasure and reward. It's about stepping back from the constant stimulation and allowing yourself to feel what's actually there underneath all the reaching and consuming.

Here's what's crucial to understand: when you're dopamine fasting, you're not just abstaining from the behaviour itself—you're also learning to sit with the anticipatory dopamine surges without acting on them. Those cravings, that mental pull, the obsessive thinking about what you're avoiding—that's all anticipatory dopamine at work. The discomfort you feel isn't just withdrawal from the substance; it's your brain firing off anticipation signals that used to guarantee a reward, but now lead nowhere.

This is actually where the real work happens. When you feel that craving rise up—when you think about the chocolate bar and your mouth starts watering, when you get that urgent pull to check your phone—and you don't act on it, something powerful occurs. You're allowing the anticipatory dopamine to spike and then naturally subside without reinforcement. You're breaking the learned connection between the cue, the craving, and the reward.

It's uncomfortable. Your brain will protest loudly because it's anticipating something it's learned to expect. But each time you sit through that wave of anticipation without acting on it, you're teaching your brain that the cue no longer predicts the reward. The anticipation circuit gradually weakens. The cravings become less intense, less frequent, less all-consuming.

With the sugar example, this might look like gradually reducing your intake so your brain can readjust without the intense cravings that come with going cold turkey. It's not about never having something sweet again—it's about breaking the automatic pattern of reaching for it every time you feel uncomfortable, and more importantly, learning to experience the craving without immediately satisfying it.

Building a Different Relationship with Pleasure

Here's what I've learned, both personally and through working with clients: true healing doesn't come from fighting against yourself or forcing change. It comes from understanding what your patterns are trying to protect you from, and gently creating new choices.

When you reduce your intake of these quick dopamine hits—whether it's sugar, social media, or whatever your go-to is—something beautiful can happen. Your brain's dopamine receptors start to increase their sensitivity again. The anticipation circuits that once fired constantly begin to quiet down. You become more responsive to natural rewards. That sunset actually moves you. A conversation with a friend feels deeply satisfying. The simple pleasure of a walk or a cup of tea becomes enough.

You're not numbing anymore. You're feeling. And yes, sometimes what you feel is uncomfortable. But you also start to feel alive again, connected to yourself in a way that no amount of sugar or scrolling could ever provide.

Practical Steps Forward

If this is resonating with you, start small. Don't try to overhaul your entire life overnight—that's just your brain looking for another quick fix. Instead:

Notice when you're reaching for something sweet. Is it genuine hunger or enjoyment? Or are you trying to soothe something, avoid something, or fill a void? Just notice, without judgement. Pay attention to what happens in the moments before you reach—what you're thinking, feeling, what triggered the craving.

Understand the craving for what it is. When that urgent pull hits, recognise it as anticipatory dopamine—your brain firing off signals based on learned patterns. It feels overwhelming, but it's just chemistry. The craving itself is giving you a dopamine hit, which is why it feels so compelling. But here's the thing: if you don't act on it, the anticipation will peak and then naturally subside. Usually within 10-20 minutes.

Get curious about the pattern. When did this start? What else was happening in your life? What does the sugar give you that you're not getting elsewhere? What cues trigger your cravings—certain times, places, emotions, situations?

Start reducing gradually. Maybe it's having fruit instead of chocolate a few times a week. Maybe it's waiting 10 minutes before reaching for something sweet to see if the craving passes. Small changes that let your brain adjust. Each time you wait through a craving without acting on it, you're weakening the anticipation circuit.

Create space for the feelings underneath. When you feel the urge but don't act on it immediately, what comes up? Boredom? Anxiety? Sadness? Anger? These are the feelings the sugar has been covering up. They need to be felt and processed, not fed. Sit with them. Breathe through them. Notice them without needing to fix them.

Build in natural dopamine sources. Movement, meaningful connection, accomplishing small tasks, time in nature, creative expression. These won't give you the instant hit that sugar does, and at first, with your desensitised receptors, they might not feel like much at all. But as your system recalibrates, these natural pleasures will start to satisfy you in ways sugar never could.

Be patient with yourself. Your brain has been wired this way for years, possibly decades. It needs time to rewire. The anticipation circuits won't disappear overnight. There will be days you slip back into old patterns. That's not failure—that's part of the process. Each time you notice the pattern and make a different choice, you're building new neural pathways.

Remember, you're not broken. You're not lacking willpower or discipline. Your brain developed this pattern to help you cope with something. The intense cravings you experience aren't a sign of weakness—they're just your brain's anticipation system doing what it was trained to do. When you understand this, you can approach change with compassion instead of criticism. And that changes everything.

The Path to Balance

The goal isn't to eliminate pleasure from your life. It's to restore balance and equilibrium to your system. Buddhist teachings have understood this for thousands of years—the middle way, the path between indulgence and deprivation. When we're constantly chasing pleasure, we're actually running from pain. True peace comes not from avoiding discomfort, but from learning to sit with it.

Dopamine fasting isn't really about denying yourself pleasure—it's about willingly entering the discomfort so your system can recalibrate. It's about sitting with the anticipatory dopamine surges, feeling the cravings rise and fall like waves, without constantly needing to act on them. It's about choosing temporary pain (the craving, the boredom, the feelings you've been avoiding) so you can return to a natural state of balance. When you stop constantly tipping the scales toward pleasure, your brain can finally find its centre again.

This is what the Buddhist teachings point to: suffering comes from craving, from this constant reaching for more. When we can be present with what is—even when ‘what is’ feels uncomfortable—we find a deeper contentment that no amount of sugar or scrolling could ever provide. It's about coming home to yourself instead of constantly seeking the next escape, reconnecting with pleasure that's real, sustainable, and genuinely nourishing because it arises from balance, not from excess.

If you're struggling with patterns around food, numbing, or constantly seeking the next hit of pleasure, there's nothing wrong with you. These are survival patterns your system developed because at some point, they helped you cope or get through something difficult. They made sense then, even if they're not serving you now.

The work I do with clients through Havening and Compassionate Inquiry isn't about fixing you or forcing willpower you don't have. It's about getting curious—really curious—about what's underneath the reaching. What are these patterns protecting? What do they give you that you're not getting elsewhere?

Do reach out if anything resonates or if you find yourself needing extra support and guidance around these behaviours or patterns—I'm here.

Alice