early dating anxiety & love’s uncertainty: navigating the “sleeping bunny”
Norepinephrine. Dopamine. Adrenaline. Cortisol. The early days of connection—whether a crush, a new romance, or the spark of a deepening friendship—can challenge the nervous system’s familiar rhythms. The brain, usually a steady stream of predictable thoughts, suddenly becomes a chaotic, swirling river of anticipation and analysis.
Gabi Abrão likens it to a sleeping bunny—a fragile, delicate thing, not meant to be grasped too tightly. And yet, many people have been conditioned to believe in the relationship escalator, the idea that every connection should move predictably through predefined stages. When that script isn’t followed, it can create a sense of uncertainty and self-doubt, prompting projections from loved ones.
But maybe the discomfort isn’t about failing to follow a structure. Maybe it’s just the natural anxiety that comes with vulnerability and the unknown—the fine print of connection. Entering a relationship is like signing a contract in invisible ink, one that’s always labeled RISK. Many people experience this push and pull: holding back, analyzing, then warming up, playing, seeing a future—only to retreat again. A slingshot kind of loving.
Regulating this cycle means learning to hold the sleeping bunny gently. To appreciate its soft huffs and the way it nestles into rest. To honor its fragility rather than trying to wake it up prematurely with grand declarations. Because love, or the idea of love, isn’t something to build an entire life around—it’s just one part of a much bigger ecosystem. A forest of shifting elements, of things growing and changing. Some days, something too loud might come along and startle the bunny. Or it might start to rain. Or maybe the bunny will wake and hop away, finding somewhere else to rest—with someone else. Which is exactly why we can’t put all our eggs in its basket.
And so, the work is not in taming love, nor forcing clarity where there is none. It’s in allowing the nervous system to exist alongside the unknown, to sit with the risk rather than trying to hop ahead of it. It’s in practicing presence, in choosing to enjoy the softness of the bunny while it’s here, rather than grasping for certainty about where it’s going. The heart will tug forward, the brain will try to pull it back, and the world will insist that love should be linear. But maybe the real invitation is to simply be with it, pet it, admire it—just as it is, right now.
