Think your crush is the one? What if they’re actually a mirror? This piece unpacks the tangled threads of infatuation, showing how our obsessions often point us back to ourselves. It’s not them you want—it’s the lost part of you. Let's talk about emotional projection, chasing fantasies, and how to finally come home—to yourself.
First Published on 30/10/2007 18:37
Second revised edition published on 20/07/2025 18:16
🧠 What is infatuation about?
Infatuation can feel like a lightning bolt to the chest. You see someone, and suddenly—bam!—they are living rent-free in your mind. Your heart races when they text. You craft imaginary futures while brushing your teeth. It feels wild, poetic, soul-shaking. But... is it real?
Here’s what I’ve learned: infatuation is rarely about them. It is often about you—or more precisely, the part of you that hasn’t been met, held, or expressed.
You see, infatuation is fuelled by unmet needs and forgotten dreams. It is not about the other person’s truth; it’s about the fantasy you build around them. That fantasy feels delicious because it taps into something ancient inside you—something still waiting to be chosen, loved, and seen.
According to research published in Frontiers in Psychology, infatuation activates the brain’s reward system the same way cocaine does. Dopamine spikes. Serotonin drops. Your body goes into a state of euphoric chaos. But it’s not sustainable—it’s a chemical illusion dressed up as cosmic fate.
And when the high fades? You’re left wondering what you ever saw in them.
Here's the twist: what you saw was a lost piece of yourself, projected onto them like a cosmic movie screen. Their confidence? You crave your own. Their warmth? Maybe you’ve been cold to yourself for too long.
So next time you feel that magnetic pull, ask yourself: “What do they awaken in me?” Because that’s your soul speaking—through the language of longing.
It is also important to stop romanticising this dynamic as divine. Sometimes, what looks like a soulmate is just unresolved pain wrapped in a pretty package. And it’s not your job to chase it. It’s your job to understand it.
In fact, I once wrote about this subtle ache of yearning disguised as beauty in this reflective piece. It is not just about the other person. It is about the part of you that still feels like something important is missing.
Spoiler: it’s not out there. It is in you.
🔍 Are mirror relationships just emotional projection in disguise?
Have you ever met someone who made your skin hum? Who looked at you like they already knew the parts you’ve hidden? It’s dizzying, right? It feels like home.
But what if it’s not home at all? What if it’s a mirror?
Mirror relationships are often mistaken for fate. You meet someone, and something cracks open. You feel exposed—but safe. Seen—but terrified. The connection is real, but so is the confusion.
The secret no one tells you? They’re not always your forever. Sometimes, they’re a reflection of your forgotten self.
We project what we’re not yet owning. The confidence we lack. The creativity we buried. The softness we silenced. Suddenly, someone walks in who carries it—and we fall in love, thinking it's about them. But it’s not. It’s about what they remind us of.
That’s not chemistry. That’s a cry for integration.
I’ve had people sit across from me, devastated after a breakup, and whisper, “But it felt so real.” And I tell them gently, “It was real. But not because of them—because of what you touched in yourself while loving them.”
We confuse that aliveness with destiny. But it’s not fate we’re meeting. It’s our unmet potential.
And the worst part? We chase the mirror instead of becoming what it reflects.
This is the heartbreak of projection. It feels sacred until it collapses. And when it does, we feel lost—not because we miss them, but because we lost our access to the parts of us they lit up.
But here’s the gift: every mirror relationship is an invitation. Not to cling, but to claim. You don’t need to run toward the mirror anymore. You can become the reflection.
When someone awakens a forgotten version of you, don’t chase them. Welcome yourself back.
💔 Why do we crave the fantasy of being “chosen”?
Let’s talk about a heartbreakingly common wound: the desire to be chosen.
There’s a particular ache that shows up in the silence between texts. The ache of not being picked. Not being pursued. Not being chosen.
It doesn’t matter how strong or self-aware you are—this ache sneaks in like fog. Quiet. Heavy. Familiar.
And most of the time? It has less to do with the person and more to do with the child inside you. The one who was overlooked, not praised enough, or taught to be useful instead of loved. That child is still waiting. Still wondering: If I’m good enough, will they choose me?
So we contort. We perfect. We cling to crumbs like they are cake.
But the fantasy of being chosen is built on a deep fear of being invisible.
And that’s not your fault. Our entire culture wires us to chase romantic validation. We’re taught to perform for love. To wait for “the one.” To hope someone comes along to pick us, save us, complete us. Dating apps, rom-coms, Instagram captions—they all fuel this narrative.
I wrote about this years ago in my post on Love n Dating, and honestly, not much has changed. The game is still rigged to make us feel like love is a prize we have to win—not a birthright we already carry.
But real healing? It begins when you walk away from the audition.
When you say, “I am no longer waiting to be chosen. I choose me.”
That moment—when you crown yourself—isn’t always fireworks. Sometimes, it feels like grief. But slowly, it becomes power. Peace. Home.
So if you’re still aching to be picked, just know: You were never unworthy. You were just taught to forget your worth.
And now? You remember.
👶 Could our inner child longings be disguised as crushes?
If you’ve ever found yourself falling for someone wildly inappropriate—emotionally unavailable, unpredictable, unkind—you’re not alone. You’re also not broken. You’re likely operating from a very old map: the one drawn by your inner child.
The inner child isn’t just a metaphor. It’s a real, psychological presence inside you—the part that holds early memories, core wounds, and unmet emotional needs. And when those needs aren’t met, they don’t disappear. They disguise themselves... often as romantic longing.
That “spark” you feel? It might be your inner child hoping that this time, someone will show up. Someone will stay. Someone will finally give you the safety, love, and praise you never got.
But here’s the heartbreak: we don’t just fall for lovers. We fall for the hope of repair.
This is why some people feel like home—even when they are chaos. They mimic the emotional tone of early caretakers. You subconsciously think, If I can get this person to love me, I’ve won the love I never had growing up.
But this isn’t love. It’s emotional time travel.
The healing? It starts when you stop looking for a parent in your partner. When you realise the adult you can now give the love the child you never received. This is the essence of what we explore in inner union healing.
One of the most powerful exercises I suggest is writing to your inner child daily. Let them be heard. Let them feel safe. Show them they don’t need to chase anymore—they are already home.
For a lighter example that parallels this hunger for sweetness, read this soulful take on nourishment. Just like we feed our bodies better with intention, we must feed our hearts with safety—not scarcity.
🔋 How can you reclaim the energy you give away in love?
You’ve probably felt it before—that drained, hollow exhaustion after obsessing over someone. Maybe it was a crush, a fling, or a relationship that never really was. Still, it left you empty, as if you’d poured yourself into a leaky vessel.
That’s no accident. Love—especially unbalanced love—can be an energetic transaction. And most of us are spending recklessly.
We give our attention, thoughts, and emotions to someone who hasn’t earned that level of access. We romanticise them, analyse them, write about them in our journals. All of this creates an energetic cord—and cords drain.
Reclaiming your energy starts with two radical acts: awareness and retrieval.
Start by asking: Where am I still bleeding energy? Is it in the form of checking their social media? Holding imaginary arguments? Waiting for them to text back?
Then comes retrieval. I teach clients to do a simple but sacred practice: Call your energy back. Close your eyes, put your hand on your heart, and whisper: “Wherever I’ve left pieces of myself—through longing, obsession, or fantasy—I call them back to me now.”
You’ll be shocked at how instantly grounding this is.
I also recommend what I call “unsent letter journaling.” Write to the person. Say everything. But don’t send it. This isn’t about them—it’s about you.
As I reflected on this in a past blog Sunny days & soul lessons, our energy deserves sunshine, not storms. Don’t hand it to someone who won’t even hold it gently.
When you protect your energy, you stop leaking. You start radiating.
📝 Is journaling the key to retrieving your Soul from past lovers?
You ever sit on your bed, candle lit, journal open, and just... bleed ink? That kind of journaling? That’s not just emotional expression. That’s soul retrieval.
When a relationship ends—or even when an almost-relationship evaporates—we often leave fragments of ourselves behind. In our fantasies, our regrets, our "what ifs." These fragments can weigh us down for years. That’s where journaling becomes more than self-care—it becomes sacred recovery.
I have worked with people who, years after a breakup, still felt a sense of unfinished energy. Why? Because they never reclaimed the part of themselves that got fused with that person. In energetic terms, their soul was still living in a past scene.
But you don’t have to stay trapped. One of the most transformative practices is unsent letter journaling.
Write to your ex, your crush, the one who ghosted you, the one who left you questioning your worth. Say what you wish you could’ve said. Honour what you learned. Grieve what was lost. Then, in the last paragraph, say this:
“I take back my energy. I take back my love. I retrieve the part of me that loved you so deeply, so naively, so hopefully. That part is mine again now.”
Burn it. Bury it. Or tear it up and toss it into the wind. Let it become a ritual.
This kind of emotional alchemy clears the space for inner union—which we’ll get into next. But first, ask yourself: What do I still carry that isn’t mine anymore? It might be time to write it out.
By the way, this isn’t about bitterness or blame. It is about clarity. You can love someone and still choose to be whole without them.
This concept of soul reclamation also connects beautifully with the idea of feeding yourself emotionally and spiritually—like nourishing your emotional core, just like we nourish our body with soul foods like these.
Your story isn’t stuck. It just needs permission to close the chapter.
🌗 What is inner union—and why does it matter more than romantic union?
Imagine this: instead of chasing “the one,” you become the one.
That’s inner union. The sacred integration of the masculine and feminine within. It’s not gendered—it’s energetic. The masculine is your presence, discipline, structure. The feminine is your intuition, creativity, flow. When these two archetypes are at war, you feel fragmented. But when they partner up? You become magnetic, sovereign, whole.
Most people look for a partner to complete what they haven’t cultivated inside. A woman might crave a man for protection because her inner masculine is dormant. A man might chase women for emotional nurturing because he hasn’t met his inner feminine. That’s not love—it’s outsourcing.
True love begins when both energies within you begin to dance instead of fight.
In practice, this means setting boundaries while staying open-hearted. It means leading your life with structure but letting your soul’s rhythm guide you. It means no longer looking for safety in others because you’ve built it inside.
Here’s a beautiful ritual I often suggest: Each morning, place one hand on your heart (feminine), and one on your belly (masculine). Whisper: “I am safe in my own energy. I honour both my wildness and my wisdom.”
You would be surprised what happens when your inner energies feel heard.
When I explored this further with clients, one woman broke down in tears and said, “I’ve been waiting for a man to hold me the way I should’ve held myself.” That’s the moment inner union clicked for her. And from that day, her relationship patterns shifted dramatically.
Want to go deeper? Read Burn the Old Map—it dives beautifully into this terrain and gives language to the landscapes of inner integration. Here’s the link.
Because romantic compatibility starts with inner compatibility. And when you’re in sacred relationship with yourself, you’ll attract partners who meet you there.
🪤 Can you heal codependency by ending the chase dynamic?
If you have ever found yourself anxiously texting, overgiving, or overthinking after the barest attention crumb from someone—you’ve danced with the chase dynamic.
It’s exhausting. But it’s also... familiar. And that’s the problem.
The chase dynamic often begins in childhood. When love was conditional. When you had to earn affection through performance, obedience, or emotional labour. You internalised a message: Love must be chased. I must hustle for worth.
So you repeat that in adult relationships. You text first. You bend over backward. You become the version of you they want, even if it kills your joy.
But here is the kicker: you’re not chasing them. You’re chasing the feeling of being enough.
To heal codependency is to stop outsourcing your self-worth. It is learning to sit with your own unmet needs without running toward someone else to fix them. It’s replacing urgency with inner stillness.
And yes—it is hard. Because urgency feels like love. But true love is quiet. It doesn’t beg. It doesn’t barter. It stays.
A good first step is a mantra: “I don’t chase, I attract.” Let it anchor you. You are not someone’s emotional side quest. You are the main character in your own story.
To explore these patterns further, I’d gently suggest revisiting this personal reflection, which unpacks how our fantasies can reveal our inner fractures.
And remember: healing isn’t about perfection. It’s about pausing. It’s about choosing to stay with yourself instead of abandoning yourself every time you feel unloved.
That’s the real union we’re building here. Not fantasy. Foundation.
🧘🏽 How do you shift from obsession to devotion—to yourself?
Obsession is noisy. Devotion is silent.
When we’re obsessed with someone, our minds spin. We dissect their texts, read between lines that don’t exist, check their Instagram like it holds our salvation. It’s exhausting.
Obsession says: I need them to feel okay.
But devotion says: I honour myself, no matter what they do.
And that shift? It’s spiritual. It’s energetic. It’s sacred.
Devotion to self isn’t about isolation. It’s about connection without collapse. It means waking up in the morning and asking, “How can I love me today?” Not because you’re narcissistic—but because you understand: no one else is coming to save you. You are your own sanctuary.
Want a practice? Every time you feel that obsessive pull, redirect it. Instead of rereading their last message, read your journal. Instead of replaying the date in your head, replay a moment where you showed up for yourself.
One woman I worked with created a “devotion shelf” in her room. On it, she placed notes to herself, photos of times she felt powerful, and books that cracked her open. That shelf became her altar of self-remembrance. Every time she walked past it, she remembered: I am already enough.
The world doesn’t need more people chasing love. It needs more people becoming love.
And devotion to self? That’s how you start.
🪞 What parts of yourself are you trying to outsource to love?
What we admire—or resent—in others is often what we’ve disowned in ourselves.
That confident partner? Maybe you buried your own voice long ago. That emotionally available friend? Maybe your softness got shut down in childhood. So you outsource. You say: Let them be that for me. And in doing so, you abandon yourself.
But what if, instead of outsourcing... you started reclaiming?
Here’s an exercise: Make a list of the three things you crave most in a partner. Now ask: Where does that already live inside me—and where have I abandoned it?
You’ll be amazed. We attract people who carry our medicine. But we mistake their gifts for our lack. When in truth—they’re just mirroring what wants to wake up inside us.
Want to go deeper? Revisit this article as a metaphor. Think of each sunny moment with another person as a reflection of your own inner radiance. It’s not theirs alone. It’s yours too.
Self-return is a spiritual practice. And every time you stop outsourcing love and start remembering your own wholeness, you become... undeniable.
🌒Are you confusing soulmates with shadowmates?
There’s a kind of love that burns too fast.
It walks in with poetry and chaos. The eyes are magnetic. The connection? Instant. You are convinced it's a soulmate. The kind of love that was written in the stars.
But what if it was written in your wounds?
Let’s talk about shadowmates—those people who don’t come to complete you, but to confront you. They enter your life not to stay forever, but to shine a harsh, holy light on your unhealed places. And it hurts. It feels like heartbreak, but it’s really your own shadow gasping for breath.
A shadowmate reflects back your deepest patterns—the fear of abandonment, your scarcity mindset, your distrust of joy. The passion? Electric. But the peace? Nowhere to be found.
One woman I worked with described it perfectly: “He felt like home. But the kind of home I had to survive, not the kind I could rest in.”
The difference between soulmates and shadowmates is compatibility. Not just in taste or attraction, but in nervous systems, values, visions. Soulmates regulate your heart. Shadowmates agitate your triggers.
This doesn’t mean shadowmates are villains. They’re mirrors. Teachers. Sacred disruptors. But they’re not always your forever. And that’s okay.
If you find yourself in a whirlwind, ask: Am I in love—or just activated? The body knows the difference.
Shadowmates aren’t mistakes. But clinging to them? That’s when we get stuck.
The path forward? Thank them. Grieve them. Learn. Then choose peace. Because real love feels like exhale.
For a deeper read on recognising unhealthy compatibility disguised as romance, the perfect lover tag offers timeless insight.
🔎 How to recognise if you are in love—or Just in projection?
Have you ever fallen in love with someone’s potential? Their aura, their vibe, their wounded charm? You’re not alone. But the truth is, most of us don’t fall in love with people. We fall in love with our projections of them.
We imagine their growth arc. We script a love story. We edit out the red flags. And suddenly, we’re not in a relationship—we’re in a romantic hallucination.
Projection is when we assign meaning to someone’s actions based on what we want them to mean. They said good morning? They care deeply. They cancelled plans? They must be scared of how intense this is.
But what if they’re just being themselves—and we’re the ones creating the fantasy?
Here’s the truth: real love sees clearly. It doesn’t need someone to change, grow, or become better. It meets them as they are.
To shift out of projection, ask:
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Am I interpreting or witnessing?
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Do I love who they are, or who I want them to be?
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Would I choose them if they stayed exactly this way forever?
These questions don’t destroy love. They purify it.
Projection-based love is exhausting. Clarity-based love is nourishing.
You don’t need to play therapist to someone’s trauma in the name of intimacy. You don’t need to shape yourself into their ideal to be loved back. You just need to stand in your truth—and see them in theirs.
And yes, it might mean letting go.
But in doing so, you make space for something rare: love based in reality. And reality, when truly accepted, is more sacred than fantasy could ever be.
🧡Are you ready to be your own beloved first?
You’ve been told all your life that love is something you find. That it's out there—on a dating app, in a soulmate, in someone who “completes” you.
But what if love isn’t a destination?
What if it’s a coming home—to yourself?
Being your own beloved isn’t a self-help cliché. It’s an act of radical, revolutionary intimacy. It means becoming the one who listens to you, comforts you, fights for your dreams, makes you laugh when you’re low.
And it’s not easy.
Because to love yourself means facing the parts of you you’ve rejected. The anger. The jealousy. The shame. You sit down with all of it—not to fix, but to embrace.
One man I worked with did a “self-honeymoon.” He booked a beach cottage, cooked candlelit dinners for himself, wrote daily love notes, and read poetry aloud under the stars. He said, “It was the first time I felt courted by my own soul.”
Being your own beloved is how you stop begging for breadcrumbs—because you’ve built the bakery inside.
You stop waiting. You start living.
And when real love comes along, it won’t fill you—it’ll celebrate you.
🌿 Does compatibility begin within you?
Let’s redefine a buzzword: compatibility.
Not as shared Spotify playlists or matching star signs. But as the inner harmony between your head, heart, and soul. Before you ask, “Are we compatible?”—ask, “Am I compatible with myself?”
Inner compatibility is about alignment. When your beliefs, boundaries, desires, and actions flow in the same direction. When your inner masculine and feminine energies respect each other. When your intuition and intellect walk hand-in-hand.
Without inner compatibility, you’ll keep choosing chaos that feels like chemistry.
When you’re disconnected within, you will be magnetised to people who mirror that fragmentation. That’s why healing your own polarities—your push and pull, your love and fear—is essential.
Try this: Sit in silence. Ask your heart: “What do you want?” Then ask your mind: “What do you need?” Then ask your body: “What do you feel safe with?”
If the answers conflict, you’ve got work to do. If they align? You’ve found your compass.
Compatibility isn’t static—it evolves. And when you evolve with intention, you attract partners who meet you there.
I talk more about that sacred nourishment—emotional, physical, spiritual—in this article about soul-feeding choices. It’s all connected. When we feed our inner world with intention, our outer world shifts too.
📍 Where do you go from here?
You’ve read this far, which tells me something: you’re not just curious. You’re ready.
Ready to stop chasing illusions. Ready to stop bleeding your worth on people who can't hold it. Ready to become your own sacred love story.
So where do you go from here?
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Start a daily self-devotion practice. Journal. Meditate. Move your body.
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Write your closure letter. Burn it. Bury it. Free yourself.
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Book a session. Yes, with me. I don’t offer quick fixes. We walk your trauma home.
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Read Burn the Old Map. Let it break you open and then rebuild you.
And remember: You’re not healing to attract better love. You’re healing because you deserve to feel whole, right here, right now.
This is your time. This is your turning point.
🪞 What if the person you are obsessing over was just a mirror?
Take a deep breath.
Close your eyes for a moment. Picture the person who kept you up at night. The one whose silence hurt more than harsh words. The one you made playlists for, dreamed about, journaled over, spiraled for.
Now gently ask yourself: What part of me was I trying to touch through them?
Because here’s the deep truth no one tells you: that person wasn’t the healing. They were the mirror. The portal. The trigger. The teacher.
They awakened something you thought you had lost. And maybe it felt magical, even divine. But the divinity wasn’t them. It was what they helped you remember—about you.
This is the sacred principle behind mirror relationships. They appear intense because they activate our emotional nervous system. They appear fated because they reflect the exact wound or potential we need to meet. They feel romantic because we project wholeness onto them.
But wholeness isn’t theirs to give. It’s yours to retrieve.
Your obsession was never about them. It was about the feeling you accessed around them. Aliveness. Mystery. Softness. Power.
You can keep chasing those feelings externally—or you can become the source.
When I guide clients through mirror release rituals, we always end with this line: “I bless what they mirrored. I now meet it within.” That moment?.
You were never broken. You were just fragmented. And now—gently, courageously—you’re calling those pieces home.
So, to the one you loved through fantasy and pain: Thank you for showing me what I had forgotten I was.
Now, it’s time to come back to you.
🔚From infatuation to inner union—The journey home to you
This wasn’t just about romantic longing.
It was about healing the hidden ache that’s lived inside you for years. The ache to be seen, loved, chosen—not just by a partner, but by your own soul.
We’ve gone from infatuation to integration. From craving to clarity. From “I need them” to “I remember me.”
That’s the essence of inner union. It’s not the absence of love—it’s the end of self-abandonment.
You’ve reclaimed your energy, rewritten your story, and honoured every lost version of you. That’s sacred. That’s healing. That’s legacy.
Now you don’t chase. You attract. You don’t perform. You rest in your truth.
You’ve become compatible—with your path, your presence, your purpose.
And when love comes again—and it will—you’ll know it not by the rush, but by the peace.
So here's your final invitation:
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Love yourself like no one ever did.
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Show up for your inner child like no one ever could.
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And walk forward, not waiting to be chosen, but knowing you already are.
Your healing begins here.
🙋🏻♀️FAQs about infatuation, inner union & emotional projection
1. Is it wrong to feel obsessed in the beginning of a connection?
Not wrong—just human. But it’s a sign to pause. Obsession often signals unmet emotional needs, not divine alignment. Use it as a mirror, not a mandate.
2. What if I still miss someone who hurt me deeply?
That’s normal. Trauma bonds are sticky. Missing someone doesn’t mean they’re your person—it means your nervous system is looking for closure. Start with self-reparenting and retrieval journaling.
3. Can mirror relationships turn into long-term healthy ones?
Yes—but only if both people are aware of the projection and committed to healing individually. If one stays in illusion, the relationship will remain unbalanced.
How do I know I’ve reached inner union?
There’s no finish line—but you’ll notice less reactivity, more peace, better boundaries, and a deep sense of “I am enough.” You’ll stop seeking love to feel whole.
How do I gently end a projected relationship I now see clearly?
Compassion. Honour the connection, but communicate your clarity. “I now see I was seeking something in you that I need to find in me.” End with grace, begin again in truth.
👤 Author
Tushar Mangl is a counselor, vastu expert, and author of Burn the Old Map, I Will Do It, and Ardika. He writes on personal finance, vastu, healing, books, food, and the art of soulful living. Blogging at tusharmangl.com since 2006.
“I help unseen souls design lives, spaces, and relationships that heal and elevate—through ancient wisdom, energetic alignment, and grounded action.”
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🔮 Book your private healing session now: TusharMangl.com
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