The Rabbit Garden That Stole My Focus

I never thought a digital rabbit would steal my peace.

It began with curiosity—a Japanese-inspired slot game called 招财兔, where glowing bunnies danced across spinning reels. I’d play after work: a quick 20 minutes, just to ‘feel the magic’. But something changed.

The first sign? I stopped noticing time.

Then came the ritual: check the daily bonus, chase the free spins, scroll through leaderboards like they were life-or-death rankings.

I wasn’t just playing. I was performing. And that’s when the cracks appeared.

When Rewards Became Crutches

As someone trained in behavioral psychology, I knew how reward systems worked—dopamine hits from unpredictable wins, variable reinforcement schedules… but knowing it and living it are two different things.

The game didn’t ask for money. It asked for attention.

Every win felt like validation; every loss? A personal failure. The more I played, the more I needed that spark—the high of a sudden jackpot—or else everything felt flat.

One night, after three hours of chasing a single bonus round, I stared at my screen with dry eyes and numb hands. Not happy. Not sad. Just… empty.

That’s when I realized: the game wasn’t fun anymore—it was therapy.

Rebuilding My Inner Rhythm

I stepped back—not cold turkey—but with intention.

Using principles from user experience psychology (and my own therapy notes), I redesigned my relationship with play:

• Set strict time limits (30 mins max). Use visual cues: turn off notifications; close tabs not labeled ‘fun’
• Shift focus from winning to presence: notice textures on screens, music patterns—like mindfulness in motion defined budget = one takeaway coffee per day (about $5)
• Used gamification not to addict myself—but to retrain:
  • Created a ‘mental balance sheet’ tracking mood vs. play duration done weekly check-ins instead of daily guilt trips turned rewards into reflection tools instead of goals e.g., if I won small amounts → journal what emotion arose (excitement? relief?) The goal wasn’t control—it was clarity.

You’re Not Weak—You’re Responsive

The truth? Our brains are wired to respond to novelty and reward—even when we know better.
But awareness changes everything.
The rabbit garden isn’t evil—it’s designed that way.
But we can choose our path through it.

I still visit occasionally—not to win—but to remember who I am outside the loop.

And sometimes… that’s enough.

## Final Thought

“Don’t fear your cravings—understand them.”

If you’re reading this because you’ve said “just one more spin” too many times today—I see you.

You’re not broken.
You’re human—and beautifully responsive.

Let’s learn how to dance without losing ourselves in the rhythm.