Things I still do, even though I know better

Why I self-sabotage, and what my therapist said that is helping me stop.

little love note from me, to me, and me to you. handwritten notecards now up on my shop, you can click here or use the button below to check them out :)

I am the queen of self-sabotage.

Should there ever be an award for “one who punishes themselves the most despite being a relatively decent being of the human species,” I would certainly have the golden medal.

My therapist’s favorite line these days is, “that sounds pretty self-sabotage-y.” No kidding Susan. (That’s not her name, but today it is. Today Susan is my therapist. Today my therapist is self-sabotage-sighting-susan.)

In therapy yesterday I reverted to my 15-year old patient self: I was silent, defiant, and refused to make eye contact. You can’t help me, stubborn little me thought. I’m broken beyond repair. Unsalvageable. A total nightmare client who Susan probably hates. But I don’t care, hate me, Susan. I’m a lost cause anyhow.

This grumpy version of myself pisses me off.

I can’t stand her. She’s annoying, obstinate, and kind of a dick. This is the version of me that comes out when therapy gets hard—not challenging—hard. When therapy starts to feel like a place I go because I’m sick and need mending, and that means acknowledging there’s things to fix. When therapy starts to feel like a broken record, which I interpret as a reflection of my inability or refusal to change. When therapy is at a stand still, and it feels like no progress is being made. Proof (or so I determine it), that I’ll never get better.