“Until you faint, it will lead your life and you will call it destiny.” ~ Carl Jung
I was sitting in my therapist’s office when she asked me a question that made me cold.
“Tell me about the last good time that happened in your life.”
I opened my mouth to answer and then stopped. My heart is empty. Not because nothing good happened, but because I really can not remember myself enjoying it all.
She waited. Silence feels heavy.
Finally, I said, “I got an ad three months ago.”
“And how do you feel?”
“It’s really scary. I spent the first week believing they were wrong. The second week I wondered when they realized it. In the third week I started showing late meetings.”
She nodded. “Why?”
At that time, I did not have an answer. But looking back now, I know exactly why.
I’m hurting myself. And I did not know I was doing it.
Patterns I Cannot See
For a long time, I thought self-destruction seemed obvious, like quitting a job, exploding a relationship, or making clear self-destructive choices that you can point to and say, “That’s when I ruined everything.”
Mys does not look like that.
My quiet. Soft. Almost invisible.
It seems reluctant when I should be celebrating. Like the over-the-top decision I already made. Like pulling back when things start to feel good.
There is this guy I met a few months ago. Everything was easy with him – comfortable in a rare way. We laugh a lot. There is no drama. There are no red flags. Just’s very good.
And that was when I started looking for problems.
I will analyze his article. Read too much until he answers. Create a narrative about how he might lose interest even though nothing in his attitude suggested it. One night after a lovely dinner, I was arguing about little things that I could not remember what they were.
He looked at me in amazement. “Where does this come from?”
I do not know. I just realized that silence felt wrong, like I was waiting for the other shoe to fall off, and if it did fall, maybe I should … kick it myself.
He finished the story a few weeks later. Not because of a match, but because I created a lot of distance with nothing to cling to.
And I told myself I was right — that it would not work.
Good times feel like traps
I began to notice patterns everywhere.
A friend invited me to join her book club. I said yes, excited then took two weeks to convince myself that I said something awkward in the group chat and that not everyone wanted me there. I stopped appearing after the second meeting.
I would start the project with a lot of energy – new exercise habits, creative hobbies, even diary writing – and in a week or two I would stop. Not because I did not enjoy them. But because when they start to feel good, something inside of me will whisper, “This will not last. Do not stick.
The worst part? There is no feeling of self-destruction at this time.
It feels like:
“I’m just being realistic.”
“I protect myself from disappointment”
“There is something emotional I should believe in my gut.”
And sometimes those thoughts Is That’s right. Sometimes your gut. Is Tell you the truth.
But I began to use my intuition as an excuse to run away from the unknown.
Awareness that changes everything.
I talked on the phone with my best friend, telling him I was stuck. How nothing seems to work for me. How I “tried hard” but continued to end up in the same place.
She was silent for a while. Then she said softly, “Can I ask you?”
“Sure.”
“Do you remember when you got that independence last year? One that you were very excited about?”
I did. It’s a dream project – being creative and getting paid is definitely the kind of work I want to do.
“You told me you turned it down because the deadline was too tight. But you also told me that you would clean up your schedule that month, especially to make room for new opportunities.”
My stomach is down.
“And the guy you’re seeing – the one you say ‘does not feel right?’ “You told me a week before you finished it that you never felt comfortable with anyone.”
I can not say.
“I do not try to be cruel,” she said. “But it seems like every time something good starts to happen, you find a reason to walk away from it.”
That conversation sat with me for days. Actually to the week.
Because she was right.
I was not stuck because life kept giving me bad cards. I was stuck because every time I got a good hand I bent.
What I really defend
I spent a lot of time trying to figure it out Why.
Why would I destroy what I claimed I wanted? Why did I run away from peace when I spent so long chasing?
The final answer is almost embarrassingly simple.
Good things feel unfamiliar. And strangers do not feel safe.
I have spent so much of my life in the pattern of stress, anxiety and overthinking that they will become my foundation. My normal. Almost comfortable in a strange way.
Chaos is predictable. I know how to navigate it. I knew who I was in it.
But quiet? Stable? Is everything really working?
That is undefined territory. And my brain, which is wired for survival, saw land without a chart as dangerous.
So it did what it always did when it felt dangerous: it tried to get me back to where I used to be.
Even the familiar place is the real thing I am trying to escape.
The quiet way I keep myself small
Looking back on my self-destruction, it doesn’t look serious. It looks like this:
Wait too long.
By telling myself I need to research more, prepare more, be more prepared – until the opportunity passes me by.
Self-doubt is growing.
Start something fun, then convince yourself halfway that I did something wrong or that it didn’t matter at all.
Consider a simple decision.
Spending hours in pain over options that really do not require much thought, then feeling exhausted by the mental exercises that I just’s giving up.
Withdraw when things feel good.
Establishing distances in communication, slowing down on projects, finding problems that don’t exist – all because comfort feels like a warning sign instead of a green light.
Start strong, then lose momentum.
The initial excitement will take me a bit, but as soon as it goes away and things take a constant effort, I will let them fade away.
Nothing great. There is nothing that others need to notice.
But enough kept me stuck from year to year, wondering why I could not seem to move forward.
Learn to stop struggling with yourself
The change did not happen all at once. And it really does not come from beating myself up or forcing myself to “make it better.”
It started with something softer: remarks.
I started paying attention to the moments I wanted to back off. Do not judge them. Do not try to repair immediately. Just … see them.
Oh. I’m doing it again. I was about to cancel these projects because I convinced myself that they did not want me to be there.
There. I think so much about this email that I will never send it.
I see you brain. You are trying to protect me by making me believe that this good thing is secretly a bad thing.
That realization – without being embarrassed by it – created enough room for me to make other choices.
Not always. Not perfect.
But sometimes.
What really helped
I stopped thinking that discomfort meant danger.
This is very big. It took me a long time to believe that if I felt uncomfortable, it would be wrong. But I began to see that discomfort could also mean something. New.. And new does not mean bad – it just means unknown.
I made things smaller
Instead of “completely changing my life”, I focused on “texting”. “Show to objects”. “Finish this one.” Self-destruction thrives on big and overwhelming expectations. Minor actions do not trigger the same alarm.
I no longer need to feel ready.
I continued to wait with confidence before I could move forward. But I learned that trust does not come first – action happens. So I started moving even when I felt uncertain. And little by little, with each step, confidence followed.
I became a good person for myself.
Self-criticism offers self-destruction. The more brutal I was with myself, the more I wanted to hide. So I soften the sound in my head. Less “What is your problem?” And more “I see you’re scared. Okay.”
Where I am now
I still find myself doing it sometimes – the familiar pull to back off when things start to feel good.
Last week I almost canceled a coffee appointment with someone I wanted to get to know better. My brain has many reasons why I should: I’m too busy, they may not want to hang out, it’s awkward, I should wait until I feel more “on”.
But I recognize the pattern. And I went anyway. And it’s so cute.
Does not change lives. Not perfect. Just’s very good. Easy. Well, at least I didn’t go down without explaining myself first.
That for me is progress.
If you find yourself in this.
If this one is the same, know that you are not broken.
You are not lazy or lacking in discipline or making fundamental mistakes.
You may just be scared. And that is people.
Self-destruction is not a failure. It is about trying to protect yourself from pain, even when that protection does more harm than protection.
You do not have to struggle to grow. You do not have to force the way forward.
You just have to be more discriminating with the help you render toward other people.
Because the biggest change doesn’t always do more than that.
Sometimes it is just learning to stop standing your way.
And let good things remain good.
About Dakota J. Dawson
Dakota J. Dawson writes about emotional sovereignty, healing, personal growth, mental health, and self-destruction. Her work focuses on emotional boundaries, freeing yourself from destruction, and learning to protect your peace without apologizing for it. She writes about Stoic detachment and the patterns that keep us stuck – pleasant people, overthinking, toxic mistakes, and the quiet way we stand our way – and offers gentle and practical strategies to choose for yourself. Get her e-book, Stop letting things hurt you – Unlock at promotional prices here.
