Letter From a Therapist: On Self-Sabotage

Dear client,

Self-sabotage is a useless phrase. Let’s retire it. Instead, consider this:

We live the life our nervous system can tolerate.

Take, for instance, a familiar story of a woman who wants a committed relationship. She longs for someone steady, kind, present. Someone who listens. Someone who stays. But she keeps choosing the opposite—people who don’t commit, don’t listen, don’t even seem to like her all that much. And each time, she thinks: Maybe this one will change.

They don’t. They never do. And so she sighs, defeated: I must be sabotaging myself. I must not really want to be happy.

Well—yes. And also, no.

Let’s reframe. Instead of seeing her as her own worst enemy, let’s see her as someone living within the limits of what her nervous system can bear. This changes the story:

A woman who wants love dates the unavailable because—despite the inevitable pain—this is what feels survivable.

Why? Safety. Or the illusion of it. If loving has ever left her feeling unworthy, unwhole, terrified of her own unlovability, then she’s not just looking for love—she’s looking to protect the most tender part of herself. But why these people? Why the fixer-uppers?

Because if she can make the impossible happen—if she can get this person, the one who won’t commit, to commit—then finally she will have proved she was worthy all along. That’s the holy grail.

And sure, it hurts. But there’s a greater pain lurking: the possibility of being seen by someone available, someone capable of loving her—and then being rejected anyway. That kind of rejection wouldn’t be about them. It would be about her. It would confirm her worst fear: that she was never enough to begin with.

And so, she sticks with the script. The one that feels painful but also weirdly safe.

See how different this is from self-sabotage? Self sabotage dead-ends in blame; the other story is a doorway. One tells her she is her own enemy; the other asks: What are you protecting?

Which brings us here: If we live the life our nervous system can handle, then the work is not about fixing ourselves. It’s about expanding what we can tolerate.

Including goodness.

Which, believe it or not, can be harder than it sounds. You might scoff, as I did, when I first heard the phrase “tolerating goodness” in a somatic therapy training—I tolerate goodness just fine, thanks. Pass the chocolate while I binge watch this show. But that’s not exactly goodness. That’s more of a numbness. That’s soothing.

Goodness is different in that it requires a little more intention (or attention) from us.

What is goodness for you? For me, it’s usually found in nature.

If I could have it all my way, I would tell this woman—our woman—to walk among trees. To look at the way trunks pattern themselves, how the light squints through branches. To breathe in the sharpness of cool air, the faint wet dog smell of melted snow. To hear puffed up birds rustling in the underbrush, their tiny, excited conversations. And I would tell her to open her heart, however much or little she wants, to the idea that she is allowed to feel okay for a moment – and that yes, even in this climate, there are still reasons to feel okay. I’d want her to know that if she can sit with even one moment of goodness, she can sit with another. And another. That maybe she doesn’t have to choose the confusion, chaos, and endless puzzle of trying to earn love (which could just as easily be read as money, status, or freedom from back pain). That maybe she can trust, instead, that without doing a darn thing she is allowed to enjoy some goodness.

And I’d tell her to breathe that in. That this subtle art of tolerating goodness has a compounding effect. That this isn’t some woo-woo theory about peace, but a blueprint for enacting lasting change.

Because when we teach our nervous system to tolerate goodness, we teach it that we can be safe. And a person who feels safe in themselves—who is safe in themselves—becomes a gift to the world.

If my writing resonates with you and you’re looking for support, I’d be honored to work with you.

I am a licensed therapist in the states of New York and Colorado, offering virtual therapy sessions. I also provide coaching for clients in the US and abroad, helping people navigate difficult emotions, build resilience, and create meaningful connections.

If you'd like to explore what it means to show up fully in your life, reach out. You can book a FREE 30 minute consultation here.