Sabotage Vibes

The Illusion of Control: How Self-Sabotage Keeps Us Stuck

I’ve had to admit something to myself that’s been a long time coming: I have a tendency to self-sabotage. And not in an obviously dramatic, self-destructive way—but in those quiet, subtle patterns that fly just under the radar. 

The procrastination masked as “waiting for the right moment.” The avoidance dressed up as “giving it space.” The opportunities I talk myself out of because I’m “just being realistic.” If this resonates with you, you’re not alone.

Shout out to my therapist for helping me untangle the mess.

Self-sabotage is one of the most complex and paradoxical things we can do to ourselves. On the surface, it seems completely illogical—why would anyone purposely ruin their own chances at success, love, or happiness? But dig a little deeper, and the answer isn’t about logic. It’s about fear and control.

For many of us, self-sabotage becomes a warped form of self-protection. If we fail on our own terms, we still get to feel in control. If we ruin something before it can hurt us, at least we were the one holding the knife. 

There’s a strange comfort in being the architect of your own demise—it’s painful, sure, but it’s predictable. And predictability, for those of us who’ve known chaos or instability, can feel like safety.

This illusion of control can keep us stuck for years. We start telling ourselves stories like:

• “I wasn’t rejected—I just didn’t try.”
• “That job wasn’t right for me anyway.”
• “I’m not ready yet. Maybe later.”

But behind those stories is often a deeper belief: that we’re not good enough. That we’re bound to fail. That we don’t deserve the very things we want most. 

So instead of risking the heartbreak of trying and failing, we orchestrate a slow, quiet collapse and call it pragmatism.

Recognizing this pattern in myself has been one of the hardest—and most freeing—things I’ve ever done. It’s required brutal honesty, a lot of self-compassion, and, yes, therapy. 

I’ve had to ask myself uncomfortable questions: What am I afraid will happen if I actually succeed? Who will I become if I let go of the story that I’m not capable or worthy?

I’m still answering those questions. But here’s what I know so far: freedom doesn’t come from control. It comes from trust—trusting yourself to handle success and failure, trusting that you are resilient, and worthy, and evolving. Even when it’s scary. Especially then.

So if you’ve noticed this pattern in yourself too, don’t shame it—get curious about it. What are you protecting yourself from? What stories have you outgrown?

You deserve a life that isn’t ruled by fear disguised as control. You deserve to try, and maybe even to win.

And I’m right there with you, doing the work.

To the life you deserve,
LC