Sabotage Season: Starring Me, Myself, and I…

Have you ever set a big, beautiful, audacious goal—something that made your present self sit up straighter and your future self beam with pride—only to have some dusty, outdated version of you sneak in the back door of your psyche like, “Haha, cute. But we don’t do things like that, remember?”

That, my friend, is self-sabotage. And I don’t mean the funny kind, like when you eat half the cookie dough before it makes it to the oven. I mean the sneaky, soul-tripping, hope-popping kind that shows up wearing your old insecurities like they’re vintage couture.

It usually starts off quiet. You declare your goal. Something noble. Something brave. Maybe you’re finally going to start that business, run that marathon, write that book, leave that toxic relationship, say no for once instead of yes with resentment frosting. You mean it. You’re ready. You’ve bought the good planner and the highlighters. You’ve listened to a motivational podcast. You’ve told two trustworthy people and one ex just to stir the energy.

And then suddenly… you’re scrolling Instagram for two hours instead of working on your dream. Or you’re canceling the gym again. Or you’re picking a fight with someone you love because you’re not ready to admit you’re scared out of your damn mind that this might actually work.

Here’s the truth no one likes to say out loud: Sometimes, the most dangerous person in the room is the version of you that still thinks you’re unworthy.

That version doesn’t want your life to change—not because it’s evil, but because it was built in survival mode. It came from a time when you were just trying to get through. Maybe you were the kid who stayed small to stay safe. Maybe you were the teen who didn’t dream too big because failure felt like rejection. Maybe you were the adult who dimmed your shine to keep the peace or stayed in rooms where you were barely tolerated because it felt familiar.

That version of you has one job: to keep things predictable. And goals? Big, bold, soul-shifting goals? They’re not predictable. They’re terrifying. They require you to become someone new, to risk being seen, to risk being wrong. And so sabotage shows up with an invisibility cloak and a friendly tone. It sounds like “Maybe next year.” It sounds like “Who do you think you are?” It sounds like “You’re not disciplined enough” or “Remember that time you failed before?” or my personal favorite, “Let’s clean the kitchen first.”

But here’s the kicker: your present-day self wants this. That quiet, grounded voice inside you—the one who’s survived some real nonsense and still dreams anyway—that self is rooting for you. That self sees the mountain, knows the climb will suck, and still laces up the boots.

So what do we do when the ghosts of unworthiness whisper doubt into our dreams?

We call them out.

We say, “Thank you for your concern, 2013 Me. I know you were just trying to protect us back then. But we’ve grown. We’ve healed. We’re doing things differently now.”

We stop romanticizing rock bottom like it’s some rite of passage and start romanticizing the version of us who gets up, again and again, even when no one’s watching. We stop calling it “just being realistic” when what we really mean is “I’m afraid to hope.”

Because here’s the sacred truth, tucked behind all that noise: You are not who you were. You’re the one who chose to try again. You’re the one who kept showing up, even when the past version of you screamed, “You’re not ready!” And maybe you weren’t. But you showed up anyway. That’s the work. That’s the climb. That’s the win.

Self-sabotage is just fear dressed in your old clothes. And baby, they don’t fit anymore.

So next time you catch yourself hesitating before that brave next step, pause. Ask who’s speaking. If it’s the past, thank her for getting you here. But don’t let her drive.

You’ve got places to go. Mountains to summit. And that goal you set? It wasn’t a pipe dream. It was a prophecy. And your present-day self is the one with the map, the grit, and the gumption to get you there

Now go. And if you hear whispers of doubt behind you?

Just smile. And keep walking.