Caught in the act of self-sabotage
Where I meet my own worst enemy
“You are one of the worst self-saboteurs I’ve ever met,” Diane said.
The Life Wizard’s reaction to my homework assignment surprised me. I wasn’t convinced writing letters to myself from the future had been worth the effort—I’d hoped to discover my purpose or at least get some tips about budgeting or health insurance—but self-sabotage?
My life coach got me
“It’s like there are two versions of you,” Diane said. “One is all action and accomplishment, getting all the praise, and the other is afraid to move forward and beating herself up all the time.”
Diane’s wizardly insight was on point once again.
When the Boston meetings had wrapped up last week, I immediately headed north. Driving home in the clear, cold dark would have been the perfect time to fantasize—the possibilities for my future were as limitless as stars in the sky. And, at the end of the drive, I would have arrived at the farmhouse I’d once dreamed of as a little girl in time for supper.
But no. I was overwhelmed as I click-clacked through the city parking garage, tossed my leather tote into the car, and changed from pumps into wool clogs for the drive. The mixed feelings of “too much” and “less than” washed over me—more often recently—whenever I visited my company’s hip downtown headquarters. The office environment bubbled with tension and ambition like an incoming tide froths on the beach.
Instead of visualizing my infinite future, I sought familiar commercial distractions. After an expensive stop at the outlet mall, I drove through McDonald’s, then chastised myself the rest of the drive home—with every mile and every French fry. If the words I’d used to beat myself up had been fists, they would have been bloodied.
“Which version of me is the saboteur?” I asked Diane, assuming the underlying question was, what’s holding me back from reaching some pinnacle of success?
“That action-oriented corporate version,” Diane said, surprising me again. “She needs control, so she keeps the other part of you in the corner so you don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Like quitting an established career?
“I wanted you to explore ideas and possibilities without the goal of accomplishment. Just brainstorm and daydream about the future, but you put so much pressure on yourself,” Diane said.
You think?
Nobody puts baby in the corner
Diane rendered the other version of me. “I see a tiny light cowering in a corner,” she said.
“Wait. I’m the tiny light?” I bristled instantly at the dim and sniveling portrayal.
Diane explained how my saboteur self had become overpowering. “You’ve put so much energy into creating a persona that revolves around work,” she said. “It feels impossible for your quieter side to break free.”
Sitting in my little home office under the eaves of a 19th-century farmhouse, I suddenly felt the shadow of this so-called saboteur breathing down my neck. If asked to sketch this persona, I would have drawn a silhouette wearing three-inch heels and a pencil skirt. Captioned it, “she buys things she doesn’t need to keep up with the trends and eats on the run because she is so. very. busy.”
The last entry of my future-me homework read like a gut punch. Nothing fits. Trying on twenty pairs of jeans at The Gap will not help. It wasn’t the fashion or fast food I regretted; it was the time lost trying to be this other version of me. The version I was eager—and terrified—to escape.
What might have been
What if I’d let the tiny light take the wheel, and we’d driven past the mall exit, taking in the stillness around us with only mountain shadows blocking the sky? What if I could have shed the protective corporate-me version as easily as my high heels?
What if all that striving and toughness wasn’t who I was meant to be, but rather—who I’d had to become?
Diane wasn’t accusing me of self-sabotage as much as she was rooting for my childlike self to emerge. She might have been on to something.
Catherine
Is there more than one version of you? This week’s prompts invite you to consider your saboteur. Is it the shadow or the light?
Begin with one of these phrases (or try both):
The shadow breathing down my neck …
I let the tiny light take the wheel …
Take a deep breath. And write your story.
Eloquent — and brave.