Why I Sabotage My Own Joy

Self & Identity series

I notice it a lot—the way I trip myself up when happiness shows up. How I’ll find a reason to doubt it, to question it, to pull it away before it even gets comfortable. I let little fears creep in: you don’t deserve this, this won’t last, what if it’s too much?

It’s like my joy is a fragile thing, and I’ve been conditioned to believe it needs protection—so I protect it by destroying it. I push away the moments, the people, the opportunities that could make me feel alive because somewhere deep down, I think I’m safer in caution than in celebration.

Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s a leftover voice from the girl who learned to shrink, to hide, to apologize, to survive without claiming too much. But the cost is heavy. Every time I sabotage my joy, I’m telling myself: you are not allowed to feel fully. You are not enough.

I want to stop that. I want to learn that my joy is not fragile. That it’s not dangerous. That it’s mine to claim without hesitation, without guilt, without self-sabotage. That maybe, just maybe, I am allowed to be happy—and to stay happy—without explaining it, without fearing it, without holding back.