5 habits that are sabotaging your happiness

When we stop fighting our patterns and start understanding them, we realize nothing is wrong with us.

Breaking Free from Self-Sabotage: Understanding the Patterns That Keep Us Stuck

We've all been there—caught in a loop of behaviors we know aren't serving us, yet somehow can't seem to shake. Licensed therapist and content creator Kati Morton explores this puzzle in her book Why Do I Keep Doing This?, offering fresh perspectives on why we repeat patterns that hold us back.

The Protective Shell We Build

Think about the last time you micromanaged a project or overanalyzed a decision. What if that impulse wasn't a character flaw, but rather a protective response your nervous system developed long ago?

Morton explains that control often originates as a childhood survival strategy. When life felt unpredictable, many of us discovered that being perfect, quiet, or exceptionally good helped us feel safer or more loved. These patterns became our invisible armor—and as adults, we still reach for them when uncertainty creeps in.

The key insight? There's nothing fundamentally wrong with us. We're simply using outdated tools that once helped us navigate difficult situations. By getting curious about what our controlling behaviors are trying to protect us from, we open the door to genuine change.

When Kindness Becomes a Mask

Here's an uncomfortable truth: people-pleasing often masquerades as generosity, but it's frequently rooted in fear—fear of rejection, conflict, or abandonment.

Morton shares a pivotal moment from her own therapy when her therapist reframed people-pleasing as "a form of manipulation." While initially shocking, this perspective revealed an important distinction: saying yes to manage your own anxiety is fundamentally different from saying yes out of genuine care.

The exhaustion and resentment that often accompany people-pleasing emerge because we're living for external validation rather than internal truth. The antidote isn't becoming selfish—it's pausing before each "yes" to ask whether it comes from authentic desire or fear.

The Impossible Chase for Flawless

Perfectionism promises that if we just get everything right, we'll finally earn the love, attention, or security we crave. But it's a target that keeps moving, leaving us perpetually dissatisfied.

Morton recalls believing as a child that perfect achievements might bring her father home more often—a poignant example of how we confuse our worth with our performance. The relief each accomplishment brings is fleeting because perfectionism isn't actually about success; it's about avoiding criticism and rejection.

The shift that creates freedom? Moving from "Was it perfect?" to "Did I feel connected?" Growth happens through showing up, trying, failing, and learning—not through flawless execution.

The Weight of Unfelt Feelings

Many of us learned that staying composed and "fine" was maturity. But suppressing emotions isn't strength—it's abandoning ourselves.

Pushed-down feelings don't vanish; they accumulate in our bodies and emerge as anxiety, irritability, or burnout. Morton describes finding herself sobbing at a commercial about an aging dog—not because the ad was particularly moving, but because it finally opened the valve on all the unfelt emotions she'd been carrying.

A simple practice can help: naming your emotions out loud. "I feel sad." "I feel frustrated." This act of naming helps regulate your nervous system and builds trust in your ability to handle difficult feelings.

From Gripping to Trusting

Perhaps the hardest shift is learning to let go—not because we don't care, but because we're redefining what safety means.

Morton distinguishes between control that grounds us (like setting healthy boundaries) and control that imprisons us (like refusing to try new things or let people in). Letting go doesn't mean becoming careless; it means trusting that we can handle life as it unfolds without needing to manage every detail.

This shift from control to trust, Morton notes, has been one of the most liberating lessons of her life. Real freedom isn't about having everything under control—it's about no longer needing to.

The patterns we repeat aren't signs of weakness or failure. They're evidence that we learned to survive. The question isn't "What's wrong with me?" but rather "What was I trying to protect myself from?" When we approach ourselves with that kind of curiosity and compassion, change becomes possible—not through willpower, but through understanding.