I stopped trying to “fix myself” and started observing myself instead

For a long time, I lived in a constant mindset of trying to fix myself.

Fix my habits. Fix my reactions. Fix my discipline. Fix my emotions. Fix the way I showed up in relationships. Fix my body.

And if I couldn’t fix something, I blamed myself.

Hard.

I genuinely believed that being “better” meant being perfectly consistent. That if I planned something, I should be able to follow it exactly. No exceptions. No slip-ups. No bad days.

But life doesn’t work like that, and neither do people. I just hadn’t accepted that yet.

Instead, I set myself up to fail without realising it. If I didn’t stick to my calorie deficit, for example, I wouldn’t pause and try to understand what had happened. I would immediately go into self-criticism. I’d feel guilty, disappointed, frustrated with myself. And then it would spiral.

“If I’ve already messed up today, what’s the point?”

That one thought could turn a small slip into a whole week of unhealthy patterns, not just with food but with my mood, my energy, and my self-talk.

The same thing happened in my relationships. If I got triggered in an argument, I’d react quickly, say things I didn’t fully mean, and then later criticise myself for how I handled it. Sometimes that frustration would even spill onto my partner, which created even more tension. It wasn’t that I didn’t care—it’s that I didn’t know how to pause.

At the time, I thought discipline meant control. I thought being strong meant pushing through everything without interruption. But what I actually lacked was space. Space to understand what was happening inside me before reacting to it.

That shift didn’t happen overnight. Therapy and counselling were a big part of it. They helped me see something I had never really stopped to consider before: I don’t need to immediately fix myself. I need to understand myself first.

So instead of asking, “Why am I like this again?” or “What’s wrong with me?” I started asking different questions. What triggered that reaction? What am I actually feeling underneath this behaviour? When do I usually respond like this? What is the pattern?

Slowly, I started seeing the connection between emotion and behaviour. I act this way because I feel this way. Not because I’m broken, but because there is always something underneath the surface that needs attention, not punishment.

That’s when things started to shift—from fixing to observing.

Observing myself doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about change. It means I’ve stopped attacking myself in the process of trying to grow.

Now, when I feel triggered—whether it’s around food, stress, or conflict—I try to pause. Sometimes I step away from a conversation. Sometimes I go for a walk. Sometimes I simply say, “I can’t talk about this right now, I need a moment.” That small boundary alone has changed a lot more than I expected.

Instead of reacting immediately and regretting it later, I’ve started giving myself space to respond differently. Not perfectly. Just differently.

In those moments, I also go back to my values. Kindness. Peace. Being helpful. Adventure. Nature. Family. Friendship. I ask myself whether how I’m showing up is aligned with who I actually want to be, not just who I am in that emotional moment.

That question has grounded me more than anything else.

I won’t pretend I’ve got this figured out. I still fall back into old patterns sometimes. I still have days where I overthink, react too quickly, or slip into negative self-talk. But the difference now is I don’t stay there as long. I can see it happening sooner. And even noticing it is progress.

One of the biggest changes has been my internal dialogue. It used to be harsh and immediate: “You’re failing again.” Now it’s more curious: “This is a pattern. What’s underneath it?”

And over time, that shift has softened everything—my relationship with myself, with my partner, with discipline, even with setbacks.

Because I used to think change meant becoming a completely different person. Now I see it more as learning to notice yourself sooner, so you’re not fully taken over by old patterns.

You don’t eliminate them. You interrupt them.

And slowly, you stop letting them run your life.

If you’re stuck in that cycle of constantly trying to fix yourself, I understand it. I really do. But what I’ve learned is that you don’t grow through punishment. You grow through awareness.

And awareness takes repetition. It takes patience. It takes catching yourself again and again and choosing not to spiral.

But every time you pause instead of punish yourself, something changes. Even if it’s small. Even if it doesn’t feel dramatic.

Because progress isn’t perfection.

It’s awareness, repeated.