Dear Curious Reader: Why Do We Self-Sabotage?

It seems success does not always bring the peace one expects. In fact, for some, it brings something far more unsettling… the quiet belief that it still isn’t enough.

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Today someone said something to me that made me cry.

Not in a dramatic, something-is-wrong kind of way…
but in that weird way where your body reacts before your brain can catch up.

She said:
“It still floors me that you don’t feel good enough. You’re killing it.”

I smiled. And then I sat there thinking… wait.
Why did this make me cry?

If I’m being honest, I’ve noticed something about myself lately. The second I meet someone new or see someone I haven’t seen in a while, the word vomit starts. And it’s not just over-sharing, it’s self-deprecating. Like immediately jumping to “what I do is dumb,” “this is honestly so cringe,” “I don’t even know how I got here.” I go out of my way to explain how I don’t care or how bad I know I am before they can even think it, say it, or judge me.

So where is this coming from?

When you grow up with anxiety, with absolutely no tools to navigate it and no words to even describe what you’re feeling, the effects can be life altering. Then you add in another layer… religion. And not the good kind. The kind that makes you believe that fear, that constant feeling deep inside you that won’t go away, is something wrong with you. Something you just need to pray away.

So you pray. And you pray. And you pray. But the feeling doesn’t go away. So you start to wonder why. Why me? Why doesn’t God love me? Am I not worthy?

I think part of me decided really young that I just wasn’t lovable. The anxious kid. The overweight kid. The one who felt like she was too much and not enough all at the same time. And if God couldn’t even love me as I was, what did that say about me?

So you find ways to numb it. You look for anything that makes the feeling stop. Maybe it’s food. Maybe it’s external love. Maybe it’s something else entirely. At different points in my life, all of those have served their purpose. Or at least I thought they did, but they were really just adding to the chaos.

Until you find something that actually works.

For me, that was sports. And everything changed. Because for the first time, people showed up. People noticed. People were proud of me. Not because I was Paula, but because I was winning. So without even realizing it, I started to connect the two. If I do well, I’m loved. If I win, I’m enough.

With sports, you get first, you PR, you get the scholarship. It’s clear. It’s defined. It’s safe. You know when you’re doing well. You know when you’re enough.

But life doesn’t work like that.

And I think this is the part that followed me into adulthood… and eventually online. Not the sport itself, but the need to prove that I was enough—and the fear of what it would look like if I wasn’t.

You can’t win motherhood. You can’t PR being a wife. You can’t get first place in doing enough. There is always going to be someone doing more, doing it better, looking like they have it more together.

But without that scoreboard… how will people know to love you?

So your brain fills in the blank…
They probably won’t.

So you say it first. I know it’s dumb. I know it’s cringe. I know I’m not that good. Because at least then you’re in control of it.

I’m still working through this. Because there is no “best” in life. There is no gold medal for getting through the day, no scoreboard for being a good mom, no clear win that tells you that you did enough. Most days, it honestly feels like more of a loss than a win.

But that message… “you don’t feel good enough, you’re killing it”… it broke something open in me. Because both of those things felt true at the same time, and I don’t think I’ve ever let those two things exist together before.

So now I’m trying something different.

I’m trying to take care of her. The little girl who thought she wasn’t lovable. The one who thought she had to earn it, prove it, perform for it. The one who was told love was conditional.

Therapy has been a huge part of that.

And for the first time, I’m not trying to win. I’m trying to heal. I’m trying to show her that she was always enough.

Maybe this isn’t self-sabotage. Maybe it’s protection. Maybe it’s what happens when you grow up learning that love is something you have to earn, and then spend your life trying to prove that you did.

And maybe the real win isn’t being the best.

It’s becoming someone your younger self would finally feel safe being… and not caring what anyone else thinks about it.

Dear Curious Readers: how well do we truly know one another?

We are not simply who we present ourselves to be…We are the sum of every fear, voice, and expectation that came before. And so, dear reader… how well do we truly know one another?

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The first reel I ever shared online may have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Because no one judges you more than the people who claim to cheer you on the loudest.

And when you show your true self online, the side you’ve mostly hidden just to fit in, people will judge. Because let’s be honest, unless you’re a celebrity, or at least adjacent to one, everyone starts from nothing online.

And when you finally share something that comes from the heart, even if it’s something as simple as a silly video about your love of Disney, the people closest to you usually won’t get it.

Because up until that moment, your world has been limited by proximity.

And the second you take that first step online, that boundary is broken.

But before you can branch out, you have to wade through the side-eyes. The confusion. The quiet judgment from friends and family who don’t understand, and if we’re being honest, sometimes don’t want to.

If you find yourself there, just remember this.

They are living the life they chose, with boundaries that feel safe to them. And when someone steps outside of those boundaries, it disrupts that safety. It forces people to consider that maybe, just maybe, the world is bigger than they thought.

That people can be a little more quirky. A little more different.

And that’s not a bad thing.

So be prepared.

When you start showing up online, the people you are closest to, the people you see every day, may disappoint you.

And even if you try to hide it from them, they will find you.

But they may not follow you.

But you will also find others.

People who don’t look at you as something to be understood, but someone to be accepted. Someone to be loved exactly as you are.

But if I’m being really honest.

Some of those people will disappoint you too.

And even in a space filled with thousands of people who get it, you can still feel completely alone.

But before I dive deeper into that, I think it matters to go back.

Back to the beginning.

To understand how we ever got here in the first place.

Because none of this started online.

Looking back, there are three themes that feel like they shaped my childhood more than anything else.

The first was fear.

From a young age, fear played a major role in my life. And when you don’t have the tools to understand or process it, fear has a way of taking over. It fills in the blanks. It twists things. It makes you question what’s real and what’s not.

The second was weight.

And I mean that literally.

Growing up, my body was something that was talked about a lot. And if you were someone who grew up in the 90s-00s diet culture you will surely understand this too.

It wasn’t just comments here and there. It was being left out. It was the quiet understanding that I wasn’t quite enough as I was.

The constant messages, spoken and unspoken, that if I didn’t lose weight, I wouldn’t be good enough.

And when you hear that enough, it stops being something people say and starts becoming something you believe.

It shapes how you see yourself.
How you show up.
How much space you allow yourself to take up in the world.

And even when no one is saying it anymore, you still hear it.

The third was religion.

I grew up Nazarene, (think footloose without the cool dance scenes) which meant even thinking a bad thought could feel like it carried eternal damnation.

That kind of pressure doesn’t just shape your behavior.

It shapes how you think.
How you see yourself.
How you question everything.

And more importantly it confuses love and fear in a way that it hard to unravel.

Because no matter what you do, how much you pray, you still feel like you are failing and unworthy of love. So eventually you may start wondering…why even try????

I now understand what I experienced (and still experience) was a medical condition I needed treatment for, not a curse I needed prayed away, but again…another story for another time…we will get there i promise.

Now when you take those three things, fear, weight, and religion, and layer them together, you get me.

A very simplified version, of course.

There were other people, other moments, other experiences that shaped who I am. Sports being a huge one.

But these felt like the foundation. The most influential pieces of the story.

So when I say this is my content creation journey, I don’t just mean the internet.

I mean everything that led me to it. What I think draws a lot of people to it.

The search for connection.
For expression.
For a place where your voice finally feels like it belongs.

And then the gut punch reality that that voice always comes with a cost.

Which is why, when I received an invite to a content creator only cruise with Virgin Voyages and TikTok (if you need context this means an entire ship full of media, creators and influencers coming together to create content and share their experience), leaving next month, my first thought was excitement.

But then just as quickly, it turned into.

“No way I’m doing that.”

But the questions remain.

Why?

What happened to make me like this?

And…

Am I going?

I guess we will see…

Dear Curious Readers: being human is no simple task…

It is a truth seldom spoken, yet deeply felt, that being human is no simple task. And in this modern age, where one’s life may unfold before an unseen audience… it becomes even more complicated…

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When I first started posting, it felt freeing. Sharing my creativity and leaning into something I was passionate about became an escape from a life that, at the time, had started to feel… unrecognizable. Complicated. A little lost (we’ll come back to this).

This wasn’t something I planned. But in many ways, it became a gift, something I needed… just not in the way, or for the reasons, I thought. It is something I’m still grateful for… but also something that would challenge me in more ways than I expected.

I was quickly thrust into spaces and groups I instinctively knew I didn’t really belong in… but it felt good to be there. I was green. I was eager…maybe too eager. And after years of putting others first, chasing other people’s dreams for me, and just wanting to feel like the main character in my own story for once… it felt exciting.

But time has a way of revealing things.

And reality has a way of catching up with you when your head hits the pillow at night… no matter how fast you run or how high you try to climb.

Recently, after spending time in the place where so much of this journey began, I found myself reflecting on how far I’ve come… but also on the MANY stories behind how I got here.

Because as “influencers,” creators, or whatever label we’re given… we’re often asked to do the impossible:

Be authentic… but follow unspoken rules.
Be yourself… but be careful how much you share.
Support others… but watch who you align yourself with.

It’s a constant balancing act.

And the truth is… no one can be fully transparent online. Not really.

Because at the end of the day, we’re all tied to something… or someone. Myself included.

But this isn’t about anyone else. This is about my journey.

You may recognize some of the moments, the places… maybe even the stories. But what matters most is how I got here…and the lessons I’ve learned along the way.

Because I’m not innocent in all of this.
And facing those truths… is part of the story, too.

But the question remains…

Is this a phase brought on by my recent obsession with Bridgerton paired with my ADHD?
Or will writing my story continue to provide the outlet my soul has been seeking?

Honestly… time will tell.

But I have a feeling it won’t be quiet. 👀