Self-sabotage

Why are you hitting yourself?

Hello friends! This is Peregrino, a newsletter about the journey. You’re about to read essay #36 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife in Q1 2024. The previous 35 essays in this series can be found here.

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So while you sit back and wonder why I got this f****ing thorn in my side.

Oh my God, it's a mirage I'm tellin' y'all, it's a sabotage.

-​​Beastie Boys

I am my worst enemy. It would be easier to blame others, my environment, or my upbringing, but all of this would be useless. Once I became an adult, it was clear that one of my biggest struggles in life would be fighting the part of me that wants to sabotage the part that wants to break free and become what I should become. The clearest example of my battle against self-sabotage is my relationship with food. I know I’m an emotional eater, and it has been something I’ve struggled with my whole life.

The first time I associated being bigger with something negative was when one of my aunts gasped when I told her I used size 30 pants at the tender age of 12. That’s the last time I’ve been that waist size. When I was 15, I wanted girls to like me. I knew that my personality would only take me so far, so I started playing basketball at the park every night, working out to my VHS tape of MTV’s The Grind Workout “Strength and Fitness,” and taking diet pills–I’m pretty sure I was micro-dosing on amphetamines.

Photocopies of different diets wallpapered our fridge. My favorite was the Miami Heart Institute Diet, which allowed for a cup of ice cream after dinner and promised a 10-pound loss if you followed this restrictive diet for three days and ate “a regular diet” the rest of the week, whatever that is.

In college, I was even more interested in girls liking me, so I became obsessed with losing weight. I was like DJ Tanner in that episode of Full House, where they weave eating disorders into the story. I was doing so much cardio; I would be on the treadmill in the morning and swim for an hour every afternoon. I would also try to eat as healthy as I could in a college cafeteria but then drink and smoke during the weekends.

But the few times I got close to my goal weight, I would stop working out and return to eating whatever was before me. It wasn’t until I got to 370 pounds that I had to do something radical that forced a lifestyle change, and that was gastric sleeve surgery in 2010.

Cut to the present day. My weight has been around the 300-pound mark for the last ten years, going up or down fifteen pounds depending on the time of year. The ups and downs are not as dramatic as when I was younger, and these changes don’t break me emotionally as they used to. And I believe that working on emotional health has been as advantageous as working out and eating healthy. Let me elaborate.

The Long Game

Most men would agree with me that we’re mission-oriented. I want to lose ten pounds. I want to look good in a suit for my sister's wedding. I desire to get a better-paying job. These are some of the goals I have set for myself. Once I set a goal, I pick a due date and start hacking at it. When the mission is complete and the goal achieved, there is no motivation to continue doing what you were doing to accomplish the goal. Then what do you do? Rinse and repeat?

I could do that, or I could change the paradigm. I know I want to be around long enough to, God willing, see my grandchildren. That means I need to start figuring out what the next four decades of my life will look like. I want a certain quality of life; I want to drive, move without requiring assistance, and be strong enough to lift a baby from the floor or out of a crib.

There are things I can do today to help me reach those goals in the future. Call it playing the long game. This framework applies to all areas of my life, not just physical health.

Thinking about the big picture has helped me make better choices and not sweat the little things, like when I indulge in Cadbury chocolate bars. I could throw my arms and give up trying to curb my sugar addiction intake, but instead, I begin again. As Covey said, always begin with the end in mind.

Progression & Regression

Now that I don’t timebox my goals, I can focus on getting closer to them. Every choice makes a difference, and I try to daisy chain as many small decisions as I can. There will be setbacks, but I can decide to whine about it or begin again the next day.

In my mind, I can be disciplined enough to get healthier. I have done it before, and I can do it again. The circumstances are different, and the stakes have been raised, but I can still fight for what I know is a noble cause, namely, seeing my kids turn into adults and enjoying retirement with Diana.

Change is hard, and sometimes it can be scary; there’s comfort in the familiar. It’s almost as if I’m killing current me so that the best version of myself can come out and take its place. As the good book says, put off the old man.

I will need to work to make things happen. My choices will determine if I get there or not. In other words, if I’m not progressing, I’m regressing; there’s no staying the same. With that in mind, there is one last thing to consider.

Own It

The only one responsible for the outcomes of my life is me. Not in an individualistic “I’m the most important person” way, but rather in a “put your oxygen mask first before helping others” way. Until my late twenties, I always had some exogenous force pushing me toward change. It wasn’t until I moved to Phoenix that I started living as a full-fledged adult, not having the safety net of my parents, that it hit me: I needed to learn to put on the oxygen mask by myself.

Suddenly, I ran out of excuses. I was the king of my castle and could do as I pleased. No more expiatory goats or blaming “the environment.” It was time to wrestle my demons and figure out a thing or two. Being alone with these thoughts was uncomfortable but very profitable once I decided to act on fixing what was broken.

I don’t know how many hours of therapy I’ve been to, but I can tell you that it has helped. In the last ten years, I have spent at least 500 hours in front of the Blessed Sacrament, which has benefited me the most. I know I just said I’m the only one responsible, but I know I have a creator who willed me into existence, and he wants what’s best for me.

Most weeks, I ask him: what do you want me to do? Little by little, he has guided me, shedding enough light to advance, maybe even allowing setbacks so I can return to him and trust him more.

I’m called to be faithful, not successful (by worldly standards). I know God’s voice brings peace in knowing I’m his son and he loves me. And he wants me to become the best version of myself, so I'm working toward that goal.

I'm looking forward to the next four decades of my life, and this is what's driving my desire to eradicate self-sabotage. I tolerated it when I was younger, but not anymore.

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Before you go

1. Have you struggled with self-sabotaging?

2. If you said yes, what have you done to combat it?

3. What’s your favorite Beastie Boys song?