Carl Jung was a Swiss psychiatrist and psychologist who believed that most of
our suffering doesn’t come from what happens to us… but from what lies hidden within us.
One of Jung’s most powerful insights was this:
We often sabotage the very things we long for. Love. Intimacy. Peace. Success.
When something meaningful enters our lives, instead of embracing it,
we ghost. We pick fights. We shut down. But why do we destroy what we care about most?
Maybe because deep down, we don’t believe we deserve it.
Or maybe because a part of us is terrified that it won’t last.
Or maybe — and this is the hardest to face — something beautiful touches a part of us we’ve
worked so hard to bury… and that’s unbearable. So we push it away before it can leave us.
Jung believed these patterns aren’t random. They come from deep inner wounds — parts of ourselves
we’ve rejected, hidden, or never even looked at. And our pain doesn’t vanish when we ignore it.
It just finds another way to express itself — in self-sabotage, anxiety, depression,
or broken relationships. We start to tell ourselves,
“I’m just unlucky in love.” But maybe the truth is that
something inside us is quietly afraid of love. We say, “I just can’t seem to find peace.”
But maybe peace would force us to sit with feelings we’ve spent years running from.
Jung believed that healing begins when we stop blaming
the world outside and start turning inward. It’s not an easy journey. Indeed it means
facing the parts of ourselves we’ve exiled. But it’s the only way to stop the cycle of
destroying what we love — and start learning how to hold it.
So in this video, we’ll answer the question “Why do we destroy everything
we love?” and more importantly, “How can we stop?” using the wisdom of Carl Jung.
1. Recognize the Pattern Without Judgment Jung once said, “Until you make the
unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”
This quote points to a deeply uncomfortable truth: many of the things we believe are happening to
us are actually patterns we are unknowingly repeating. And often, those patterns lead us
to destroy the very things we care about. Think about this for a moment. Have you
ever pushed away someone who truly cared for you, only to regret it later? Or sabotaged a
project just as it began to succeed? Maybe you chalked it up to “bad luck” or “bad timing.”
But what if these aren’t coincidences — what if they’re unconscious habits buried so deep,
that you’ve stopped noticing them altogether? Jung believed these patterns arise from the
unconscious. He divided the human psyche into two realms: the conscious mind — our thoughts,
choices, and identity — and the unconscious mind, where hidden forces shape our behavior.
At the surface of consciousness is the ego — our sense of “I,” the identity we know ourselves by:
“I’m honest,” “I’m independent,” “I’m a hard worker.” But just behind the ego lies
the persona — the social mask we wear to fit in. For example, someone might see themselves
as kind and authentic — but at work, they play the role of the high-performing perfectionist,
always smiling, never showing weakness, because that’s what’s expected.
The things we hide behind that mask — our fears, insecurities,
and desires — don’t vanish. They just get pushed down, waiting to surface in unexpected ways.
This is where we enter deeper waters. Behind the persona lies the unconscious — a hidden
reservoir of repressed emotions, forgotten memories, unmet needs,
and unspoken longings. It’s like an old house with locked rooms we’ve forgotten
how to enter — but the creaks and whispers still echo through the halls of our daily lives. Often
formed early in life through trauma, shame, or neglect, these buried forces shape how we react,
what we choose, and who we’re drawn to — usually without us realizing it.
That’s why the first step in Jungian healing is deceptively simple: Notice the pattern but
without judging yourself for it. Now this last part is crucial. Most people spiral into guilt:
“I ruin everything,” or “I’m broken.” But that only strengthens the very pattern you’re
trying to break. Instead, Jung invites us to observe ourselves like a curious, compassionate
detective. Watch what you do when life gets real — when love gets close, when success is near,
or when someone truly sees you. Ask: What do I tend to do in those moments?
Do I withdraw? Get angry? Go numb?
What do I feel just before that? Fear? Shame? A sense that I don’t deserve it?
For instance, someone who picks fights every time a relationship deepens may not be unlucky
in love — they may be terrified of being truly known. So they sabotage the connection before
the other person can hurt them. The key is: that this isn’t deliberate. It’s not a weakness. It’s
unconscious. That’s why it needs awareness — not blame. A helpful practice is journaling.
Write down moments where you felt triggered or acted against your own best interest and don’t
rush to fix it. Just notice. Ask: What was I protecting myself from?
What part of me felt threatened?
What story did I tell myself?
You may discover that many patterns trace back to old wounds: fear of abandonment,
not being enough, or being hurt again. And here’s the beauty:
the moment you see the pattern clearly — and without judgment — it
begins to lose its grip. You interrupt the autopilot. You start choosing consciously.
Jung urges us to see ourselves not as broken, but as people who’ve been trying to protect ourselves
in outdated ways. When we stop blaming and start watching — the real work of transformation begins.
In short: before you can change a pattern, you must first recognize it. But do it with kindness.
Not everything broken needs to be punished. Some parts of you just want to be understood.
2. Meet Your Shadow In the words of Jung “Everyone carries a shadow,
and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life,
the blacker and denser it is ”.
Jung called it “the shadow”: the part of you that holds everything you’ve disowned — the
anger you weren’t allowed to feel, the desires you were told were shameful, the needs you learned
to hide to be loved. This shadow doesn’t vanish just because you ignore it. It gets
buried deep in your unconscious — but it still drives your behavior. To understand it better,
Jung broke the unconscious into two layers: the personal unconscious and the collective
unconscious. The personal unconscious holds your repressed memories, emotions, and experiences —
things you once felt but couldn’t safely express. The collective unconscious, on the other hand,
is a deeper, universal layer we all share as human beings. It’s filled with timeless symbols and
instincts — archetypes like the Anima, Animus, Hero, Mother, or Trickster — that shape how we
see the world, even if we’re not aware of it. The shadow belongs to your personal unconscious.
It’s made of everything your conscious mind has rejected. And unless you bring it into awareness,
it continues to shape your life from behind the scenes. It doesn’t matter how kind, talented,
or spiritual you are. Everyone has a shadow. And the more you try to suppress it, the more power
it gains over your life. That’s why the second step is this: after recognizing the pattern,
you must look inside it. What are you really running from? What uncomfortable emotion,
memory, or truth are you pushing underground? Let’s say you constantly sabotage relationships.
Maybe the pattern isn’t just fear of being hurt. Maybe, deep down, a part of you feels
unworthy of love. And that part — that aching belief — is the shadow. Not because it's evil,
but because it lives in darkness. It hasn’t been seen, accepted, or healed.
Maybe when you were younger, you were only praised when you achieved something — got good grades,
acted “mature,” or didn’t cause trouble. Over time, you learned that love had to be earned.
That simply being yourself wasn’t enough. So you buried the parts of you that felt needy,
messy, or insecure. You became the high achiever, the caretaker, the one who had it all together.
But now, in adult relationships, when someone offers you genuine love — not for what you do,
but for who you are — it feels unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. Unsafe. You might unconsciously
test them, push them away, or end things before they get too real. Not because you
don’t want love — but because a younger part of you still believes you don’t deserve it.
Jung believed the shadow isn’t just where our “bad” traits go — it’s also where our
unlived potential hides. Passion you denied. Confidence you suppressed. Truths you swallowed
to be accepted. When we bury those things, we don’t become better — we become split. One part
of us tries to do life “the right way,” while the other part, the shadow, acts out in secret.
And that’s when the sabotage happens. Affairs, addictions, emotional explosions, ghosting — not
because someone is evil, but because something in them is aching to be seen. So what do you do?
You begin to meet your shadow — not with violence, but with honesty.
Start with just a few gentle questions: What am I most afraid people would see in me?
What parts of me did I learn were “unacceptable” growing up?
When do I become reactive, overly sensitive, or avoidant — and what’s the fear underlying that?
What traits in others really get under my skin — and could they actually be parts of
myself that I’m avoiding? Jung called this projection: when we see something
in someone else and react strongly because it’s something we don’t want to face inside.
Now write your answers down and just sit with them. No need to fix anything yet. This is
not self-improvement — this is self-intimacy. Sometimes, just admitting “I’m jealous,” “I’m
lonely,” or “I’m still angry about that thing from years ago” opens the door. The moment you bring
the shadow to light, it softens. Because shadows are scary only in the dark. When you name them,
they stop controlling you. This step isn’t about trying to be perfect or forcing yourself
to change. It’s about accepting all parts of yourself. You can’t heal what you ignore. And
if you don’t heal it, it can hurt others or yourself. So the shadow isn’t your enemy — it
wants to be understood and accepted. If you face it with courage, you’ll stop being afraid of who
you really are. You’ll stop destroying what you love — and start protecting it instead.
3. Befriend your Inner Saboteur
In the words of Jung “Active imagination is a way of entering the unconscious and engaging
with its images and symbols — it’s like having a dialogue with your inner world”.
By now, you’ve recognised the pattern. You’ve met the shadow. But even after doing that inner work,
you may still find yourself repeating the same destructive behaviors. Why?
Because understanding alone isn’t enough. Jung believed that true transformation happens
when we form a relationship with the parts of ourselves we used to reject. This includes the
part that ruins things. The part that lashes out, pulls away, shuts down, or sabotages the good.
He called this process active imagination—a technique that allows the conscious mind to
speak directly with the unconscious. Think of it like sitting down with the saboteur inside you—not
to silence it, but to hear it out. Now this might sound strange, but it’s powerful. Try this the
next time you feel yourself pulling away from something you care about—whether it’s a person,
a dream, or a moment of peace: Pause. Close your eyes, and ask yourself inwardly:
“What are you trying to protect me from?” “What are you afraid will happen
if I fully embrace this?”and “What do you need me to hear right now?”
Then listen. You might be surprised by what
comes up. Maybe that part of you is still stuck in a memory where love ended in betrayal. Maybe
it believes success will isolate you. Maybe it’s terrified that if you’re truly seen, you’ll be
rejected. It’s not trying to hurt you—it’s trying to guard an old wound the only way it knows how.
Jung taught that these inner figures—the saboteur, the critic, the wounded child—are autonomous
fragments of the psyche. They’re not logical. They’re emotional. And until you dialogue with
them, they’ll keep working in the background, trying to “protect” you by destroying what feels
dangerous—even if it’s love or joy. That’s why this step is not about suppression. It’s about
conversation. You can even write a dialogue in your journal. One side of the page is you,
the other is the saboteur. Let it speak. Let it rant, cry, plead, accuse—whatever it needs to do,
then respond from your higher self: the part of you that wants healing, wholeness, and growth.
This might feel awkward at first, but over time, the inner war softens. The saboteur becomes less
reactive because it feels heard. And once it's heard, it no longer needs to act out. Remember:
what you resist inside yourself only grows stronger. But what you meet with presence
begins to transform. So instead of asking “How do I stop ruining the things I love?” Start asking,
“What is the frightened part of me trying to say?” Because when you listen to that part—not with
fear, but with compassion—you gain influence over it. You create space. You begin to respond, rather
than react. And is how the healing begins—not by silencing the saboteur, but by befriending it.
4. Embrace your Anima or Animus According to Jung “Every man carries
within him the eternal image of woman… this image is fundamentally unconscious,
a hereditary factor of primordial origin.” Carl Jung believed that inside every man lives
a hidden woman — the anima — and inside every woman lives a hidden man — the animus. Now,
this wasn’t a belief around gender or biology, but around energy. The anima is your emotional depth,
your intuition, your ability to surrender and feel. The animus is your inner strength,
your reason, your drive to act and define. Together, they form the full spectrum of what
it means to be human. Jung saw the anima and animus as powerful archetypes within
the collective unconscious — the deep, inherited layer of the psyche that holds
universal patterns we all share as humans. And because they often remain unconscious,
they shape how we see and relate to the opposite sex, especially in romantic relationships.
The problem is, most people only live half their psyche. Men are raised to toughen up and suppress
their softness. Women are conditioned to downplay their assertiveness or reason. And so these inner
opposites — like the shadow — remain buried in the unconscious, instead of being integrated. So what
happens to these parts of us we bury? Well, often we start searching for them in others.
This is why so many of us fall in love with people who seem to complete us.
A man might be captivated by a deeply emotional woman — not because she’s magical, but because
she reflects his own suppressed sensitivity. A woman might be drawn to a confident, assertive
man — not realizing she’s projecting her own untapped power onto him. And then, expectations
build. We unconsciously ask the other person to carry what we haven’t developed in ourselves.
This is where relationships often get distorted. You don’t just love the person — you need them.
You rely on them to help you feel whole. And when they fail to meet that role — because,
inevitably, no one can play someone else’s soul — you feel disappointed, even betrayed.
Some men might accuse their partner of being “too emotional,” not realizing he’s rejecting
the anima he was initially drawn to. Some women might call their partner “too cold,”
not realizing she’s disowning her own animus that longs for strength and independence. What
was once enchanting becomes unbearable — not because the other person changed,
but because your own projection broke. This is why Jung said: “The meeting of
two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction,
both are transformed.” But transformation only happens when both people are willing to stop
projecting and start integrating. So how do you do this?
Start by noticing what you’re drawn to in others. Do you find yourself always seeking emotional
validation from someone else? Do you depend on their strength to make you feel secure? Or
maybe you idealize someone for being free, wild, and expressive — qualities you’ve never allowed
yourself to embody. Instead of clinging to these traits in others, try to grow them in yourself.
If you’re overly logical, practice feeling without analyzing. If you tend to be passive,
practice standing firm. If you keep searching for affection, try offering it to yourself. As
a daily practice, ask yourself: What do I admire in others that
I haven't developed in myself? When do I idealize someone instead
of understanding them as a real person? And Is the discomfort I feel in this relationship
pointing me to a part of myself I’ve neglected? The goal isn’t to become emotionless or
hyper-independent. The goal is to balance — to stop needing someone else to fill the gaps in
your psyche. When you do that, your relationships change. You stop clinging. You stop resenting and
you begin relating as a whole person, not a half looking for its missing piece. Because
real love — the kind that’s grounded and deep — only begins when you stop outsourcing your soul.
5. Integrate Through Conscious Action In our final quote from Carl Jung for
this video, he said “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light,
but by making the darkness conscious.” Jung believed that the goal of life isn’t
to become perfect — it’s to become whole. This process, which he called individuation,
is about reclaiming all the parts of yourself you’ve hidden, rejected, or buried. And it doesn’t
happen by standing in front of a mirror reciting a mantra, imagining a better version of yourself.
It happens in the small, hard choices you make every day — especially when you’re triggered.
And no, it’s not a one-time breakthrough. It’s a daily practice. Individuation unfolds slowly,
like a lifelong conversation with yourself. You meet yourself through journaling, dreams, therapy,
long walks, and honest conversations. These are the moments when you turn your attention inward,
not to judge or fix, but to understand. When you notice you’re triggered — maybe
a sudden surge of anger, jealousy, or defensiveness — instead of blaming
others or running away, you pause and ask yourself: What part of me is hurting?
What is this feeling trying to tell me? This pause is crucial. It turns reactive
suffering into conscious learning. For example: Anger might be a sign that a boundary has been
crossed, or that you’re feeling powerless in a situation where you want to be seen and respected.
Jealousy often reveals a deep yearning for connection or recognition — a part of
you that fears being left out or not being enough.
Fear or shame might be tied to past wounds where you felt abandoned or rejected.
Integration means welcoming these parts instead of fighting or denying them. Instead of labeling
anger as “bad,” you explore what it protects — maybe your dignity or your desire for fairness.
Instead of shaming jealousy, you see it as a messenger of unmet needs or insecurities.
This doesn’t mean giving these feelings free reign or justifying harmful behavior. But it does
mean sitting with them honestly, learning their language, and gently guiding them toward healthier
expression. When anger is integrated, it might become assertiveness. When jealousy is integrated,
it might become a motivation to build deeper trust or work on self-worth. Slowly, with this
daily practice of awareness, you start to respond differently. You stop automatically shutting down
or sabotaging your relationships or your goals. You learn to stay present with discomfort rather
than escaping it. You learn that every shadow part is a doorway to a deeper truth about yourself.
Real growth begins the moment you catch yourself about to repeat the same old
pattern — and make a different choice. That is integration. It’s not a breakthrough moment;
it’s a daily decision. Most people think healing is a feeling — that one day they’ll just “feel
better.” But the truth is less romantic. Healing is action. It’s how you respond when someone gets
too close and your instinct is to sabotage. It’s pausing, breathing, and asking: Is this real,
or is this an old wound being triggered? These moments are sacred. They’re where the shadow — all
the parts of you you’ve rejected — begins to soften, not by force, but by being welcomed.
You don’t “fix” your shadow. You sit with it and learn to listen. And slowly, you stop destroying
what you love because you’re no longer at war with yourself. The more you practice conscious action,
the more you integrate your inner world. And the more whole you become, the less you need
to push away peace, love, intimacy or success. So when things feel too real, too intimate,
or too triggering — pause. Ask yourself: Am I reacting to this moment, or to an old memory?
What would it look like to respond with presence instead of defense?
What small act reflects who I’m becoming — and not who I’ve been?
This is the work. Not becoming perfect — but becoming real.
Whole. Integrated. One choice at a time. This is how you stop sabotaging everything
you love. This is how you break the pattern. By choosing awareness over fear,
presence over defense, and conscious action over automatic reaction — you
reclaim your power to change your life, moment by moment.
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