"I don't trust myself."
One of the most common limiting beliefs I see among the men who come to me for help. Sometimes this is a literal spoken sentence, and other times it's a clear message based on behavior.
Either way, it's rooted in shame and resignation, like it's an indictment of their character. Like they're fundamentally broken.
More evidence to support their "damaged goods" identity.
Last week, a client sat across from me on Zoom, his face tight with frustration. "Dallas, I've been substance-free for two months, but I still don't trust myself. I'm terrified I'm going to fuck this up again. How can I move forward when I can't even trust my own decisions?"
I leaned forward. "What if I told you that you're asking the wrong question?"
He looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"When you say 'I don't trust myself,' you're treating yourself as a monolith—one unified entity that's either trustworthy or not.
Black or white. All or nothing. This is the thinking of someone with addictive patterns.
But that's not how your psyche actually works."
The real question isn't "Can I trust myself?"
It's "Which parts of me am I struggling to trust, and why?"
This reframe changes everything.
The Parts You Don't Trust
The first concept I want my clients - and you - to understand: you're not one singular self. You're a collection of parts, each with its own agenda, its own history, its own way of trying to keep you safe or get your needs met.
If you can conceptualize this, you can step out of the identification of labels such as "addict" in order to appreciate the true self underneath life's conditioning.
And when you say "I don't trust myself," what you really mean is: "There are parts of me I don't trust."
Specifically? You don't trust the part who wants to engage in chemsex.
And I get it.
It's lied.
It's manipulated.
It's hurt people you love.
It's led you into some dark places.
It's made promises it couldn't keep.
It's convinced you to prioritize getting high over everything else you claimed to value.
