Hello and welcome back to The Happya Life Podcast. I’m Clare Deacon, positive psychology coach, trauma-informed therapist, nervous system educator, and founder of Happya.

I want to begin by saying this: if you’ve ever broken your own promises, if you’ve set intentions and then abandoned them, if you’ve sworn “never again” only to find yourself right back in the same pattern, you’re not alone. And more importantly, you’re not broken.

Because this episode? This is about trusting yourself again. Even when you’ve disappointed yourself. Even when you’ve abandoned yourself. Even when you’ve made vows you couldn’t keep.

I want you to take a deep breath right here. Because I know the weight of this topic. I know the shame that rises when we think about all the times we didn’t follow through. And I want you to hear this, clearly, as we start: your inability to keep every promise to yourself does not mean you are unworthy of trust.

It means you’re human. It means you’ve been carrying more than anyone could. It means your nervous system, your survival strategies, and your conditioning have been louder than your intentions. And that can change.

Let’s get real. How many times have you whispered to yourself, “This time will be different”? Maybe it was about setting a boundary. Or finally resting. Or starting a morning routine. Or not checking your emails at midnight. Or eating in a way that nourishes you.

And maybe, for a while, you did it. Until life happened. Until stress piled up. Until you were triggered. Until the kids got sick. Until you were lonely. Until you were tired.

And slowly, the new promise slipped away.

And what came rushing in? Not just frustration. Not just exhaustion. But shame. The kind of shame that whispers: “See? You can’t even trust yourself. You’ll never change. Why bother trying?”

Does that sound familiar?

Here’s what I want you to know: that voice is not the truth. That voice is the residue of survival mode. That voice is the echo of old wounds. And it is lying to you.

Because you can trust yourself again. And that trust doesn’t come from perfection. It doesn’t come from flawless discipline. It comes from compassion. From repair. From showing up, gently and consistently, in ways your nervous system can actually hold.

Let’s pause here and talk about the why. Why does self-trust feel so fragile, especially for individuals who are otherwise so capable?

It’s because self-trust isn’t built in the head. It’s built in the body. And if your body has spent years, maybe decades, in fight, flight, or freeze, then of course follow-through feels slippery. Because your system has been wired for survival, not sustainability.

Think about it. If you learned early on that your needs didn’t matter, or that your safety depended on pleasing others, then breaking promises to yourself was never failure. It was adaptation. Your nervous system prioritised other people over you. Again and again. And every time you abandoned yourself, it reinforced that wiring. Until it became automatic.

So now, when you say, “This time I’ll choose me” your body flinches. Your survival brain says, “Are you sure? That’s dangerous.” And so you self-sabotage. Not because you’re weak. But because your wiring hasn’t caught up to your intention.

That’s why rebuilding self-trust isn’t about willpower. It’s about safety. It’s about creating conditions where your body learns: it’s safe to keep my word to myself. It’s safe to show up for me.

And I know what you’re thinking: But Clare, I’ve broken my promises so many times. How do I even begin again?

Here’s the truth: every time you’ve abandoned yourself, you’ve also had another chance to return. To repair. To choose again. That’s what trust really is, not perfection, but repair.

Think of it like this: in healthy relationships, trust isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about owning the mistakes and repairing them. Self-trust works the same way.

So instead of beating yourself up for every broken promise, what if you started repairing? What if you spoke to yourself the way you’d speak to a friend who stumbled? With kindness. With encouragement. With belief in her ability to begin again.

Because here’s the truth, trust is not built in one grand vow. It’s built in tiny, repeated acts of self-respect. Small hinges, big doors.

Let’s do a little grounding moment together, right here.

If it’s safe, close your eyes. Place a hand on your chest, another on your belly. Take a slow breath in through your nose. And sigh it out through your mouth.

And just whisper to yourself:
 “Even when I’ve broken my own promises, I am still worthy of trust. I can choose again. I can begin again.”

Breathe that in. Let it land.

That’s the work. Not condemning yourself for the past, but creating space for a different future.

So what does this actually look like? Here’s a taste.

It looks like making promises that your body can keep, not your fantasy self, not your overachiever self, but you that exists today, with the energy you have right now.

It looks like noticing the moment you want to abandon yourself, and instead of spiralling into shame, gently asking, “What do I need in this moment to feel safe enough to follow through?”

It looks like choosing consistency over intensity. Choosing one small act of alignment, drinking a glass of water, journaling for two minutes, saying one honest no, instead of overwhelming yourself with big promises you can’t possibly keep when life gets heavy.

And most of all, it looks like forgiving yourself when you fall. And choosing again. Every day. Every breath.

Because here’s what I know: you will break promises again. You will forget. You will get tired. You will get triggered. You will abandon yourself in moments. And that doesn’t mean you can’t trust yourself. It means you’re human.

The question isn’t, “Will I ever mess up?” The question is, “When I mess up, will I repair? Will I return?”

That’s where trust is born. In the repair. In the return.

So today, I want to invite you to one gentle act. One promise to yourself that is so small it almost feels silly. Something you know you can keep. Maybe it’s drinking water when you wake up. Maybe it’s stepping outside for two minutes of fresh air. Maybe it’s writing down one feeling before bed.

Keep it tiny. Keep it doable. And keep it consistent. Because self-trust isn’t built in the grand gestures. It’s built in the small, repeated choices that prove: I can count on me.

And if this conversation on self-trust resonated with you, if you’ve been carrying the shame of broken promises and you’re ready to start again with compassion, then know this: you don’t have to do it alone.

This podcast, this community, this work, it’s here to remind you that you are worthy of trust, worthy of care, and worthy of starting over, as many times as it takes.

And speaking of starting over, next week we’re going to talk about something that sneaks up on so many of us: burnout. Not the obvious kind where you collapse, but the subtle, creeping signs you might miss, until suddenly you’re flat on the floor wondering how you got there.

Episode 61 is called The Burnout You Didn’t See Coming (Until It Knocked You Flat). And in it, we’ll explore how to recognise the hidden signs of emotional burnout before it spirals into a breakdown.

Until then, thank you for being here. For choosing yourself in this moment. If this episode moved you, please share it, subscribe, leave a review, it helps this work reach more women who need it.

Take kind care of you.
💛 Clare x