How to Talk to Yourself When You Mess Up
Let’s be honest: everyone messes up sometimes.
You eat something you said you wouldn’t.
You skip a workout.
You ghost your check-ins.
You find yourself elbow-deep in a bag of cookies after a long, stressful day.
And in that moment, the moment RIGHT AFTER, what you say to yourself matters more than most people realise.
Because that moment is the fork in the road.
Not the slip-up itself. Not the cookie, or the skipped session, or the extra glass of wine.
But the way you respond to the slip-up. The words you hear in your head.
The internal story you tell about what just happened and what it says about you.
That’s the moment where most people either spiral… or start to grow.
"I'm Weak." "I'm a Failure." "This Is Just Who I Am."
If you’ve ever said any of those things to yourself, you’re in very crowded company.
Most of the people I work with - smart, capable, accomplished people - use this kind of language when they’ve had a setback. They get angry at themselves. They call themselves weak. Or they swing to the opposite extreme, resigning themselves to the idea that they’re just not the kind of person who can get this stuff right.
"I always mess this up."
"This is just who I am."
Neither of those responses are productive. One is an emotional overreaction. The other is quiet surrender.
Neither one leads to growth.
But there is another option. And it starts with recognising what’s actually going on.
The Slip-Up Is Never Just About Food
Let’s take a few real-world examples.
I have a client who used to order Blizzards on DoorDash after a hard day. She deleted the apps (a smart move) but still finds herself stopping at the grocery store to buy cookies or candy when work stress or injury frustration builds up.
Another client tries to avoid her favourite binge foods, but when they go on sale (hello, chocolate-covered gummy bears), she’ll buy multiple bags. The temptation is always in the house. And it gets her.
Me? I’ve got a long-standing beef with Zesty Cheese Doritos. If they’re in the house, it’s game over. I’ll crush a family-size bag without blinking. Same goes for when my kids bake. Cookies, cake, pastries…it’s like a willpower war zone.
And in all of these cases, the issue isn’t just the food. It’s the moment before the food AND the story after.
People rarely overeat because they’re simply hungry. More often, it’s because something else is happening beneath the surface, like stress, boredom, loneliness, resentment, or exhaustion. Food becomes a coping mechanism. A reward. A release. A way to feel a sense of control or comfort, even if only briefly.
Food offers an easy outlet, not because you’re weak, but because it’s available, it’s fast, and it works. At least temporarily.
And here’s the thing: those “problem” foods aren’t just available, they’re engineered. Particularly in our North American food landscape, we’re surrounded by hyper-palatable options that are literally designed to be hard to stop eating. That magical combination of salt, sugar, and fat is no accident - it’s a formula. These products are crafted to hijack your brain’s reward system. And when you’re depleted or stressed, your ability to resist that stimulus drops even further.
What makes this even trickier is that food is necessary. You can’t just quit eating the way you might avoid alcohol or cigarettes. You have to learn to live with it, navigate it, and make peace with your choices. It’s socially acceptable. It's everywhere. And it often serves as an emotional buffer, a way to soften the edges of a tough day, or reward yourself for holding it together.
What Actually Drives These Decisions
When people find themselves in that "fuck it" moment - standing in front of the pantry, mindlessly scrolling through takeout options, or finishing the rest of the tray of brownies - it’s rarely about a lack of discipline or knowledge. Nine times out of ten, it’s about capacity.
Specifically, how worn down someone feels emotionally, mentally, and even physically in that moment. There are three forces I see over and over again that create the perfect storm for a slip-up: emotional depletion, decision fatigue, and perceived entitlement. Let’s unpack each of those.
Emotional Depletion shows up when someone’s been holding everything together all day - keeping their cool through frustrating meetings, managing household chaos, showing up for others, biting their tongue, pushing through discomfort - and by the time evening rolls around, there’s just nothing left in the tank. That depletion isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. It feels like numbness, detachment, or a sense that you just don’t care anymore. In that state, it’s incredibly hard to stay aligned with your goals, not because you don’t want to, but because your emotional bandwidth is gone.
Decision Fatigue is closely related. We make hundreds of decisions every day - what to wear, how to respond to that text, whether to work out now or later, what to cook, how to handle that passive-aggressive email, whether to say yes or no to something someone’s asked of us. Each of those choices chips away at our available mental energy. By the time you get to the end of the day, the idea of yet another decision (even a small one like what to make for dinner) can feel impossibly hard. And so, the easiest option wins. Fast food. A handful of chips. Whatever’s in the freezer. You don’t choose it because it aligns with your goals. You choose it because you’re out of decisions.
And then there’s Entitlement - the feeling that you’ve earned a break, a reward, or a moment of pleasure. This can sneak in quietly after a particularly hard day: “I’ve been good all week, I deserve this.” Or even more subtly: “Everything else has been so hard lately…why not just let myself have this?” Entitlement isn’t inherently bad. It’s human. The problem is when it becomes a justification for choices that actively undermine what you really want long term. It’s not about never having the thing. It’s about recognising when you’re using that thing as a crutch instead of a conscious choice.
When clients tell me, “This is just how I am,” what they’re often really saying is, “This is how I’ve always responded, so I don’t trust myself to do it differently.” That’s not identity. That’s history. And history doesn’t have to keep repeating itself.
This is why recognising these patterns matters so much. Because once you understand what’s actually driving your choices, you’re no longer just reacting, you’re learning. And once you’re learning, you can start to change.
Use RAIN - Or Start Even Smaller
One of the tools I teach is a version of the RAIN process - a mindfulness-based tool that helps interrupt the shame spiral. And it’s not just a sequence of steps, it’s a framework for rewriting your internal dialogue. Each part of the process gives you new language to use with yourself in the moments where your old patterns usually take over.
R – Recognize what just happened
A – Allow yourself to Acknowledge the moment without spiralling
I – Investigate what led to it (fatigue? stress? no better option on hand?)
N – Non-identify and remind yourself: this does not define me
Importantly, "non-identify" doesn’t mean blaming circumstances or absolving yourself entirely. At some point, there was an element of choice - there always is. Life is a series of choices. But it’s just as important to recognise that you’re not doomed to always make the same ones.
Non-identifying means separating what happened from who you are. You made a choice. It wasn’t the one you wanted to make. That doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It means you’re human, and you now have an opportunity to choose differently next time.
But sometimes, even RAIN feels like too much in the moment. So we simplify and give ourselves an even shorter internal script to follow.
Notice. Name. Navigate.
Notice what just happened.
Name it without judgement: "That was a choice. Not a great one. But it’s done."
Navigate forward: "What’s one better choice I can make next?"
You don’t have to be perfect, just present. One better step is all it takes to interrupt the spiral.
Practical Tools to Break the Cycle
Some clients like to use journaling in these moments. Others prefer voice notes or a quick message to their coach or accountability partner. Whatever the tool, the goal is the same: interrupt the guilt loop and re-establish a sense of agency.
Here are a few techniques that work well:
Track it anyway. Log what happened. Even if you’re not proud of it, see it as data. That choice was part of your day. It doesn’t need to be hidden.
Say it out loud. Literally. Acknowledge what happened in neutral language: “I overate. I was stressed. I didn’t plan ahead. I’ll handle it better next time.”
Reach out. Don’t isolate yourself. If you’re in coaching, this is exactly the moment to lean into support, not away from it.
Get curious. Ask, “What would have helped me make a different choice?” Not from a place of judgment, but from a place of learning.
You could also keep a short “If/Then” list somewhere visible. For example:
If I’m tired and overwhelmed, then I’ll drink a glass of water and go for a short walk before deciding on food.
If I feel the urge to binge, then I’ll text my coach or write down what I’m feeling first.
These aren’t rules. They’re reminders - ways to gently redirect your behaviour when you’re at risk of defaulting to old habits.
This Is How Identity Begins to Shift
Changing the way you talk to yourself isn’t just a mindset exercise, it’s an identity shift. Because every time you respond to a setback with clarity instead of criticism, you’re telling yourself a different story. Not just about what happened, but about who you are becoming.
Here’s the magic of this approach: when you start responding to slip-ups this way, even once, you start to build trust in yourself.
Just like the self-blame game creates a vicious circle, mindful self-talk creates a virtuous one:
You notice a mistake
You respond with clarity, not shame
You make a better next choice
That choice reinforces your confidence
Confidence makes the next choice easier
And over time?
You stop seeing yourself as someone who "always messes up."
You start becoming someone who knows how to course-correct.
You start to see yourself as the kind of person who makes good choices. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’ve practised returning to what matters, over and over again.
What does this look like in real life? It might start with:
Feeling less panicked after a slip
Being able to pause mid-binge and stop, instead of waiting for Monday
Planning ahead for messy days, instead of pretending they won’t happen
Feeling curious (rather than anxious) about upcoming social events
Describing indulgent choices with less shame and more perspective
Talking openly about “bad” decisions as just data, not disasters
Clients often shift from saying, "I blew it," to something more like, "That wasn’t my best choice, but I didn’t let it define my whole week. I moved forward better."
That shift in language matters. It’s not just semantics, it’s identity work. Because the stories we tell ourselves shape the beliefs we hold. And those beliefs ultimately drive our actions. If you keep telling yourself you’re the kind of person who always messes up, you’ll find ways to keep proving it. But if you start speaking like someone who knows how to recover (and who deserves to) your actions will start to match that too.
These are the signals of real change. Not perfection, but progress. Not rigidity, but self-trust.
Self-Talk That Builds Capability
It might sound like a small thing, but learning how to speak to yourself when you mess up is one of the most underrated mindset skills there is.
It’s the difference between:
"I blew it. I always blow it. What’s the point?"
and
"That wasn’t ideal. But I’m still in this. I can make the next choice a better one."
Here’s what those internal voices might actually sound like:
🛑 Negative self-talk:
"You’re such a screw-up. Why can’t you get this right?"
😐 Neutral self-talk:
"That happened. Not great. But it’s not the end of the world."
✅ Supportive self-talk:
"That choice doesn’t define me. What matters is what I do now…and I know how to do better."
And that last one? That’s the one that builds capability. That’s the one that makes it easier to stay in the game long enough to see real, lasting change.
You don’t need a perfect streak. You need an interruptible pattern. A way to talk to yourself that makes it easier to come back, again and again, until consistency becomes your baseline.
If You Only Remember One Line, Let It Be This:
"That happened, and THAT'S TOTALLY OK. What matters is what I do NOW — and I can choose my own path forward."
That one line might not sound like much. But in the moment when you're feeling guilt, frustration, or shame, it's the difference between spiralling further and coming back to centre.
This applies not only when it comes to fitness and nutrition, but to ALL areas of your life.
That voice in your head (the one narrating your choices) matters. When that voice is cruel, catastrophising, or defeatist, it keeps you stuck. When it’s steady, honest, and compassionate, it opens the door to movement. To agency. To change.
This isn’t about delusion or empty affirmations. It’s about replacing old scripts with new ones that are grounded in truth: You messed up, AND you’re still capable. That choice wasn’t ideal, AND you still have the power to choose again.
Because the way you talk to yourself after a mistake is what determines whether that mistake becomes a pattern... or a pivot point.
Your words matter, so let’s make them better.