I keep starting fights over nothing. How do I stop?

Alright, let's get into this. First, I need to acknowledge that your level of self-awareness is miles ahead of most. You've correctly identified the irrationality, the pattern, and even the likely root cause: self-sabotage stemming from a feeling of unworthiness. That's a huge head start.

But let's look at your question with a critical eye.

Your question, "How do I fix myself before I destroy this?" is the core of the problem. You're framing yourself as a broken machine that needs fixing, and the relationship as something fragile that you, the broken machine, are about to smash. This perspective is drenched in the very same shame and self-criticism that is likely fueling the fights in the first place. You see a problem, you hate yourself for it, that self-hatred creates anxiety, the anxiety needs an outlet, and boom—you're screaming about a fork being in the wrong section of the dishwasher.

So, let's get this straight, and I'm going to be blunt because you asked me to be.

Are you fucking kidding me with the constant apologies? Stop it. Right now. Your apologies have become meaningless. They are a get-out-of-jail-free card you use on yourself to alleviate your own guilt, but they do nothing to fix the underlying wound you keep inflicting on your partner and your relationship. Each "I'm sorry, I'll do better" is a lie until you actually do better. Right now, it's just the final act in your destructive little play. It's a ritual that allows the cycle to reset. You're not fixing anything; you're just putting a cheap, flimsy bandage on a stab wound. He's pulling away not because of the fights, but because he's starting to realize your promises are worthless. That hurts more than any fight about an Instagram like.

You need to get out of your own feedback loop of irrationality -> guilt -> apology -> repeat. It's indulgent and it's destroying the trust.

Here is my advice, which is deliberately outside your current frame of "fixing yourself."

Forget "fixing." You are not a faulty appliance. You are a human with a set of deeply ingrained survival mechanisms that are now misfiring in a safe environment. Your mission is not to "fix" a flaw, but to understand and manage your emotional triggers. This is a shift from self-flagellation to compassionate investigation.

The "something that takes over" is your threat-response system (your amygdala). For whatever reason—past relationships, childhood, etc.—your brain has learned that emotional intimacy is dangerous. When your boyfriend does something that even subtly hints at rejection, imperfection, or a lack of attention (like a "weird tone"), your brain doesn't see a "good guy having a neutral moment." It screams DANGER! HE'S GOING TO LEAVE YOU! YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH! The fight you pick is a desperate, albeit dysfunctional, attempt to get reassurance. It's a test: "If I act crazy, will you still love me?" The problem is, every time you run that test, he gets a little bit closer to answering "No."

You say you can't stop yourself. Bullshit. You can. You just haven't practiced. The moment you feel that hot, prickly, irrational anger rising, your one and only job is to SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

This is not about suppressing the feeling. It's about not letting the feeling drive your actions. Create a "safe word" or a "pause phrase" with your boyfriend. This requires a separate, calm conversation.

You: "Hey, I am taking full ownership of the fact that I've been picking irrational fights, and my apologies are not enough. I am working on this. From now on, when I feel that irrational anger building, I'm going to say, 'I need a minute.' When I say that, it is not the start of a fight. It is me actively preventing one. All I need you to do is let me walk away for 10 minutes. Don't follow me. Don't ask what's wrong. Just let me go."

When you say the phrase, you physically leave the room. Go to the bathroom, step outside, whatever. In those 10 minutes, your only job is to feel the feeling without acting on it. Breathe. Notice your heart rate. Ask yourself one question: "What am I actually afraid of right now?"

• Is it that the dishwasher being loaded "wrong" makes you feel like you're not on the same team, that you're alone in managing your shared life?
• Is it that his coworker's post makes you feel insecure, not pretty enough, afraid you'll be replaced?
• Is it that his "fine" tone sounds like the tone someone used right before they abandoned you in the past?

Identify the real fear. The fight is never about the thing. It's about the fear underneath the thing.

After you've paused and identified the fear, you can go back to your partner. But you don't go back to apologize for a fight that didn't happen. You go back to be vulnerable. This is the advanced skill.

Instead of: "I'm sorry I freaked out about the dishwasher." Try: "Hey, can I tell you something a bit weird? When I saw the dishwasher, I had this huge emotional reaction. It made me feel [lonely/unsupported/anxious]. I know that's not what you intended, and it's my issue to work on, but that's what was really going on for me."

This turns him from an adversary into an ally. You're not attacking him; you're inviting him into your inner world. This builds intimacy. Accusations destroy it.

Your self-diagnosis is a sign that you are ready for therapy. You're trying to perform heart surgery on yourself using a pocket knife and a mirror. It's not going to work. Find a therapist who specializes in Attachment Theory (you likely have an Anxious Attachment style) or Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). This isn't a sign of weakness; it's the single most powerful and responsible step you can take. You owe it to yourself and to him to bring in a professional.

You feel you don't deserve a healthy relationship. A therapist will help you dig into the "why" of that belief. Until you excavate that rotten core belief and replace it, you will continue to burn down every good thing you have because, on some level, it feels safer to be in the wreckage you predicted than to live with the anxiety of potentially losing something wonderful.

Stop asking "How do I fix myself?" and start asking "What am I truly afraid of, and how can I learn to soothe that fear without burning everything down?" That's the real work. Now go do it.