I decided a while ago that self-hate is completely and utterly pointless. I don’t have any real reason to hate myself; neither does anyone else. You didn’t ask to come into this world. You were born, and you lived the life you did, and as much as you have free will, you are imperfect, and you will inevitably do stupid things. That’s not your fault. Your existence, no matter how good or bad you think it is, is not your fault. So try to redirect your self-hate. I, for example, choose instead to hate my life, not myself.
In hating my life instead, I often think of metaphors to describe it. I’m not sure what it does for me, but I’ll just randomly think “My life is a flaming pile of dog turd…” or I’ll see a documentary about plane crashes with graphic animation and think, “Wow, what an accurate representation of my entire life. Breaking apart into unrecognizable pieces and bursting into flames.” Pictures of epic car/train/plane wrecks, the thought of flaming piles of animal feces, a video of a building structure collapsing onto itself without any warning. These and many other fails and/or disasters are perfect metaphors of my entire exhausting, mediocre, relatively pointless life.
But my life is not my fault. And, if you take nothing else from this, remember that your life is not your fault.
1 comment
I think we’ve all been there. Partly I’ve hated myself for many stupid decisions that I’ve made or not being able to control my emotions or just looking the way I do. But I pin most of that on my terrible parents-who are no different that most loser parents out there.
I struggled a lot with this over many years. At times I’ve felt I’ve reached some peace with myself, other times I wished I was dead and came close to planning my death.
What kept me going is that there are things I truly love about life so I put up with the bullshit in the hope that one day I will get to do the things I want to do. Also my life wasn’t completely terrible-like it has been for some people, I did have a lot of fun and some beautiful, exciting moments and it’s experiences like that that make me want more.
But I’m not attached to life like I once was-I’m ready to go anytime-if things go badly for me. I see it as a ride or a game, you try your luck in life hope for the best and if it doesn’t work out, then just leave.
What I do really hate is that I had no choice in the matter of living-it was forced on me by 2 people I absolutely despise. If we could choose our parents I’d definitely pick someone else…but then I find most humans to be pretty loathesome and wouldn’t choose them to be my parents either.
Sadly we have morons running our world-if they had any intelligence they’d at least make suicide accessible, quick and painless for all those who no longer wish to live. We shouldn’t be forced to live a life we don’t want and have to take very serious, dangerous risks to end it. That’s unacceptable, especially when modern medicine can make death very easy and stress free.