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.