Summary

The author, Bret, shares his personal struggle with self-hatred stemming from a traumatic early childhood experience involving an abusive figure, and discusses the impact on his mental health, his coping mechanisms, and his journey towards understanding and addressing his feelings.

Abstract

Bret opens up about his internal battle with self-hatred, a persistent feeling that lingers beneath the surface despite his ability to smile and enjoy life. He attributes this self-hatred to a history of depression, anxiety, and a tendency to focus on failures rather than successes. Bret's behavior is marked by excessive apologizing and conflict avoidance, driven by a belief that his needs and opinions are unimportant. He reveals that his self-hatred is rooted in a repressed memory of witnessing his biological father's infidelity and the subsequent abuse, which has led to a lifelong pattern of self-doubt and fear. Despite these challenges, Bret is actively working on his mental health and encourages others to do the same, emphasizing the importance of recognizing and addressing mental health issues. He reflects on various coping mechanisms and treatments he has tried, including therapy and self-medication, and acknowledges the slow and ongoing process of healing.

Opinions

Bret believes that self-hatred is directly related to his low moods, depression, and anxiety.
He initially dismissed the idea that his current struggles could be traced back to childhood experiences, viewing it as a cliché.
Bret feels that his loving stepfather and strong mother are not to blame for his emotional issues, despite the presence of an abusive figure in his early life.
He harbors guilt about speaking up or causing any form of conflict, which he manages by remaining silent and accepting situations against his preference.
Bret acknowledges the complexity of his emotions and behaviors, recognizing that his avoidance of conflict and his self-hatred may be perceived as narcissistic, but he refutes this notion, stating that his way of thinking was not chosen but imposed upon him.
He is skeptical of quick fixes for mental health issues, such as medication, which he likens to a temporary bandaid, and is cautious about the effectiveness of therapy, emphasizing the importance of finding a therapist one can trust.
Bret does not seek pity but shares his story to highlight the importance of mental health awareness and to encourage others to confront their own mental challenges.
He admits to previously using material possessions and alcohol as forms of self-medication, which provided temporary enjoyment but did

Do You Hate Yourself?

I do.

That may seem harsh and difficult to understand.

If you know me personally, it may be hard to accept. “Not Bret, he’s always smiling.”

Hating myself doesn’t mean I never smile or I can’t enjoy the world around me. I can and I do. But still, this feeling is always there, just under the surface.

I think I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding it.

Self-hate is directly related to low moods, depression, and anxiety. I have suffered those negative feelings for years. I have difficulty recognizing success, and I focus instead on my failures.

Hating myself is a constant internal reminder that I’m not good enough, that I am not deserving.

Too many of my conversations begin with “I’m sorry.” I am asking forgiveness before I even begin. No matter how diligent I may be at home or at work, in my mind, it’s never going to be good enough.

While waiting to be served in a restaurant, if my order is late or it’s wrong, I don’t react. I would never say, “I didn’t order a baked potato, I ordered fries.” I just smile and say nothing at all.

Friends view my behavior and insist that I’m too nice.

But I’m not trying to be nice, I am avoiding conflict. I don’t want to bring negative attention. Actually, I don’t want any attention. I also feel guilty about how the other person (my friend, my boss, the waitress) will feel knowing that I disagree. I don’t deserve to be heard. My opinion isn’t very important…I’ll just stick with the baked potato.

On the other side of this avoidance, and the feeling that my needs are unimportant, is the anger that exists inside me.

It’s complex.

A few have called me a narcissist because it’s selfish to be so absorbed in myself and my thoughts. Maybe there is some truth in that. I understand their perspective.

Only a narcissist would try to excuse their behavior by blaming someone else…but I didn’t choose this way of thinking.

It was given to me.

Why Would Anyone Hate Themself?

Self-hatred is supposed to be caused by a painful childhood experience. Apparently, something happened when I was young that made me constantly criticize myself. This led to low self-esteem and self-hate.

Something caused me to hate myself.

For years, I didn’t believe that “childhood experience” explanation. I thought it was bullshit, a cookie-cutter excuse. My personal challenges must be related to work, divorce, or some other failed experience. And that’s how I thought about it for years.

How could I blame my parents, and accept an overused description that someone read in Psychology Today?

That was my perspective. For a long time, I wouldn’t even consider it.

I know I had a wonderful and privileged childhood, surrounded by a caring family. I love my Mom and Dad, and my brothers. They have always been supportive, both in success and failure, and I know that they love me very much.

But I was blocking a piece of my early childhood experience.

My Early Childhood

I blocked something negative that happened a long time ago. So much time had passed that it created distance, and the details became fuzzy. I suppose it’s natural to avoid something that causes you pain.

Despite the lapse in time and my attempts to avoid it, it was still there inside my head.

I told you I was concerned about blaming my parents. I said it felt like a bullshit excuse. But I realized my parents were not at fault.

My loving Dad didn’t come into my life until I was 6 or 7. He couldn’t be blamed for my early pain. He gave us love and calm. I also overlooked the fact that my beautiful Mother fought like hell to protect us. She did it on her own. She is ever strong and my pain is not her fault either, quite the contrary.

There is only one person to blame.

My early life included a man who was physically and mentally abusive. He is the biological father of my younger brother. I don’t remember all of the details. Maybe I don’t want to remember. I guess I pushed those memories out of my head a long time ago. I mean, how much of your early childhood do you really remember? Especially when it’s not captured in family photos or talked about around the dinner table.

Here is one episode that still lives in my head.

This person had taken me and my little brother to the park. We must have been five and three. It wasn’t our usual park, it was someplace we had never been to before. There was no playground, just a long green field with benches around the outside.

We were told to sit on one of those benches.

He said he was going to watch us from the other end. After some time, it began to get dark. I could see him off in the distance. He was sitting on a bench at the far end, kissing a blonde woman. My Mom is blonde, but this woman was not my Mother.

When we got home, I told my Mom what I had seen.

There was a lot of screaming in the kitchen. Cabinets slammed and dishes were shattered. I remember being held up against the wall while he yelled at me. All of a sudden, he grabbed a hammer out of the drawer.

My Mother pushed herself in between us to protect me, and he smashed the hammer into the wall above my head.

I still remember that hole in the kitchen wall.

As I said, the details are blurry, but I know there were many more situations just like this.

Eventually, my mother locked him out of the house. But he kept coming back in the middle of the night, yelling and banging on the door. I remember my mom telling a friend about her experience in court — she said that even the court officers were afraid of getting too close to him.

There is one detail in all of this that is not fuzzy. I clearly remember always being afraid. That “gift” has affected the way I view the world.

Fear is a powerful emotion. Being afraid of making the wrong decision or saying the wrong thing can be just as overwhelming as being afraid that someone will harm you.

My fear led to decades of self-doubt. My emotional response was to hate myself.

Is This a Pity Party?

Not at all. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. Everyone has challenges, this is mine. It happened a long time ago and I am finally working on it by recognizing it.

I shared this with you because I’m not the only one experiencing a mental challenge. Your mental health and well-being is important. It can take on a life of its own inside your head. Not taking care of it can also affect those around you. People care, and people worry about you; even strangers.

Your mental health can also have an effect on you physically. For years, I’ve had difficulty sleeping. Sometimes I feel great. Other times, I am so unmotivated that I just can’t leave the house.

Everyone Likes to Give Advice

People love to give you advice about your mental health. “Go for a walk.” “Just smile and think happy thoughts.” “You should go to therapy and see what they recommend.”

I understand it’s all delivered with good intentions.

Therapy is a good idea, but it depends on your therapist. I’ve spent time with many. Can you trust and share, even the painful parts? It’s a slow process.

Meds can be helpful, but in my experience, it’s short-term, like a bandaid for your brain. Bandaids wear off pretty quickly. They’re not meant as an everlasting solution. For me, the cons of prescription meds far outweighed any benefits.

Before therapy, I used to self-medicate with fancy clothes, expensive vacations, and alcohol. Those actually led to some good memories, but they didn’t shed any light on my problem.

Before you follow anyone’s direction, you need to reflect and try to see it for yourself. Recognize your challenge, and if you can, identify the cause or origination.

It will take time.

You need to believe in yourself. I’m not there yet, but I’m trying.

Thanks for reading. If you want to keep me writing, you can always buy me a cup of coffee using this link.