My obsession with self hate

 When I was like 14 years old, my two nerdy best friends and an even more nerdy me gained an interest in spiritual teachings and learning. We came to understand that while obtaining information was cool, gaining wisdom was even cooler. So we set out to find religious and spiritual teachings that resonated most with us. My friend Akio became a true Christian, his life became moulded by Christian scripture and nothing could change the way he thought and went about life except the bible. My friend Brian became a stoic, he embraced stoicism and became a completely different person. So you might ask yourself what route did I take?

Being the point dexter I was, I chose to make my own cult of thought. A cult of thought like no other, “Graysonism” or something. I felt like I was going to be like the Buddha with my own belief system and way of life. I borrowed a lot of elements from Buddhism, nihilism and existentialism. My new way of life had one peculiar aspect, I knew it might be destructive but I still chose to go through with it. “Graysonism” had a focus on self-hatred. I don’t remember why I chose to incorporate self-hatred into my “philosophy” but it made sense for a 14-year-old me. I think at the time, I believed that human beings’ sense of reality was blurred by selfishness and self-preservation. If we only think about ourselves, we will never be able to see the true nature of existence. To combat this, I convinced myself that things would become more understandable if I started to hate myself. My obsession with self-hatred started as soon as I started gaslighting myself.

At first, I thought self-loathing was the perfect remedy for my narcissism. I felt more selfless, and I no longer saw myself as the central character of existence. It felt good to belittle myself. Self-hatred became a key motivator as well; my triumphs seemed insignificant, and I worked hard to do things that would make me proud of myself. My grades improved, and I became more engaged and hungry. Self-hatred appeared to be the panacea. I had become more humble, hungry, and determined.

But, over time, my self-hatred began to invade all facets of my life. My discontent with myself translated into low self-esteem. I wasn't proud of who I was, and nothing seemed to make me proud of myself. My self-hatred exacerbated my already terrible social anxiety. If I wasn't good enough for myself, how could I possibly be good enough for others? I began to close in on myself. What was once supposed to make the world look clearer has become jumbled with anxiety, sadness, and paranoia. I would go past a group of people and imagine they were criticising me; I felt like everyone was aware of my flaws and understood how pathetic and insignificant I was.

The worst part was that self-hatred was addictive; the more I despised myself, the more I sought ways to justify it. I began to believe that I did not deserve love or connection and that I was better off alone. Even my greatest achievements would not nourish my thirst now; in fact, they made me feel worse. I sobbed even when there was good news because the hatred told me I could do better. Nothing felt fulfilling. My relationships with others have changed, and I put on a mask every day so that others do not know how I feel. I made up jokes and chuckled to make things appear normal, but they weren't. My self-hatred contaminated my existence with insecurity and inauthenticity. My relationships deteriorated. My relationships grew worse. When my one and only romantic relationship ended, it felt like a vindication for everything I felt. Nobody deserved me, and I deserved nobody.

So what now? Is this essay meant to show that I am better now, that I have moved on and I live a better life now? Sort of, I've realised that self-hatred isn't the answer and that I should let go of this baggage. I still criticise myself (maybe more than the typical person), but I'm working on improving my self-esteem. Signs of affection from people still startle me and compliments feel like mockery, The good things in my life still feel underserved and I still fear social interactions. But, at the very least, I'm aware of my issue and am attempting to improve myself. 

To anyone who reads this, know that you are enough, even when it appears that you aren't. Remember to love yourself since life will be much more difficult if you don't. I discovered this the hard way. Existence is much more colourful once you are comfortable in your own skin.