I think hate is something humans need to understand as best they can. Unfortunately, one needs to experience it to know it logically and emotionally.
You say you hated yourself, so naturally, that's a place to examine, but you're right to do research, too. Your message and goal is one of healing. Thank you always, Jenny.
I was taught to hate by a stepfather who tortured me beginning when I was four years old. I remember the moment it started and the moment it ended. I have stories about that relationship that I'm afraid to tell. Not because of the hate or anger and pain I, again, might feel, but because I might not be able to therapeutically express the horror in it. It's not like I need to write about it. I lived it; I know it. So, why do I want to write about it? I want to warn people yet coax them into finding help if they think and feel like I did.
In my moments, I believe thoughts and feelings are practically the same. I don't have time to care what duelists or monists teach. There's too much going on. I want to get my logical and emotional intelligence in sync. I'm a bit fed up with our logic as the precedent social structure. Lagging far behind is our ability to listen to our emotions. That said, ‘Think before you act’ needs editing; it should say, ‘Feel and think before you act.’
During the time I ‘hated,’ I had momentary flare-ups with people other than my stepfather, but not since I stopped hating him. Hate creates peripheral casualties. Mine was a force of nature that didn't require violence, but it could. If need be, I could have killed if physically able. My presence in those instances always felt as if I was some other supreme defensive entity. At the peak of each occurrence, I remember feeling, ‘out of body.’ I was a being that switched into existence long enough to lock eyes with those of my would-be abusers. Those people learned instantly that the extent of my hate was more significant than theirs. They could feel my primal fear surrounding them and sensed how far I'd go to defend or prove myself. Anything to make them back off, including disassociation. A place of total protection.
My hate was a battlefield. Not all the skirmishes with my stepfather were initiated by him. I learned his weaknesses and saw that he hated others as I hated him. I didn't care about his problems. I cared about his choices.
I stopped hating him when he and I locked eyes, and he spoke his truth regarding me. He said, ‘You hate me.’ From that point on, I’ve only felt an indifferent melancholy regarding him because I know that he hated people until he passed away.
So, being human, I think I will do to survive. Being Joe, I was once a survivor of hate. Now, I'm defined by freedom.