I Hate Me More Than You

TRIGGER WARNING: This entry mentions suicide & child abuse.

  Life after child abuse (defining child abuse as physical, sexual, or severe emotional abuse of a child) can be so difficult and painful. You hate the world, and it seems the world hates you. Maybe the company you have hates you (maybe not), but the world doesn’t. But the worst part of child abuse, any survivor can attest, isn’t your feelings towards and about others but your feelings towards yourself. 

   I spend all day pouring out apologies for having needs and wants. Plus, if one shows criticism towards me, I’ll both apologize and take us both on a long argumentative discussion to fulfill a very twisted need. A need best described as, “Am I bad? You know I’m bad. Just tell me I’m bad!” 

   As a child, my dad told me I was manipulative and spoiled rotten. I believed him for some reason. Whenever my dad bullied my mom, I tried to intervene. My mom would then tell me, “Stay out of it. You’ll only make it worse.” Worse? Am I making it worse? The guilt overwhelmed me as if I might as well have been hurting her myself. Why did I keep intervening while simultaneously having a vague understanding that I wasn’t helping? 

   In elementary school, every teacher hated me for being “too troublesome,” every fellow student for being “too sensitive,” and every college-aged daycare worker for the same reason as the students. “Harden your heart,” my teacher said. “Don’t be a crybaby,” spouted the daycare worker. “You’re a loser!” laughed the student.

   Do you see a theme yet? Let’s keep going. The beatings from my dad sent the message, “Why aren’t you worshipping me, you brat! Not my fault you’re evil!” As I became an adult, things didn’t get much better. I was still living with an abuser as a person who was disabled and unable to leave.

 Meanwhile, my complex extended family constantly criticized me, “You’re fat,” “Where’s your makeup? You’re a girl,” “You’re parents kept you too safe and too spoiled,” “Your anxiety is because your mom overprotected you,” “You’re not sick. You’re dramatic,” “I’m afraid to talk to you because of your impossible standards (i.e., compassion. Yes, how dare I?),” I could go on all night, but I’d never sleep... I can’t, however, forget to mention my birth mother’s (she abandoned me at 15mos, talk about reasons for self-hatred) feelings towards me, “You ungrateful little brat!” “You're lucky to be my daughter, yet I have YOU! So unfair!” “You’re not my daughter anymore!” “I’m suing you!”

   As a result, whenever anyone is upset, I think, “There I go again,” “I’m a monster,” “Why can’t I stop being a failure,” “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just accept my apology for being terrible.” And that’s after I have my panic attack, then finish hyperventilating. Is it any wonder why I have zero self-esteem and struggle every day with thoughts of suicide? 

   All my life, people tried to “fix” me. All my life, I wasn’t good enough. All my life, I was “bad.” All those around me would blame me for others' actions, insecurities, perceptions, and feelings. I was convinced as a teen that I wasn’t even human. I believed nature had cursed me before I was even born in some inconceivable way. 

Eventually, my parents split, and a close relative told my mom it was my fault. Later my dad attempted suicide, to which my uncle said, yes, you guessed it. It was all my fault. Now? In therapy, I hear, “You’re so brilliant and lovable.” At home with my mom, I hear, “You changed my world for the better. You’re so smart and beautiful.” From my best friend overseas, “You’re an amazing person,” meanwhile, I just changed the subject. Honestly, compliments make me uncomfortable. I feel like I don’t deserve them. How could I, of all people, have value? How could I, of all people, be lovable? How could I, of all people, be an amazing person? It goes against everything I’ve experienced and everything I've heard.

   My therapist has me writing about something I’m good at each day. It’s quite frankly rather challenging. My mind draws a blank for a long time, and my final result seems desperate. Reversing 27 years of self-hate is no simple task. As my therapist says, “You're learning a way of thinking that your brain can’t even comprehend how to begin.” 

   I’d say for those in my shoes, have patience with yourself while simultaneously trying your hardest not to quit. They advertise recovery as worth it. They don’t advertise it as easy.

-Anemone