Growing up I was told never to use the word hate.
I was told I was allowed to extremely dislike someone, but never to hate. You could be angry and be upset, but hate was reserved for Satan and his demon friends. I distinctly remember being taught this at Catholic school and accepting it at face value. I grew out of saying things like I hate you at the ripe age of 10 anyways, and then it was mostly for petty revenge because I was a lil brat sometimes, and when someone tells you “don’t say this” in grade school you immediately have to give it a go.
Now I’m adultish. Things are different. Face value doesn’t cut it. Apparently I have to experience stuff first-hand to learn from it (ugh, Anna, you fool). During the past few weeks I’ve experienced the closest thing to hate I’ve ever really felt.
Hate is a strong word, and now I know, cause DAAAAAMN is hate a powerful feeling.
Having hate in my heart – for what seemed like the first time – has been totally messing with me. Seriously guys, I’ve been feeling extra crazy recently. I’m saying and doing things out of character. I’m short tempered and bitter. My thoughts are clouded with pessimism. I wish I could take a shower and wash this off of me. I’ve started assuming the worst in people around me, and it sucks.
Yeah. That’s it. Hate sucks.
I don’t want to be a hater (have you seen the shit the Internet thinks about HATERS? It’s not pretty). I want to be a lover. I’ve been straying from that because I’m scared. Recently I’ve been stabbed for giving people the benefit of the doubt. Finding that balance between loving and over trusting is HARD (if anyone has it figured out, let me know – I’ll throw you a Tubman when those suckers come out. Oh shit, you may have to settle for a Jackson cause it might be awhile).
No, JC, you did not stutter.
Nothing good comes from hate. It’s like fighting fire with fire but inside your own being, and that’s a totally garbage way to put out a fire. Love is the water within that extinguishes that feeling, but I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places . I have to physically put myself around people that are good influences and around situations with good vibes.
Yes, there’s something to be said for letting yourself feel the way you feel, but finding a balance so it doesn’t consume you – aka wallowing – is critical. Wallowing, or dwelling, is my specialty as I’ve mentioned in previous posts. Repetitive thoughts keep me up at night and invade my dreams, desperately asking me to go back and fix the past by avoiding situations and people.
My anxiety thinks it can time travel. Well, guess what anxiety, YOU CAN’T DO THAT. I’ve repeatedly sat myself down and had a talking to about the fact that wallowing will not change the outcome of past events – yet it won’t go away. I’ve dove into distractions, but this feeling of hate is an ugly leech. It’s suckin’ the blood out of me, and I like having blood thank you very much.
I’m going church shopping this weekend since my homeboy JC has some pretty good ideas about love (that I haven’t given much attention to recently), and love is the cure for hate (if I’ve done my math correctly). I’ve been in pursuit of other ideas and concepts, trying to keep an open mind, but I keep coming back to the core values of Catholicism. Yeah, there’s a lot of not great stuff in there too, but we’ve got this guy – Pope Francis, aka Pope Cool Pope – stepping up to the plate now and keeping it holy n’ humble.
I get it. Maybe you’re not about that religious life. You can still go church shopping, but your church might be a mountaintop, a movie theater, yoga studio, roof, or an album. Find a place to be grateful and love will follow.
In the meantime I’m going to keep the lovers close – friends, family, cats, cactuses – and the haters out.