Hatred

I’m not a fan of the fact that I’m a roiling cauldron of hatred. Just under the surface and all the way to my core. I wrote about forgiveness a long time ago and how it’s not a choice. Emotional control is a behavior but you can’t actually choose how you feel. And a lot of times all I feel is hate.

Aside from my general disgust for humanity my more specific hatred comes from feeling betrayed. A lot of people who said they were my friends let me down when I needed them, just needed somebody. And that small betrayal just festered then resent turned to hatred when they deny I was ever wronged.

Pragmatically I know all that hatred isn’t doing me any good. Anger clouds the mind as Yoda would say, and I’d prefer a clear head and a happy life.

I want to be a more positive person for my own internal self and not just because peace and clarity would make me more productive.

But I’m swamped in hatred. For myself, my life, my family, my former friends, the world. I try to use it as motivation but really it’s toxic and not helping. It just nags at me and feeds feelings of worthlessness.

Because it’s just a reminder that I was quietly, tacitly betrayed by everyone. That all friendship is Fairweather. That I can’t change my history. That all this powerful hatred is actually impotent. How could something that feels this big be so meaningless?

So I gave myself some THC therapy. One of the neurological things about depression is that electrical impulses in the brain, i.e, thoughts, take the path of least resistance. When one thought leads to another it exercises that connection and other connections shrink. That’s why we ruminate and dwell on things, we’ve worn a groove into our brain and all the negative thoughts run in a loop.

All treatments for depression focus on breaking that loop and making new connections. Including psychoactive and psychedelic drugs. So I did some edible THC, listened to Springsteen, and had a good think.

And I feel better, deeper, more connected, away from the weight of all that anger. It’s not a miracle and I’m not suddenly a hippie, everyone still sucks, I’ve just broken the chain of obsessing about it and can start focusing on other things.

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Singer/songwriter, jerk.

Posted in Depression & Suicide, Pragmatism
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