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Old March 4th, 2008, 02:01 PM   #1
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aleus's Forum Picture
Join Date: February 29, 2008
Location: Hythe, Kent UK
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Default Self-hatred

Four years ago I was repeatedly assaulted for no other reason than the way I looked. The resulting trauma triggered something deep inside me. I became paralysed by paranoia and unable to function as a human being. I have schizophrenia and at the time I had just entered remission after my first psychotic episode. Psychosis had given me a phenomenal amount of confidence, because of the simple delusion that had made me believe I was a God. Although the delusion passed the confidence continued even after I went into remission. It's the only real good thing that has ever resulted from my illness. Not a single social situation could phase me. Conversations - no problem; flirting - no problem; making an ass out of myself in public - no problem... you get the picture. There was nothing I could not do. After the repeated assualts it all vanished. I mean it was gone, wiped from my mind. I hadn't the faintest clue how to hold a conversation with someone. 'What the hell do you talk about' was the most common thought that ran through my mind as the endless awkward silence continued endlessly between myself and the person I was trying to hold a conversation with. A friend of mine advised me to just ask a question, let the other person talk and fall naturally into the conversation. After that I became quite an expert on asking the initial question and listening, it was the falling naturally into it part I couldn't get the hang of, and so the endless awkward silences became common place in my life. I dreaded being left alone with someone. Add to the equation contributing to a group conversation and I was lost. I would patiently wait for an opening in the conversation so I could say something, anything and as soon as an opening appeared I didn't have any idea what to say. I sat on the sidelines listening helplessly as my friends talked effortlessly and wishing I could just say something. In fact before conversations became a problem I firstly had to learn how to talk loudly before I could move on to learning how to hold a conversation. "Speak up, I can't hear you." Every bloody day I had that said to me. I couldn't and still can't understand how someone with infinite confidence could just lose it all and lose all their social skills in one swift blow. I had not an ounce of confidence left and I was unbelievably self-conscious. Just the thought of attempting to flirt with someone again made me tremble uncontrollably and because I was so unbearably self-conscious of every single action I took I knew I would never be able to make an ass of myself ever again. I didn't even want people to notice me, so there would be long long periods of time I stood absolutely still hoping people wouldn't notice me if I didn't make any moves.
The paranoia made life move simply from unbearable to impossible. The fact I didn't want people to notice me and the contradicting belief that I was being constantly watched could have alone drove me insane. But it was a lot worse than that. I could not leave the house. Not even walk into the garden. I was so afraid of being assaulted again the only place that felt safe to me was my bedroom and I didn't want to leave it. Just a side note these are still current problems and I have rarely left this room over the last four years. At the beginning I was merely afraid of the type of teenagers who I had been assaulted by but over time it generalised itself to anyone I found even slightly intimidating and then in the end I was just terrified by everyone. None of this was helped by the frequent hallucinations of drunken yobs outside the house shouting they were going to kill me in the middle of the night. That was the point I started sleeping with a knife in my hand. If I left the house I had to be taxied around by my grandfather and I could not go anywhere alone. I stopped going out, lost touch with all my friends and was left alone in my totally messed up inner world, which is not a healthy place for anyone to linger. Coping with college was an absolute nightmare.

Anyway, I'm trying to get to the point of this thread, like sometime soon. By the way, we don't get infractions or closed threads if we write too much do we??

Right, the main focus of my paranoia seemed to come out of nowhere. I don't really understand the connection it had but I know it was triggered by the assaults. I was in a relationship with someone at the time I was attacked. She wasn't exactly the most ideal person to get involved with, but I'm useless like that. She was an alcoholic, an ex-junkie and just recovering from a relationship in which she'd been physically and sexually abused. She was a severly messed up girl and I had the absurd romantic notion that I could help her move on from the past. Much to my credit I did eventually succeed. Unfortunately I was also a severly messed up guy. We loved each other, that's all that mattered to me. As a result of my fear of leaving the house she had to come round my house everytime we wanted to see each other. Because so many of my previous girlfriends had been unfaithful it became the main focus of my paranoia. I knew with 100% conviction that she was cheating on me constantly. Every time we saw each other I accused her of doing it, causing one arguement after the other. I made insecure jokes about her imaginary unfaithfulness constantly. I became possessive, over-protective and controlling. I wouldn't let her go out with her friends. For two years this continued and it destroyed our relationship. I don't even understand how we lasted so long. In the middle of those two years she attempted suicide. Her parents blamed me. Even I blamed myself because it was undeniably true. Seven months before the end things began to change, but at that point it was too late for it to help. The damage had been done. We grew distant. I became depressed and suicidal. I knew I was about to have a relapse and I knew we were coming to an end. I was having a major internal battle, trying to prevent myself from plunging into psychosis and I was losing miserably. As I grew rapidly insane, something in my mind flipped. For the first time I was flooded with awareness. I finally knew what the paranoia was. I was aware that the paranoia was in fact just paranoia, that she wasn't cheating on me and never had. I believed I'd just had a major breakthrough. Unfortunately awareness didn't make the paranoia go away. It actually made it a thousand times worse. I still knew with 100% conviction that she was being unfaithful and we continued as we always had. But now I was painfully aware, at the very same time as I believed she was genuinely unfaithful, that it was just paranoia. Can you understand what it is like to have two conflicted beliefs at the same time, believing with 100% certainty that they are both correct? It's impossible to describe. The only way I can explain is very vague. I felt myself sickenly divide, like I had two seperate versions of myself within my mind arguing with each other that their belief was right and the other's was wrong. I recieved a glimpse of what it must be like to have DID (multiple personality disorder). Each time I accused her of being unfaithful in the back of my mind I knew it was a load of bullshit, but I had no control over it. I couldn't stop myself from accusing her of it and at the same time I couldn't bear to watch what it was doing to her and what it had already done. I caused her so, so much pain. She was my entire world, the person I loved more than anyone else on the planet, yet I was destroying her and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. Over the course of our relationship I had coaxed her out of the protective shell she had created around herself and revealed this beautiful person that had been hidden away deep inside her. I taught her how to love again, I helped her heal and move on, and yet throughout it all I had constantly caused her new damage, new pain. I was just as much a pathetic peice of shit as the guy who had raped and beat her. I could see all these things and yet I just could not stop. So I did something I had no choice but to do, something I had never done before. I began to hate.
Up to that point in my life I had never hated another person, object, situation or idea. I had never believed in anything so strongly that would provoke such an intense emotion. I honestly believed I didn't have the emotional capacity for hatred. Yet I began to hate myself with a furious passion, for hurting the person I loved so much and continuing to do it. I wanted to leave her, knew I had to because she didn't deserve what I'd done to her, but I loved her too much. So I began to pray that if I could push her away enough she'd leave me by her own choice. Fortunately, I was becoming so consumed with the battle to keep my sanity that our relationship was rapidly deteriorating without much help on my part. This led to another sickening divide, one part wishing I could push her away completely, the other wishing to hold her as closely as I could and never let her go. We grew increasingly distant, we broke up, made up... broke up, made up again. I knew it was coming to an end and still the hatred grew. The constant thought I had was 'sometimes we have to set the people we love free'. Easy to think, harder to put into practice. Her birthday arrived and we spent it together. We were meant to spend it together entirely but she pleaded to let me let her go out with her friends for the night. For the first time I relented, because I was changing and the paranoia was growing smaller. I figured I could suffer at least one night of intense worry that she'd cheat on me. It was her birthday after all. As it turned out it was the most stupid thing I'd ever done in my entire life. If I had been just that little bit extra paranoid that day it could have been avoided. It is the reason I blame myself. She was raped that night by three teenagers.

And so it was that I discovered that I did in fact have a quite healthy emotional capacity for hatred. Not just for myself but also for those three sick fucking scumbags. If I ever discovered who they were I would kill them. I would make them suffer three times over before taking their lives for the three doses of suffering they inflicted on her that night, her goddamn birthday. The thought that haunted me for the next six months was this: they took turns with her.

The effect her rape had on me is the second worst thing I have ever been through in my life. This was the girl I loved so much, who I shared all my intimacy with, who meant the world to me and they came along and violated her in the worst way I could possibly imagine. In many ways I also felt I had been raped. I can't say with any true clarity the torture I went through, the things it made me feel because it was so complicated. I can't even begin to imagine the way she felt about it. I didn't even have the opportunity to talk with her about it because the day after her birthday was the last time I ever saw her. For the next six months I laid curled in a ball and cried. I cried so hard I thought my heart would physically burst. There were times I felt that I wasn't just crying my eyes out, I was actually crying out of every pore in my body. For the next month she was confined at home because her parents would not allow her out. I pulled myself together enough to talk to her on the phone everyday but much of what we said was meaningless. Other than that I cried. A month had passed, I hadn't seen her, we spoke everyday over the phone and then out of nowhere we broke up for no reason. I let it happen. I knew it was over. I was too numb. We cried over the phone together, told each other how much we loved each other and said our last goodbyes.

I broke shortly after. All the trauma was too much to take for a normal person, let alone a schizophrenic. I think in the end I just let it happen. I didn't fight it. To be honest I think it was a relief. At least with schizophrenia I was back on familiar grounds. I relapsed and entered the dark void that is psychosis. The self-hate grew. I began to encourage it and let it control every aspect of my life. I was self-destructing and was fully aware of the fact. I did everything to facilitate it, welcomed it, revelled in it. I wanted it to kill me. The quicker that happened the better. By the end I could sink no further. Suicide was the only option at that point and I'd done everything to make sure it had happened. Death was so inviting as it had been for many years. Death was practically knocking at the door and it wished to claim me. I was more than happy to let it.

Unfortunately this ends with a bit of an anti-climax. I reached the point I could go no further and it all suddenly disappeared. The self-hatred was gone, my desperate attempt at self-destruction was wasted. It was all for nothing. My mind was preparing me for a new kind of madness, and taking a short refreshing breathe before plunging me back down the dark paths of insanity. But, that is another story altogether and I think I've written far too much as it is. So there you go, my brief explanation of my experience concerning self-hatred. So how about yours? I would love to hear about it, so post, post, post!

Thanks xXx

Lost in the darkness
Hoping for a sign
Instead there's only silence
Can't you hear my screams?
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Old March 4th, 2008, 03:03 PM   #2
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Join Date: March 4, 2008
Location: england
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Default Re: Self-hatred

Ive had a pretty messed up life as most people would say. I grew up with my dad having terminal cancer so it obviously put me far ahead of people. Mentally im 5 years older than my actual age, if that puts it into perspective. When I was young, I developed anxiety, severe insomnia, and a little later when I was around 9, I got depression. I never really thought much of it to begin with, but Ive always been extreamly paranoid. Theres a constant feeling that theres someone talking about me, plotting against me, that type of thing. Im also extreamly pessimistic. No matter what the situation I always look at the worst. I feel guilty for absolutely eveything I say or do. Even if it had nothing to do with me I feel bad for one thing or another. I was sexually abused when I was about 6. I never really thought much of it a year later. Its completely out of my life and doesnt really affect anything I do. Im open about my life and Im currently curious about having Schizophrenia, as it would explain a lot of the problems I have now. When I was around 10, I got into self-harm. Cutting, burning, hitting things. That kind of thing. The two reasons? 1. So I dont take it out on others, 2. I physically hate who I am. I feel the only people I can talk to is my mum, yet a lot of the time I feel she doesnt understand the extent of things. I think she's trying to look on the bright side since my father died. She wants to keep our life as normal as possible, unfortunately thats not how it works. I had a pretty rough break-up not long ago and its had a big effect on me I think. Im going to the doctors soon because people are telling me I need to get checked out, everything is taking its toll.

haha, that was boring eh?

who am i to say you need me? x
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Old March 12th, 2008, 08:31 PM   #3
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Default Re: Self-hatred

you are not boring! i bet ure wonderful, warm in heart
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Old March 19th, 2008, 04:41 PM   #4
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Join Date: June 20, 2007
Location: My Mind
Gender: Female
Default Re: Self-hatred

Well you guys can certainly never complain your lives are boring!

I have an odd relationship with myself, its kinda like marmite, sometimes I love being me, sometimes I hate being me really.
The only times I hate myself, is normally to do with guilt, I have this impossible concious, that picks fault with things I say or do. I could do one bad thing and it'll taunt me for the next couple of days about it. Its horrible, because I don't know what to do.
I also get a bit ticked off with myself because of the things I've done to those closest to me (my boyfriend and best friends are normally the recipents), they are so wonderful to me, and I thank them constantly all the time, I apologise to them in hopes they'll forgive me. Because I have the in ability to forgive myself.

Thats really about it, its nothing to major really, just minor things. And like I said the self hatred is on and off, I'm quite a likeable person, so it doesn't make sence to my boyfriend why I get like I do. *Shrugs*

We're all wonderful people, we truly are, we just need to realise it.

"The greatest mistake you can make in life is to continually be afraid you will make one." - Elbert Hubbard
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