A self-hating narcissist.

I love me like I hate me.

(Image found on this website)

This is gonna be a bit different, so buckle-up or nope-out, it’s your call. 

Lessgoo.

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On one fine rainy day, I thought-up an interesting theory on ‘narcissism’; the inspiration for it sprouted from a line I fleetingly came across in the book A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (by the way, if you ever plan on reading this novel: MAJOR trigger warning, it’s not for the faint minded). 

One of the characters in the story (JB, his name is) mentions something called a “Narcissists Guide to Self-Hatred” — a paradoxical phrase, right? Indeed, but no, it makes total fucking sense. 

Why?

Well, you see, self-haters, just like narcissists, are one of the most self-indulgent breeds of people, with a highly inflated sense of self-importance. We’re constantly thinking only about ourselves, even if it’s just to hate on ourself. And we like to think that everyone is constantly thinking about us for those same reasons too. We like to think we don’t deserve anything, just to garner pity and sympathy, and to hear others say: “Oh noo, you deserve the WORLD! You’re amazing!”. We like to think that we’re unworthy of love, so that those who do hold some amount of care and affection for us will continue to reassure us that we’re lovable. 

All in vain, all in vain. For our minds have fallen in love with the chaos of this shitty mess of emotions, and they refuse to let us believe that we’re good for anything, no matter how fucking bad it makes us feel. (Maybe we get off on that actually, I dunno.)

So yes, in that sense, narcissists (probably) come in two broad types: the (self) lovers and the (self) haters. 

Isn’t that amusing? 

Sputnik Sweetheart by Murakami, another beautiful book, spoke about themes of loneliness and longing. I could kind of relate. Not really with the characters, but with some of the things they were feeling or going through from time-to-time. Actually, the idea of writing my thoughts down like this in a jumpy manner came from that book itself. One of the main characters (Sumire), she writes down all her (final) inner thoughts down in some documents hidden from the eyes of the world, before she mysteriously disappears into nothingness, never to come back. I keep thinking about that. Where could she have gone? Did she kill herself? Probably. But no. That answer’s too easy. But then again, why can’t it be easy?. Interesting book, that one. 

I took some inspiration from the general atmosphere and tone in that book to write a story for my own newsletter: A teacup of coffee. I am not sure if anyone really even read it, but I enjoyed writing it a lot. A change of style, theme and scenery. A little more messy. A little more untidy. A little more rough. A little more random. A little more open-ended and imperfect. A little more meaningless, yet meaningful, depending on each person’s interpretation of it. I liked it (if I can say so myself).

When you have a self-hating mind, it’s like you’re on a leash. And you constantly feel like a piece of shit that needs to be punished. For example, I take out my anger in the gym and in the pool, although swimming is more of a peaceful and therapeutic activity where I introspect and like to allow my thoughts to ebb and flow with the chlorine-scented water. 

Living this way, and thinking this way… it can’t be okay, far from it actually, it’s quite toxic.

But I know, it’s all on me. All on me. 

Both the poison and the antidote is (in) my mind.

Realising and taking responsibility are good first steps, but what’s more important is what I do next.

Right now, I’m getting too wrapped up in blaming myself. Simply because it’s easier, and though I hate to admit this, it sometimes feels good. It feels good to be pitiful and pathetic, to be sad, feel helpless, relinquish control, and do nothing. 

What I need to do, though, is to save myself. I need to save myself. I need to save myself. I know I can. I know I can. How?, I know I know that too.

Then what’s stopping me…?

To answer simply: I’m stopping me, because I love hating me. And because I love hating me, I’m stopping me. It’s a vicious loop.

I need a fix. And I truly believe there’s no problem that can’t be fixed. So if I’m the problem, I must fix me. 

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You guys.

This is a very personal piece of writing and all of these opinions are solely mine. I had held onto it for a long time and I was (still am) very hesitant to post something like it. Partly because I think it’s kinda crappy writing (I mean, it’s basically just a written rant, to put it politely) and partly because it makes me sound a bit deranged. 

But I was inspired to publish it after reading something my friend Christine wrote in one of her very recent newsletter issues: 

“I want to capture my personal story to help others feel less alone. Whether that's sharing my career change, building my business, or progressing through my late 20s… 

Maybe you're going through the same things as me and want someone to relate to”.

And also because I thought: Fuck it, it’s my newsletter, I’ll post whatever the hell I want. :)

So yes, Red Pills & Doughnuts is gonna be an unpredictable ride. I declare it. It’s official. But I guess (hope?) that’ll only make it more intriguing as a read.

If you could relate, let me know. If not, let me know that too. 

P.S. Like what you read?