Hating oneself

Do I hate me? No. Should I hate me? Maybe. Probably not.
Do you hate you?

It's easy to hate yourself. You know you better than anyone else in the entire world. You know every flaw, every mistake, every weakness, and every sin. You know, deep in the core of who you are, why you do what you do. Some times, you even come to a realization that you've known these things all along. Is it painful to know the "why" of your actions? It can be.

I have reason to hate myself. I have reason to hate others. The thing about me though...I've chosen to go about this another way. I've chosen to not care. I don't care about you, I don't care about me, I don't care about anyone. That's not to say I don't love people, or respect them, or *want* to care deeply for the. I just built up a defence system that forces me to not care.

I think about my son. He is probably the only person in the entire world that I am emotionally connected to. My parents, I love them, but it's not the same. If they were to die, I would be heartbroken and depressed. If Joshua were to die like those poor babies in Connecticut, I would be beyond devastated. I would most likely curl up into a massively fat ball and cry myself to death. Because he is mine, I have allowed myself to be emotionally attached to him. I don't know how I did this, it was just natural and instinctual. With others, it doesn't happen that way. I just cannot allow any one else in.

Why? It probably goes back to my childhood when abuse began. The self-loathing came after. The depression, the eating, the loneliness. It broke me. I'm broken.