I Hate Myself Because I Will Never Be Normal

But I also love myself without reserve

Photo by Mattia Ascenzo on Unsplash

I’ve known there was something different about me since I was a kid. I was always moody and brooding. I took things too seriously. I remember always being sad for as long as I remember. And then there was that certain pond from my childhood I knew I could drown myself in if given the chance.

I suffered throughout my teens and into my twenties before I finally saw a doctor and then I suffered for the rest of my life, I was just medicated more.

Later in life, I also accepted my neurodivergence, but to make everyone think I was normal I assigned labels, like multipotentialite and generalist, to make my proclivity for jumping from thing to thing, like a rabbit on cocaine, seem like I meant to be this way.

The truth is if I could change the person I am, I would. Most of the time, I hate what I am.

Why would I hold such hate for myself? Because my fondest wish is to be normal, and I know I never will be.

If I made a list of everything that is wrong with me — everything keeping me from being normal, it would look something like this:

1. Psychosis — I hear voices and have my whole life
2. Depression
3. Anxiety
4. Panic Attacks
5. Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) — I usually refer to myself as having multiple potentials, but the sad fact is I cannot stick to one thing for the life of me. My attention goes from one thing to the next like a ball bouncing down the stairs.
6. Suicidal ideation
7. Self-harm

These are just the things that a doctor has diagnosed me with and the things that have affected my life regularly.

But, because I have been on medication for most of my life, you have to add all the issues that prescription drugs cause, like emotional withdrawal, loss of interest in sex, erectile dysfunction, coldness towards people you love, sleep problems, weight gain, poor coping mechanisms, and much, much more.

And to make life with mental illness even more unbearable, my poor wife is developing anxiety, panic attacks, and depression of her own, and I think has a terrible case of PTSD from my suicide attempt. Unlike me, she hasn’t been diagnosed, these are only things I assign to her based on my own experience.

To say that my life has been ruined by mental illness is an understatement.

If I had been any other person than the stubborn person I am, I would have given up long ago, but something inside keeps me fighting every day. And despite everything against me, I have started to make progress toward recovery over the past few years.

I rarely sit around pitying myself.

I still have daily challenges. I am still often depressed and anxious. I still hear voices (though they are dimming). I still think about killing myself every day. I guess a huge bright spot is that I no longer self-harm, but I still carry the physical and emotional scars from the years of self-abuse.

Deep down, I still hate myself because I will never be normal, but I am doing what I can to still love myself for the person I am. I know I can’t expect some magic elixir to come along and cure all that ails me, so I am learning to live with the challenges that I have and am trying to have a fulfilling life despite the issues.

I guess one day, the hate I feel for myself will fade, especially since the whole idea of “normal” is a joke anyway. I mean, what is normal? Can anyone say they can conform to the ideal of normal that we have for ourselves?

When I say normal, I think of someone who has regular emotions and can maintain composure around people or in a crowd. Normal is someone who can work, someone who can cultivate friends, someone who can go out in public and be part of a group without sticking out like a sore thumb.

Normal is something I aspire to but can’t actually define completely. It’s a feeling you get when you see someone, and they look like they have it all together. It’s seeing someone who looks like they have it all and you know somehow that have experienced few real challenges in life.

It would be nice to feel like I had it all together, but I do not, and I never will. It feels good to write and say that because then I can’t give excuses for why my life is the way it is. My life is what I make it, and I know I can be a success in life, financially, and in my relationships. I know I can be the best version of myself because I will not give up until I finally get to a point where I feel like I don’t hate myself anymore for not being normal.

I know I can be who I want to be; I just have to try harder.

I love myself after all.