Today I Hate Everyone

 I will not be posting anything to help you through your illness today. Today is only about how I feel. And today I hate everyone.

I hate corporations that want to have "human rights" when they are not humans; they are only run by humans. I hate the government who gave them those rights. I hate the government that wants to take them away from me. I hate every employer who won't hire me because of my degrees or because of my poor credit rating. I hate everyone who looks down on me because of my mental and physical health, my obesity, my age, my sex, my liberal beliefs, my I.Q., my compassion, and about a hundred other things I don't want to list. I hate them all.

I hate my friends, the ones I love and the ones that are just Facebook friends. I hate the friends who are only my friends because we went to high school together. I hate the friends who are shocked when they find out that I believe love is love, everyone deserves to feel comfortable in a bathroom, no one should go hungry, everyone deserves shelter and health care. I hate the friends who say they understand and then post horrible memes about my beliefs. I hate the friends who claim to believe as I do, but get angry when I disagree. I hate the friends I love because I feel undeserving of them.

I hate my family. I hate my extended family because they don't know me and really don't want to know me, just look down on me. I hate my extended family because I once believed that they weren't racist or homophobic or xenophobic or misogynistic, but they are. I hate my extended family because the ones who aren't like this, do nothing to stand up for me when the others are horrible.

I hate my niece. I hate her because I have been helping to raise her since she was 3-years-old, but she only thinks of my mother as a mother figure to her. I hate that she had a boyfriend in high school who told her ugly things about me and the rest of our family to keep her away from us.  I hate her for believing him. I hate her because, on some level, she still believes the stuff about me. I hate her for sending flowers to my mom on Mother's Day, but not even sending me a hello message on Facebook. I hate her for making me cry.

I hate my brother. I hate him because when I said I was going to be "all in" to help him with his business, he decided to drop out of making any decision concerning it. I hate him because he doesn't realize that though I accept only a $100.00 a week allowance to help him in the office and cook and clean, it's not enough to live. I hate that he thinks that the only reason I don't have a life is because of my health, instead of my desire to be as small a financial burden on him as possible. I hate that he is an alcoholic. I hate that he spends so much money on booze, and doesn't see how it is hurting him and the business. I hate that he wants me to make the business decisions, but then doesn't follow my advice or the protocols I put into place. I hate that he puts me on ignore.

I hate my father. I hate him because he doesn't understand how he sometimes hurts me with the jokes he makes to cheer me up. I hate him because he doesn't understand how embarrassing it is and how much like a failure I feel when I ask him for financial help: he just thinks he's taking care of his family, doing his job. I hate that at 45 I am still his "little girl."

I hate my mother. I hate her because I have been suffering from depression and anxiety since I was 17 years old, and she never realized it. I hate that she never saw through the acting to the real person within. I hate that she suffers from the same illnesses, but she never saw them in me. I hate that every time I try to talk to her about my therapy, she changes the subject. I hate that she, inadvertently, makes me feel ashamed to be me. I hate that she tries to make me "feel better" when what I need to do is just acknowledge my feelings and work through it, use the tools I am learning. I hate that she is the best friend I have, the only one I want to talk to about what's going on, but now I feel uncomfortable doing so. I hate her because I feel like I make her uncomfortable when I mention therapy or depression or anxiety or my emotions or my "tools" or anything that has to do with anything not good. I hate her because when I confronted her last week about her ignoring my therapy, she said, "I always thought you were stronger." I hate her because I know she meant stronger than she is, but that's not what she said.

The only things I don't hate right now are my animals. Duke, Castiel, and especially Hermione keep me alive.