Confronting the Ghosts of Self-Hatred’s Past

"loneliness and isolation were merely ghosts left by a former version of myself… a mirage created by my mind to navigate the grief I felt for my former academic and social self.”

My life has always followed some sort of script. At the very least, an outline. But that gilded, ink-pressed paper fell into mud some time ago, and now, after being ilegible for several years, I walk through life questioning whether the sense of purpose I once determined for myself is still achievable. What a rotten feeling, to see your plans decay beneath the very eyes that once envisioned a bright future. Branches of trees once representing hopeful life paths now dastardly trap you in thoughts of insufficiency and uselessness, reorienting roots to keep you down, not lift you up. 

While I have struggled to wield my axe in the past, willpower is a tool I must practice daily if I wish to break free of the confines my brain has set for itself over several years. Some days, of course, the blade is duller and must be sharpened with rest and care. Other times, it gleams and attacks with the sunrise. This school year, as I returned to a place I had quite literally run from just a few years ago, now among new peers, I fought through the roots of self-doubt, immense self-criticism, suppression of my general self, and feelings of loneliness and isolation. But these roots were merely ghosts left by a former version of myself. Ghosts, which, like my English class’ Hamlet feigned, were ultimately a mirage created by my mind to navigate the grief I felt for my former academic and social self. 

My previous negative habits threatened to limit my present. Friendship, for example, was my most feared topic. Freshman and sophomore year, my struggles thrived in self-induced isolation. Scarred by past fallings out and not wanting to be hurt again, I approached my return to the school with my social life considered flawed, and planned to avoid friendship entirely. In other words, I was willing to sacrifice a future of joy and reinstitution of hope at the mere fear and small prospect that things would come crashing down again. Oh, how happy I am to have made the right decision - to cut through the roots and vines. Although my fear of problems could have created the very issues I sought to avoid, I instead found the harmony of surrounding myself with those who lifted me and reminded me that friendship is something meant to enhance life, not create stress and self-doubt. 

My classrooms held a similar experience. While I have always been one of the first to raise my hand, I believed sticking to silence would help me avoid stares and perceived judgment. Avoidance was my new norm, academically and socially, perpetuating an irksome feeling I was cheating myself of something greater. Sitting in silence felt ridiculous, though, while others freely shared their thoughts on a whim. I was allowing the anxious critics in my head to grow. With my voluntary code of silence, I let the doubt, the worry, the fear, and avoidance win. By staying quiet - by letting myself believe my expression and opinion were the root of my troubles - I was making myself miserable. Every person who told me to be quiet before, to quell my excitement, to avoid what made me happy - I let them win. People who did not walk in the same building as me, who even lived in different states, I somehow still let hold my marionette strings. After so long, I realized the only person responsible for how I acted and how far I let myself reach…was me. I took my now finely-tuned strength and cut their strings, the strings I previously placed in their very hands. An act extending beyond the classrooms, I felt a sense of freedom and a desire to return to the general aspects of my personality and interests that brought me raw joy. It wasn’t even about proving “them” wrong anymore; it was simply about treating myself with respect and compassion for the first time. Giving myself the same grace I extended to friends was such a foreign feeling that it was ultimately a sign I was doing something right. In residential, one of my best friends told me “progress cannot be made in the comfort zone”, indeed, we must become uncomfortable to make something normal again if we once shunned it. Naturally, my anxiety kept provoking doubt, but the fact that I felt doubt about finally doing what I knew was right for me finally helped me be sure I was making the right decision. Putting oneself first is never easy, but it makes a lifetime of difference. 

Prioritizing yourself is not selfish, but can be life-changing. Choosing to do so—especially in situations that once overwhelmed me—has given me the strength to advocate for my needs and find my place in unfamiliar social settings. Doubts still surface from time to time, but the self-respect I’ve built allows me to step back, challenge those thoughts, and distinguish between harsh self-judgment and reality.