Why It's So Hard to Like Yourself (And Why I Do Anyway)
The voice that tells you you're not good enough? It's not yours. Someone gave it to you. And you can give it back.
Babies don’t hate themselves.
Kids don’t wake up thinking they’re worthless. They don’t look in the mirror and decide something is fundamentally wrong with them. They don’t apologize for existing.
Self hatred is taught. Carefully. Repeatedly. By people who benefit from you believing you’re less than you are.
And once it’s installed? It runs like malware in the background of everything you do.
You second guess every decision. You apologize for taking up space. You accept mistreatment because you think you deserve it. You let people walk all over you because you believe anyone who tolerates you is doing you a favor.
I know because last year, I was so convinced I was the problem that I didn’t want to be alive anymore.
Not because of one specific thing. But because I’d spent so long believing every voice that told me I was broken, confused, too sensitive, too difficult, that I genuinely thought the world would be better off without me in it.
I’m writing this because I was wrong. And if you’re carrying that same weight right now, you’re wrong too.
Here’s what I figured out: That voice isn’t yours. It’s an echo. Someone else said it first, and you’ve been repeating it so long you forgot it wasn’t yours to begin with.
Where Self Hatred Actually Starts
Nobody wakes up one day and decides to hate themselves.
It gets built. Brick by brick. By people who need you to believe you’re less than you are so they can control you, use you, or feel better about themselves.
Usually it’s someone in a position of power. A parent. A teacher. A boss. A partner. A therapist. Someone whose opinion matters because they control something you need. Love. Money. Your job. Your sense of safety. Your understanding of your own mind.
They don’t usually say “you’re worthless” directly. That would be too obvious.
Instead, they say things that make you arrive at that conclusion yourself.
“You’re too sensitive.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“Are you sure you remember that correctly?”
“Everyone else gets it. Why don’t you?”
“I’m just trying to help you.”
“You should be grateful.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
Notice how reasonable these sound? How caring, even?
That’s the trick. Self hatred doesn’t get installed through obvious cruelty. It gets installed through thousands of small suggestions that something about you is wrong. Your perception. Your memory. Your reactions. Your needs.
And because these messages come from people who are supposed to care about you, you believe them.
You start thinking: If this many people are saying something is wrong with me, maybe something really is wrong with me.
That’s not insight. That’s gaslighting that worked exactly as intended.
The Voices That Aren’t Yours
Here’s how you know if a voice is yours or someone else’s:
Your actual voice sounds like curiosity. “I wonder why that happened.” “What can I learn from this?” “How do I want to handle this?”
Someone else’s voice sounds like a prosecutor.
“You always fuck this up.”
“Nobody actually likes you.”
“You’re too much.”
“You’re not enough.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Notice the difference?
One asks questions. The other delivers verdicts.
One leaves room for you to be human. The other insists you’re fundamentally defective.
I spent years carrying voices that weren’t mine. A manager who tried to make me believe my brain worked wrong because I couldn’t follow vague standards he refused to define. A therapist who convinced me I was too broken to trust my own memory about what was happening to me.
When I’d ask for clarity, I’d get: “You’re not getting it. Maybe you’re not in the right headspace.”
When I’d question inconsistencies, I’d hear: “You have memory gaps. You might not remember what really happened.”
Both positioned themselves as the authority on my reality. And because I have ADHD, because I do sometimes forget where I parked or lose track of what day it is, I believed them when they said my perception was the problem.
Except it wasn’t.
My ADHD makes me forget where I put my keys. It doesn’t make me hallucinate entire patterns of abuse. It doesn’t make me imagine financial extraction or workplace discrimination or fabricated threats.
When I finally documented everything, hired a private investigator, got external verification, I realized: My perception was fine. Their lies were the problem.
But by that point, I’d internalized the voice that said “you can’t trust yourself.”
That voice almost killed me. Literally. Because if you can’t trust yourself to accurately assess your own experience, what’s the point of being alive?
“Self hatred isn’t something you develop on your own. It’s something someone installs in you, line by line, until you can’t remember what your own voice sounds like anymore.”
How They Use Your Existing Wounds
Here’s the really fucked up part: Predators don’t create insecurity from scratch. They’re not that creative.
They find the wounds that already exist and pour salt in them.
Got ADHD? They’ll make every disagreement about your inability to focus or remember correctly.
In recovery? They’ll position your sobriety as evidence you’re damaged goods.
Have anxiety? They’ll call you paranoid when you notice red flags.
Been hurt before? They’ll say you have trust issues when you ask for basic proof.
Grew up in chaos? They’ll accuse you of creating drama when you react to their abuse.
They take the thing you’re already insecure about and weaponize it. They make your vulnerability the reason you can’t be trusted to assess your own experience.
And because you already worried about that thing, you believe them.
I worried my ADHD made me miss obvious things. So when someone told me “everyone else understands this, why don’t you?” I believed them.
I worried my addiction history meant my judgment was permanently fucked. So when someone said “you can’t trust your own perception,” I believed them.
I worried my childhood trauma made me see threats that weren’t there. So when someone said “you’re being paranoid,” I believed them.
Those weren’t my conclusions. Those were their weapons. And I picked them up and turned them on myself.
The Moment You Accept the Abuse
The most dangerous thing about self hatred isn’t hating yourself.
It’s believing you deserve to be hurt.
When someone mistreats you and your first thought is “what did I do to cause this?” instead of “why the fuck did they do that to me?” - that’s when you know the programming is complete.
You stop questioning their behavior. You start managing your own. You walk on eggshells. You apologize for things that aren’t your fault. You make yourself smaller so you don’t trigger their criticism.
You become grateful for the absence of abuse instead of expecting basic human decency as a baseline.
Last summer, I was paying someone thousands of dollars every few days, liquidating my retirement accounts, isolated from everyone who gave a shit about me, having daily panic attacks, barely eating.
And I thought: Maybe I deserve this.
Maybe everyone who’s ever hurt me saw something broken in me that justified it. Maybe I’m the common denominator in all my failed relationships and lost jobs. Maybe the problem really is me.
Maybe the world would be better off if I just wasn’t in it anymore.
That thought didn’t come from nowhere. It came from years of people telling me in subtle and not-so-subtle ways that I was the problem. That my brain didn’t work right. That my perception was off. That I should be grateful anyone put up with me.
I believed them so completely that I couldn’t see another option.
That’s what self hatred does. It doesn’t just make you feel bad. It makes you accept being destroyed as appropriate.
The Day I Decided They Were Wrong
You know what saved my life?
Not someone telling me I was worth saving. Not a breakthrough in therapy. Not a sudden realization that I mattered.
What saved me was getting so tired of being told I was wrong that I decided to prove it one way or another.
I hired a private investigator. Not because I was certain I was right. But because I was exhausted from being told I was crazy without any proof.
The investigator came back with a 24 page report. Every single thing I’d been told was a lie. Every threat was fabricated. Every claim was false. The conspiracy I’d been told I was too paranoid to see clearly? Didn’t exist.
My perception was accurate. The threats were fake. I wasn’t confused. I was being lied to.
Reading that report didn’t just validate my experience. It shattered the voice that told me I couldn’t trust myself.
And once that voice broke, all the other voices started to crack too.
“You’re not thinking clearly.” False. I was thinking very clearly. They were lying very convincingly.
“You’re too sensitive.” False. I was having a normal human response to being abused.
“You should be grateful.” False. I should be fucking furious.
“You’re the problem.” False. They were the problem, and they’d convinced me to carry the blame for it.
The facts didn’t match the voices in my head.
So I started questioning where those voices came from.
Turns out? None of them were mine.
“The voice that tells you you’re not good enough isn’t your internal monologue. It’s someone else’s script you memorized so well you forgot who wrote it.”
Why I Like Myself Now (And Why You Should Too)
I don’t feel good all the time.
I have ADHD. Some days my brain is a beautiful disaster. Some days it’s just a disaster.
I’m in recovery. I still think about drinking when shit gets hard.
I have trauma. I still wake up from nightmares. I still flinch at things that shouldn’t scare me.
I was suicidal less than a year ago. That doesn’t just go away because I figured some shit out.
But here’s what changed:
I stopped confusing “feeling bad” with “being bad.”
Feeling bad is weather. It’s temporary. It passes.
Hating yourself is climate. It’s the default setting that colors everything.
Feeling bad says “today is really fucking hard.”
Hating yourself says “I deserve today being hard.”
Feeling bad says “I fucked up.”
Hating yourself says “I am the fuckup.”
I don’t hate myself anymore because I stopped believing voices that were installed by people who needed me small, confused, and controllable.
I like myself because I survived people who tried to convince me I wasn’t worth surviving. And then I fought back instead of disappearing.
I like myself because my ADHD makes me interesting, not broken. Yeah, I forget where I parked. But I also notice patterns most people miss and hyperfocus on shit I care about in ways neurotypical people can’t.
I like myself because being in recovery means I fight my own brain chemistry daily and win. That’s not weakness. That’s fucking resilience.
I like myself because I can make people laugh about the darkest shit imaginable. That’s valuable. That’s rare.
I like myself because I still give a shit about people even when they don’t deserve it. Even when it costs me. That’s not stupidity. That’s humanity.
I like myself because I tell the truth even when lying would be easier, safer, more profitable.
I like myself because last year I wanted to die and this year I’m writing articles trying to convince you to stay alive too.
I like myself because I decided to.
Not because I earned it. Not because I fixed everything. Not because I became perfect or healed or put together.
Because I decided the alternative - believing voices installed by people who hurt me - was more unbearable than the risk of being wrong about my own worth.
And I’m not wrong.
Neither are you.
How to Give the Voices Back
If you’re carrying voices that don’t belong to you, here’s how to identify them and return them to sender.
Ask: Who said this first?
When the voice in your head says “you’re not good enough,” stop and trace it back.
Who said that to you? A parent? A partner? A boss? A friend who wasn’t actually a friend?
Someone planted that seed. Once you identify who, you can separate their bullshit assessment from your actual truth.
Check the evidence.
Is this voice backed by facts or just feelings someone installed?
“You’re terrible at your job.” What do your actual reviews say?
“Nobody likes you.” Who specifically said that, or is it just fear?
“You always ruin everything.” Name five specific things you’ve actually ruined. Not things that went wrong. Things you personally destroyed through intentional action.
Most self hatred crumbles under basic scrutiny. Because it’s not based on reality. It’s based on someone else’s agenda.
Notice who benefits from you believing this.
Seriously. Who wins if you hate yourself?
Who gets to treat you like shit without consequences? Who avoids accountability because you’re too busy blaming yourself? Who maintains control because you don’t trust your own judgment?
Self hatred serves someone. Figure out who. Then stop doing their work for them.
Separate feeling bad from being bad.
You can have the worst day of your life and still be a fundamentally good person.
You can make mistakes and still have value.
You can struggle with mental health, addiction, trauma, whatever, and still deserve basic human respect.
Your circumstances don’t determine your worth. Your worst moments don’t define you.
Practice saying “I like myself” until it stops feeling like a lie.
This will feel fake as hell at first. Do it anyway.
You spent years practicing “I’m not good enough.” You got really good at that voice. You believe it reflexively.
Now practice the other one.
“I like myself.”
“I’m doing my best and my best is enough.”
“I deserve respect.”
Say it in the mirror. Say it out loud. Say it in your head. Say it until your brain starts to believe you might not be full of shit.
Get someone outside your head to verify reality.
Sometimes you can’t fight the voices alone. That’s not weakness. That’s being smart enough to know when you need backup.
A friend who knew you before this relationship started. A therapist who isn’t the one hurting you. Old journals that show how you used to think. Someone who can look at the situation objectively and say: “No. You’re not the problem. They are.”
I needed a private investigator. You might need something different. But you probably need something.
Watch how people respond when you question them.
This one’s crucial.
Honesty sounds like: “You’re right, let me explain.” “I can see why you’d think that.” “Here’s the evidence.”
Gaslighting sounds like: “You don’t trust me?” “You’re being too sensitive.” “After everything I’ve done for you?” “This is your anxiety talking.”
If someone responds to your questions by attacking your credibility instead of answering the question, they’re lying.
If someone uses your vulnerability as a weapon, they’re the enemy.
Your ADHD. Your PTSD. Your depression. Your anxiety. Your history. Your struggles.
If someone is using these things to dismiss your concerns, invalidate your experience, or justify their mistreatment of you, they’re not helping you. They’re abusing you.
And you don’t owe abusers shit.
The Truth Nobody Wants to Say Out Loud
Self hatred is not a personality flaw you were born with.
It’s an injury someone gave you. And then convinced you that you did it to yourself.
Someone told you that you weren’t good enough. You believed them because they had power over you or because you loved them or because they were supposed to protect you.
But that voice - the one that says you’re worthless, broken, too much, not enough, better off dead - that’s not yours.
It never was.
It belongs to everyone who found it easier to make you the problem than address their own behavior. Everyone who needed you small so they could feel big. Everyone who benefited from you doubting yourself so you wouldn’t question them.
You’ve been carrying their shame for them. You’ve been doing their emotional labor. You’ve been accepting their verdict as truth.
You can stop now.
You can decide right now, in this moment, that you like yourself.
You don’t need permission. You don’t need to earn it by being perfect or fixing everything or proving yourself worthy.
You just need to recognize that the voices telling you you’re not enough are lying. And they always have been.
Why I’m Writing This
Last year I didn’t want to be alive.
This year I’m fighting two lawsuits, writing articles about abuse, doing standup comedy about the darkest shit imaginable, and trying to convince strangers on the internet that they’re worth keeping alive.
Not because I figured everything out. Not because I’m healed or whole or have my shit together.
Because I decided that the voices installed by people who hurt me don’t get to write the ending to my story.
And they don’t get to write yours either.
If you’re reading this and you hate yourself, I need you to understand something: That hatred isn’t coming from you. It’s coming from everyone who needed you to believe you were less than you are.
They were wrong.
You’re not too sensitive. You’re responding appropriately to being hurt.
You’re not crazy. You’re being gaslit.
You’re not the problem. You’re being blamed for someone else’s behavior.
You’re not better off dead. You’re just so tired from carrying voices that don’t belong to you that you can’t imagine another option.
There is another option.
You can like yourself. Right now. Today. Not after you fix everything or become perfect or prove yourself worthy.
Just because you decided to.
That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
Someone installed a voice in you that says you’re not enough. You can uninstall it. You can replace it. You can tell it to go fuck itself and mean it.
I like myself. Not because I’m flawless. But because I survived people who tried to convince me I wasn’t worth surviving.
You survived too. That means something. That means everything.
Start there.
—Cody Taymore
Kill The Silence
Thank you for this!!!
......Someone installed a voice in you that says you’re not enough. You can uninstall it. You can replace it. You can tell it to go fuck itself and mean it.....
Your voice here is a healing gift. Thank you for choosing to stay ✨