The Privilege of Understanding Self-Loathing
I’m starting to think self-loathing, like braces, doesn’t look as cute the older you get. That’s because as you get older—ideally, anyway—you find your station, your purpose. You’ve pruned back the dead branches and settled nicely into the garden you’ve made for yourself. It could be a job, a family, friends, hobbies, passions. You’ve been at this for half your life, you’ve orchestrated all of this, and you don’t hate it. Some of it you actually enjoy. So, why all the self-loathing?
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.