Self-Therapy, Session Two: What I Hate To Do

I hate admitting I'm wrong, so I hate apologizing - really apologizing.

I hate fighting with my Dad...who also hates apologizing. We never really make up. No resolution, no progress. No lessons learned. Time passes and eventually we move on. I hate the time between our fight and when we realize things are back to normal. I hate the cold way we greet each other during this phase. We're never rude, just completely unaffectionate. Minimal eye contact. Awkward silences. Closed doors.

I hate feeling guilty after I eat compulsively.

I hate that I read slowly and can't remember exactly what I read. "I remember concepts, not so much details," I say to make myself feel better.

I hate waiting in line.

I hate when I snore on the train and everyone sees through that cough I just faked to disguise the snore.

I hate that I can never, ever own up to a fart.

I hate that I'm not enough of a feminist to stop shaving.

I hate that I need to drink copious amounts of alcohol to feel comfortable dancing.

I hate that I stopped taking piano lessons.

I hate that I forgot all the French I ever learned.

My parents once told me a story about my childhood. When I was about 6 years old, my parents bought me a whole matching bedroom set at Sears. Excited, they cleaned and organized my room and surprised me. When they opened the door, my reaction was: "This isn't the one I wanted." I didn't say it with an angry or bratty tone, but the damage had been done. I broke their hearts, perhaps for the first time. I hate that I did that. Sure, I was young and too honest and "pure" to tell a lie, even a noble one. I've never forgiven myself for that.

I hate owing someone a phone call.

I hate that I scored below 1200 on my SATs.

I hate that I'm terrible at estimating, measuring, budgeting, and making time.

I hate 69.

I hate that I spend more time talking about myself and not enough time with my sister.

I hate that I am weak-willed and lack discipline.

I hate my acne and stretch marks.

I hate that I have such little patience with my sister.

I hate that I fear looking stupid so much that I miss out on countless opportunities.