Feeding the Fire (Not the Shame)

I haven’t written in two weeks.

Not because I don’t have anything to say—but because the old perfectionist goblins crawled in through the cracks again. The ones that say: "If this isn’t perfect, don’t bother." "If this won’t perform, what’s the point?" "If you’re not making progress, you’re failing."

It’s wild how quickly that narrative turns healing into a performance. How quickly the fire in your belly becomes a burn instead of a spark.

So I’m here. Writing again. But not for an audience. For me. For the quiet part of me that still hates herself—and the louder part of me that wants to understand why. Oh, and the little Heather inside that’s jumping up and down screaming, “I just want to be loved for who I am!”

Where the Hatred Hides

Self-hatred doesn’t always sound like "I hate myself."
Sometimes it sounds like:

• "Why can’t I just get it together?"

• "No one else needs this much time or rest."

• "I’m such a mess."

• "This is embarrassing."

It dresses itself up as discipline. As accountability. As realism. But it’s not. It’s fear. Shame. Inheritance.

Because I wasn’t born hating myself. None of us were. That part got built over time. Layered on by caregivers who meant well but modeled conditional love. By a culture that treats productivity as proof of worth. By a society that sees fatness as failure, softness as weakness, sensitivity as something to grow out of.

And eventually, those outside voices became my own. Internalized. Inescapable. Familiar.

What It Costs

Self-hatred isn’t passive. It’s expensive.
It drains my energy, my clarity, my momentum.
It shows up as procrastination, but it’s not laziness. It’s protection.

If I hate myself first, maybe the world can’t hurt me as badly. Maybe failure will sting less if I never expected success to begin with. Maybe shame will feel like home if I keep choosing it.

But I’m tired of that logic. It’s not keeping me safe. It’s keeping me small. It’s causing me to self-abandon, and self-sabotage.

Revelation: An ADHD Podcast, a THC Drink, and a Truth Bomb

I’m here because I had a revelation today. Jose and I were on the couch watching a bit of the Late Bloomers Podcast (Youtube: ADHD Love)—if you need healing, check them out—but be prepared, you might need tissues, or a journal, or a pillow to scream into! Especially the episode we watched today—STOP HATING YOURSELF: Why your worst enemy might live in your own head.

Let me tell you. I followed my mother right down that path of self-hatred, and it’s so engrained that every time my husband has brought it up to me over the course of our 7 years together, I’ve told him, “I don’t internalize the mean things I say to myself.”

So today, during the episode, we’re talking about him asking me why I’d asked him a question, and if I could have stopped and thought about how it would impact him before I asked the question, because it’s the kind of thing he’s asked me before and I’ve reacted poorly to.

This gave me a pause, which is new—because Heather doesn’t pause, Heather reacts—quickly, and defensively. But I stopped and really thought about his request.

I realized that this is something I regularly do with Jose. Ask him to consider changing his tone, his body language, the words he’s using, the topic he’s broaching, etc. Because I read his curiosity and his active listening as anger, or irritation, or frustration. And if he’s irritated, or frustrated—it’s always about me, or something I’ve done.

I said, you know, I haven’t been fair to you—I’ve asked you for a lot of accommodations because of my poor mental health, my emotional dysregulation, my frazzled nervous system, my traumatic past, etc.—and I never really thought about just how difficult that must be. That it’s not fair—that I’ve asked you to teach me how to be a better communicator—and then when I feel triggered—I say, “you’re doing it wrong.” Or cry and run away. Or scream and run away.

Which really wasn’t the point of the story, but I digress.

Anyhow, we started talking about how much progress I’ve made in the last 6 months, in being able to process my emotions, and talk about things longer without hitting a trigger and shutting down. And I said, “yeah, but I’m high right now.” And he points at the screen, where Rich and Rox are talking about all the ways in which self-hatred shows up, and says something to the effect of, there you go—belittling the growth you’ve made.

And he was right. I do that kind of thing—I apologize all of the time, almost automatically, for minor inconveniences to other people. People pleasing? Please! I’m the queen of fawning. Bambi has nothing on me. Over-explaining or feeling that I have to justify myself? How exactly have I never realized that I’ve spent 45 years on this earth apologizing for my entire existence?

I may have laid down and cried while watching the rest of that episode. And Jose may or may not have made me another THC drink.

What I'm Trying Instead

I’m not forcing myself to love every part of me yet. That doesn’t feel honest. But I can try this:

• I can sit with the part of me that hates myself without rushing to silence her.

• I can listen, gently, and ask: "What are you trying to protect me from?"

• I can notice when I’m slipping into shame and offer myself curiosity instead.

And when I can’t offer kindness, I can at least offer a pause. A breath. A moment of not making it worse.

The Fire in My Belly

It’s back. That spark. The part of me that wants to keep going. Not perfectly, not constantly, but honestly.

I’m not backsliding. I’m recalibrating.
And if I can write this? Then I’m not stuck. I’m still moving. Still healing.

The part of me that hates myself may not go away overnight. But she’s not in charge anymore.

I’m here. On the horse. Holding the reins.

Let’s ride.

A Gentle Close

If any part of this hit home, you’re not alone. Maybe you’ve spent years blaming your body, belittling your progress, or bending yourself into shapes that made others more comfortable. Maybe you're only just now noticing the sound of your own inner critic—and realizing she sounds a lot like someone you grew up with.

You don’t need to fix it all today. But you can get curious.

Leftovers from the Shame Buffet (a.k.a. Journal Prompt):

"What’s one way I’ve mistaken protection for self-hatred? What was my body or mind trying to keep me safe from?"

Write for five minutes. No editing. No censoring. Just curiosity.

Emergency Snack Pack for When You’re Spiraling:

5-4-3-2-1 Sensory Reset (with a twist):

• 5 things you can see that feel safe, soft, or soothing

• 4 things you can touch that remind you you're allowed to take up space

• 3 things you can hear that calm you (or add a song that helps)

• 2 things you can smell that feel grounding or familiar

• 1 thing you’re proud of for surviving—even if it’s just today

Take a breath after each one. Let your body catch up with your truth.

You're not behind. You're becoming.