I hate my inner child

[Mikhail098]

Little Mikhail was a dog. He was a masochist. He was an idiot. I must've killed him or buried him far away, years ago. Does it make sense? My inner child is separate from me. He never grew up. Little Mikhail has been gone for a long time. Who I am now feels like a mystery. I am made of organs and skin, but I don't have personhood. I am a wandering body.

Yes, the truth is I hate my inner child. I have a very angry side to me which is violent to that inner child. There is an internal turmoil and conflict within me. The war against myself wages and my body is exhausted.

I don't think Little Mikhail was ever a person. He was pathetic and hungry for love. I understand him, he was young and sick, he knew nothing. And because I understand him, I know how minuscule he was. I could never sympathize with him. I can say, "poor kid", but I will never believe it. What I believe is that Little Mikhail was a stain on the world, a mangled weed, something to get rid of.

I don't know if hating my inner child will make me a miserable person who is incapable of healing. I can't help but to hate him. I am hurting terribly. If I imagine that I have been navigating this world like a maze, then I have hit a dead end, and now I am stuck in a closet with four walls, no escape. And so I have just been fighting myself in a small room with nowhere to go.

There is a memory I find myself living in. From when I was five. Aricică, like most dogs, was kept chained up his whole life and he died this way. I had begged Mihai to let Aricică run and play, so finally he did. I wanted to run and play with Aricică, but he did not stay around. Aricică ran like a rocket the moment the chain was undone, far away. I waited a long time for Aricică to come back, I called his name, but he didn't come.

A couple days later I saw Aricică again. The neighboring property was abandoned at the time. It was dense of trees and ivy on the ground, like a small jungle. As I stood on the edge of the jungle, I saw Aricică on the other side. He was playing with two large black dogs, who had sharp ears. I was so excited, I started crossing into the "jungle" and calling his name. The stinging nettle burnt the bare skin on my legs, but I was desperate. Midway through crossing, Mihai calls for me. He is very angry. He tells me that those black dogs will kill and eat me if I go any further.

I find myself still trapped in the middle of that property. Not knowing what to do, which direction to take.

 

[.aseity]

I find myself still trapped in the middle of that property. Not knowing what to do, which direction to take.

these other places and times we go live in my therapist tells me is the world of parts and that when we go back to these worlds we are detached and dissociated from the present world now. he tells me a good goal is to invite those parts into my world rather than me going into their's. that they live there and are always in the trauma.

i relate and empathize with you. i do not have a fondness for myself, the child i once was, nor do i sense any from him. as far as i know, these other parts within me do not know or agree to my life and would seek to dismantle it or destroy me given the chance. i too have harbored hatred and it serves it's purpose well. like a thick armor. and there are many more men than you or i who understand this hate. it is reinforced but not impenetrable.

i do not think we can force ourselves to accept or embrace that child part of ourselves. it is far to complicated. everything has a place and for anything belonging to hatred must be carefully relocated. ridding ourselves of everything we hate is no cure for hatred we feel, it remains vestiges and hungry.

i wonder, what could you possibly have done as a child to fix things? to quell the helplessness.. what could you possibly do now to change that.? to lift that child from his helplessness.. the hard answer is nothing, but the ideals of hope suggest that we console that part by listening deeply and then inviting them to the present to also accept and adapt to the changes that have taken place. we are no longer that child. the child was and always will be.. the child may never grow up, but we have.. hate keeps us apart, and for reasons we can not always justify with words, it will stand as true regardless.

the child may ask for answers and solutions we can not offer. we must find the way to share a resolution. as a child, you had a neediness for your dog as for others who you hungered for attention and closeness. we should not judge or blame ourselves for such needs. your dog was miserable and you wanted to liberate him, which you we able to achieve, but when he ran away you longed to have him back. you say he died on that chain. do you feel responsible for his death because you simply wanted him back? do you feel that you should have risked danger and death to chase freedom with your dog, to run away as well? what possible resolve could there be to walk away from that moment.

with all of the following circumstances, hardships, abuse through years have been lived and survived. many new challenges to face where you are here and now, but so many issues of your past still awaiting resolution. i doubt that inner child can be bothered to task the issues you face today, unless you are adressing his issues first. that is complicated. though maybe he needs help to walk away from that difficult decision which he had no favorable choices. i think it's unfortunately common that we are in situations where we are at a loss no matter what we do, especially as children. we just have to deal with whatever and swallow our voice.

sorry about your dog. ive known a lot of dogs on chains and in cages til their death. i dont think i have anything to say that can fix any of that. your post strikes me in several ways. that stinging nettle is fierce stuff. glad im not brushing into it today.

 

[Induna]

Little Mikhail was a dog. He was a masochist. He was an idiot. I must've killed him or buried him far away, years ago. Does it make sense? My inner child is separate from me. He never grew up. Little Mikhail has been gone for a long time. Who I am now feels like a mystery. I am made of organs and skin, but I don't have personhood. I am a wandering body.

Yes, the truth is I hate my inner child. I have a very angry side to me which is violent to that inner child. There is an internal turmoil and conflict within me. The war against myself wages and my body is exhausted.

I don't think Little Mikhail was ever a person. He was pathetic and hungry for love. I understand him, he was young and sick, he knew nothing. And because I understand him, I know how minuscule he was. I could never sympathize with him. I can say, "poor kid", but I will never believe it. What I believe is that Little Mikhail was a stain on the world, a mangled weed, something to get rid of.

I don't know if hating my inner child will make me a miserable person who is incapable of healing. I can't help but to hate him. I am hurting terribly. If I imagine that I have been navigating this world like a maze, then I have hit a dead end, and now I am stuck in a closet with four walls, no escape. And so I have just been fighting myself in a small room with nowhere to go.

There is a memory I find myself living in. From when I was five. Aricică, like most dogs, was kept chained up his whole life and he died this way. I had begged Mihai to let Aricică run and play, so finally he did. I wanted to run and play with Aricică, but he did not stay around. Aricică ran like a rocket the moment the chain was undone, far away. I waited a long time for Aricică to come back, I called his name, but he didn't come.

A couple days later I saw Aricică again. The neighboring property was abandoned at the time. It was dense of trees and ivy on the ground, like a small jungle. As I stood on the edge of the jungle, I saw Aricică on the other side. He was playing with two large black dogs, who had sharp ears. I was so excited, I started crossing into the "jungle" and calling his name. The stinging nettle burnt the bare skin on my legs, but I was desperate. Midway through crossing, Mihai calls for me. He is very angry. He tells me that those black dogs will kill and eat me if I go any further.

I find myself still trapped in the middle of that property. Not knowing what to do, which direction to take.

That's a very eloquent and compelling description of how you are feeling and of how you are able to see your past actions. It must have taken quite an effort to write. Thank you for being so honest.

What jumps out at me is that the contempt and hatred you feel for your past self serve to make what you felt and experienced back then effectively invisible and unimportant at best, or so disgusting that they are not worth seeing and remembering at worst.

I get it. I really do.

Unfortunately it is very very hard to live a good life when you are cut in two and when you hate part of yourself. Just ask me how I know. You know it, too. It is remarkable as well that when you evoke how you feel today you invoke how you felt back then nettle stung and trapped between two beasts that may be vicious and another one who undoubtedly is. I am very sorry. It seems you want to make a choice. Which way appears best to you?

Try to be kind to yourself. We've all experienced enough cruelty.

 

[Mikhail098]

the child may ask for answers and solutions we can not offer. we must find the way to share a resolution. as a child, you had a neediness for your dog as for others who you hungered for attention and closeness. we should not judge or blame ourselves for such needs. your dog was miserable and you wanted to liberate him, which you we able to achieve, but when he ran away you longed to have him back. you say he died on that chain. do you feel responsible for his death because you simply wanted him back? do you feel that you should have risked danger and death to chase freedom with your dog, to run away as well? what possible resolve could there be to walk away from that moment.

I understand the fate of dogs is cruel. I have never blamed myself for Aricică, this was the way of life. The stupid dog came back on his own a few days after running away, took on the chain happily and he never had the chance to run again.

Maybe this doesn't make sense, but I am/was much like these dogs. When I was a kid I thought I was a wild animal and that no person understood me. I lived as dogs did, was controlled most of my childhood, until everything changed and I was let go to live my life. The guilt I feel for not only escaping but being handed the way out is immense. I left the dogs behind but really I left a lot of poor children behind, I left my vulnerable family member behind, I wander like a stray dog without purpose.

I'm going to write some random things on my mind just to get it out of me.

Aricică had a red painted dog house and he was chained up to it. He was able to move a few meters on the chain. I used to crawl into his dog house and he would sit outside of it. I called him my guard dog and he was my good friend. I watched Aricică get beaten and he watched me get beaten. He died in a storm outside, he was loyal to Mihai until the end.

My town had two sides to it. It seemed like we all lived in a polite society, but it was all fake. There are dark secrets which no one speaks of in the open.
To chain up a dog is for his own good. Any dog which is let loose to play is at risk of getting killed. Costin once kept a small red dog, who would go exploring at night. The neighbors killed that dog brutally the moment they had the chance. People are vicious.

There are three memories which torment me. First is Aricică's escape. The way the it ended is, I ran back to Mihai the instant he called me. I call Aricică a stupid dog for returning, but I was just the same.

The second takes place in a grand house. (Triggers) The interior is large and it is the home of someone wealthy. A little girl my age is bent over the couch. A man is there, he is bald and mustached. He is holding her vagina open and he encourages me to stick my hand in. I stare inside her, I am looking in her insides, inside her body, still the view is burnt into my brain. Not knowing what to do, I listen to him, and put my hand in. It is like an oven. The poor girl was unresponsive, she made no noise. I am still overwhelmed by the terror.
Selfish as I am, I left that life one day, and I cannot remember the faces of those little children. I cannot remember their faces, but I remember every dimple and curve of the mustached man, the texture of a roughened hand. How it felt inside her body. I have betrayed her and the children.

The third memory is an image. I stand in a room with walls originally painted white, they have yellowed and discolored. Faint marks of dripping water on the walls. The room is entirely empty. A small window with bars is placed uncentered on the wall directly across from me. This is a basement. I don't know anything else, but that I am filled with terror, and am thinking that if I must die here then I am ready.

 

[scaredy-cat]

I've been thinking recently about how people change throughout their life-stages, about how if you put a man next to his child-self, teenage-self, young-adult-self, they would all be entirely separate people with their own different likes, wants, goals, and attitudes. And yet, they're the same person. How can this be?
I know that I've changed a lot from when I was a child, a teenager, even since last month. If I met my eight-year-old self I wouldn't even recognize him as me.
The good news is that if you really hate your child-self you can leave him behind. He's not you, and you don't owe him anything. How could you? He doesn't even exist, not anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if my child-self is dead, like in heaven somewhere, watching me, as if my soul fractured into multiple persons. I seem to have the opposite problem as you. You hate your child-self, I'm obsessed with mine. I wish I could be him again. I don't like this new person that I inhabit, and I yearn for those good-old-days when I was him and he was me.
I wish I could forget everything, go back into his body, and be at peace. It would be like returning to the garden of Eden: a state of tranquil innocence, free from the burden of sin and all the troubles that the fruit of knowledge brings.

 

[Mikhail098]

I have since calmed down from the chaos before. It is important for me to be stable and functional so I can survive and support myself in this life but I was very lost earlier. It seems my senses were clouded and I was very emotional.

these other places and times we go live in my therapist tells me is the world of parts and that when we go back to these worlds we are detached and dissociated from the present world now. he tells me a good goal is to invite those parts into my world rather than me going into their's. that they live there and are always in the trauma.

This is very interesting and I think it makes sense. Some parts of myself "never left" those places. I was occupied with the memories and was definitely very disassociated. I am still on edge and disassociated somewhat but am no longer panicking so extremely and am able to eat/sleep/work. It is a relief. And I got to vent out all these frustrations and experiences, I understand myself a little bit better. Whatever anger that was within me towards my inner child, is a bit quieter now. I can let out a good cry by myself and the burden will become a bit smaller.

The responses I received here are very smart and interesting to read and learn from. I am happy to read them.

 

[Pollux]

Little Mikhail was a dog. He was a masochist. He was an idiot. I must've killed him or buried him far away, years ago. Does it make sense? My inner child is separate from me. He never grew up. Little Mikhail has been gone for a long time. Who I am now feels like a mystery. I am made of organs and skin, but I don't have personhood. I am a wandering body.

Yes, the truth is I hate my inner child. I have a very angry side to me which is violent to that inner child. There is an internal turmoil and conflict within me. The war against myself wages and my body is exhausted.

I don't think Little Mikhail was ever a person. He was pathetic and hungry for love. I understand him, he was young and sick, he knew nothing. And because I understand him, I know how minuscule he was. I could never sympathize with him. I can say, "poor kid", but I will never believe it. What I believe is that Little Mikhail was a stain on the world, a mangled weed, something to get rid of.

I don't know if hating my inner child will make me a miserable person who is incapable of healing. I can't help but to hate him. I am hurting terribly. If I imagine that I have been navigating this world like a maze, then I have hit a dead end, and now I am stuck in a closet with four walls, no escape. And so I have just been fighting myself in a small room with nowhere to go.

There is a memory I find myself living in. From when I was five. Aricică, like most dogs, was kept chained up his whole life and he died this way. I had begged Mihai to let Aricică run and play, so finally he did. I wanted to run and play with Aricică, but he did not stay around. Aricică ran like a rocket the moment the chain was undone, far away. I waited a long time for Aricică to come back, I called his name, but he didn't come.

A couple days later I saw Aricică again. The neighboring property was abandoned at the time. It was dense of trees and ivy on the ground, like a small jungle. As I stood on the edge of the jungle, I saw Aricică on the other side. He was playing with two large black dogs, who had sharp ears. I was so excited, I started crossing into the "jungle" and calling his name. The stinging nettle burnt the bare skin on my legs, but I was desperate. Midway through crossing, Mihai calls for me. He is very angry. He tells me that those black dogs will kill and eat me if I go any further.

I find myself still trapped in the middle of that property. Not knowing what to do, which direction to take.

I completely understand. I don't like that little boy in me either.

 

[Curiouspaints]

Be happy be happy

 

[i-m-Bri]

@Mikhail098
Forever I cringed when I remembered my kid-self. I was ashamed and embarrassed about so much. So many nights I laid in bed remembering him and turned flush red with dread for who I was.

Damn, if I didn’t learn my lesson well!
I took the lesson learned in the assault and just smeared it all over everything!
Abuse teaches us to hate us.

I am breaking free by imagining how I would feel if it were anyone but me and then turning that compassionate lens toward myself.

What was our crime? Being a child, being needy, and looking for what you need is not a crime!

 

[Pollux]

What was our crime? Being a child, being needy, and looking for what you need is not a crime!

Exactly, someone taught us to hate those things about ourselves.

 

[Curiouspaints]

Exactly, someone taught us to hate those things about ourselves.

It hurts

 

[.aseity]

I ran back to Mihai the instant he called me. I call Aricică a stupid dog for returning, but I was just the same.

Spoiler

my mom was an animal hoarder and was extremely neglectful and abusive to both the animals and her children. many times i witness a dog who is so conditioned to the abuse and neglect it is all they know. these dogs lived on chains and in kennels if not loose in the house. the dogs would rather return to their kennel filled with shit and piss. i think i was the only one to ever clean out the kennels. periodically i would return to my mom's as a teen, mostly to see the wellbeing of my 2 little sisters. it never went well for me. subjecting myself to abuse. i was essentially free to leave because i took that liberty for myself, but my little sisters never learned to run away. they clung to our mom and stayed obedient. they also adopted her behaviors in tormenting me. when i would get locked in the dog kennels with the shit and piss i got a close look at what it was like for the dogs. sometimes locked in there with a dog. when i would try to stick my fingers out to unlatch the gate i was hit with broom sticks or anything around.



it's not like i hate dogs but i really struggle to get attached to dogs, cats to, and people and so on. i guess it easier to avoid being attached because it just too much for me. it's fair to say i reject affection. the relates to the "inner child" dilemma and why it is next to impossible to reach that level of relationship with my self. it is not intimate or affectionate, it is cold. it is fair to say i hate myself. i see the word hate stained on my skin everyday. that 14 year old boy i was does not care about himself or myself, to further complicate it, perhaps it is the younger child self who hates my life. regardless of how seemingly good i have it now. there is a void.

 

[Curiouspaints]

Spoiler

my mom was an animal hoarder and was extremely neglectful and abusive to both the animals and her children. many times i witness a dog who is so conditioned to the abuse and neglect it is all they know. these dogs lived on chains and in kennels if not loose in the house. the dogs would rather return to their kennel filled with shit and piss. i think i was the only one to ever clean out the kennels. periodically i would return to my mom's as a teen, mostly to see the wellbeing of my 2 little sisters. it never went well for me. subjecting myself to abuse. i was essentially free to leave because i took that liberty for myself, but my little sisters never learned to run away. they clung to our mom and stayed obedient. they also adopted her behaviors in tormenting me. when i would get locked in the dog kennels with the shit and piss i got a close look at what it was like for the dogs. sometimes locked in there with a dog. when i would try to stick my fingers out to unlatch the gate i was hit with broom sticks or anything around.



it's not like i hate dogs but i really struggle to get attached to dogs, cats to, and people and so on. i guess it easier to avoid being attached because it just too much for me. it's fair to say i reject affection. the relates to the "inner child" dilemma and why it is next to impossible to reach that level of relationship with my self. it is not intimate or affectionate, it is cold. it is fair to say i hate myself. i see the word hate stained on my skin everyday. that 14 year old boy i was does not care about himself or myself, to further complicate it, perhaps it is the younger child self who hates my life. regardless of how seemingly good i have it now. there is a void.

Check out the movie dog man by luc besson

 

[.aseity]

i most likely wont @Curiouspaints

 

[Curiouspaints]

Be good to yourself

 

[Mikhail098]

my little sisters never learned to run away. they clung to our mom and stayed obedient.

This I understand. It was my reality until I became an older teenager and realized I had become unwanted and been treated cruelly since I went through puberty. I wasn't useful or good no matter how hard I tried and I lost that bond with Mihai that he worked so hard for when I was a little kid. As a teenager I went to school and had other things to hold on to. So I slowly let go of any emotional attachment I had to him and other abusive people in my life. I was let go to run and live my life without any resistance. Still, I wish I could prove I am useful and worth something to Mihai. But maybe that's just the obedient part of me speaking, that refuses to die.

I can understand your feelings towards animals due to your past. It makes sense and must work as a form of self-protection.
We are different in this aspect. Personally, I have loved my cat Micuța more than anyone else. I have good people in my life but they have never granted me such joy and comfort. I think it is people I am wary of making connection with. Micuța was found at the local train station as a kitten, she was abandoned. A younger relative of mine found her and brought her home. Micuța wasn't mistreated like the dogs. I could take care of her and she became my baby cat. At night she would sleep in my arms and she would bring me a mouse every day. It is disgusting but I got used to disposing of the mice. I removed her parasites, cleaned her, fed her, did everything I could to keep her safe and comfortable. When the weather was extreme I would take her into my little room in the hallway, she was forbidden from staying in any other room of the house. I did leave her behind in Romania but I love her forever.

Well, for me, loving my baby cat is much easier than loving other people and making connection with children. I am quite uncomfortable around children, they are fragile and vulnerable which disturbs me terribly. But for my child self, I often face violent thoughts towards him. It is not something I would ever think to any other child but only to Little Mikhail. So as for your statement about your younger childhood self -- maybe I understand. Little Mikhail would be scared of these thoughts I have towards him, and he was scared of the same violence from his father. If Little Mikhail and I were to exist at the same time, we would not be compatible. I would have abandoned him immediately, and he was constantly terrified of being abandoned.
Sometimes, I hate myself but it isn't so powerful. I hardly know myself. I have a few identities for myself, but they don't really mean anything. I don't know what "self" is outside of the sexual context, I think I am more a body rather than a person. It's all a mystery.

 

[kman0300]

Little Mikhail was a dog. He was a masochist. He was an idiot. I must've killed him or buried him far away, years ago. Does it make sense? My inner child is separate from me. He never grew up. Little Mikhail has been gone for a long time. Who I am now feels like a mystery. I am made of organs and skin, but I don't have personhood. I am a wandering body.

Yes, the truth is I hate my inner child. I have a very angry side to me which is violent to that inner child. There is an internal turmoil and conflict within me. The war against myself wages and my body is exhausted.

I don't think Little Mikhail was ever a person. He was pathetic and hungry for love. I understand him, he was young and sick, he knew nothing. And because I understand him, I know how minuscule he was. I could never sympathize with him. I can say, "poor kid", but I will never believe it. What I believe is that Little Mikhail was a stain on the world, a mangled weed, something to get rid of.

I don't know if hating my inner child will make me a miserable person who is incapable of healing. I can't help but to hate him. I am hurting terribly. If I imagine that I have been navigating this world like a maze, then I have hit a dead end, and now I am stuck in a closet with four walls, no escape. And so I have just been fighting myself in a small room with nowhere to go.

There is a memory I find myself living in. From when I was five. Aricică, like most dogs, was kept chained up his whole life and he died this way. I had begged Mihai to let Aricică run and play, so finally he did. I wanted to run and play with Aricică, but he did not stay around. Aricică ran like a rocket the moment the chain was undone, far away. I waited a long time for Aricică to come back, I called his name, but he didn't come.

A couple days later I saw Aricică again. The neighboring property was abandoned at the time. It was dense of trees and ivy on the ground, like a small jungle. As I stood on the edge of the jungle, I saw Aricică on the other side. He was playing with two large black dogs, who had sharp ears. I was so excited, I started crossing into the "jungle" and calling his name. The stinging nettle burnt the bare skin on my legs, but I was desperate. Midway through crossing, Mihai calls for me. He is very angry. He tells me that those black dogs will kill and eat me if I go any further.

I find myself still trapped in the middle of that property. Not knowing what to do, which direction to take.

There's no point in blaming yourself for the abuse. The most important thing you can do is realize that the abuse wasn't that child's fault. Did we need attention? Yes. Were we vulnerable and needy? Yes. Were we trusting of our abusers or groomed into doing so? Yes. Does that make us responsible for the abuse? Absolutely not! That child needs you. Try doing inner-child work, and having a conversation with that child. What does he need from you? What is he telling you? You'd be surprised at what he has to say. He might very well be telling you it isn't your fault. The better you can take care of him, love him unconditionally and accept and protect him, the better you will heal.