I hated white people for a time, blaming them for all that was bad in the world. I hated Blacks for even longer because of what they did hunting and making each other slaves for the European christians. I hated Jews for always seeming to think that their plight was graver than that of any other and for being bold enough to claim a relationship with God that was above all others on this planet. I hated teachers, politicians and just about everyone and everything. When I looked at my life going down the toilette I began to hate myself.
I robbed white people and told myself that they deserved it because they had put me in this position by enslaving my fore fathers, but even then I knew that no one had stopped me from going to school but me; no one had made me quit adult education, but me; no one had ruined my life, but me. I did not have it easy and I did face prejudice every day, but I had chosen to let it pull me down instead of using it to make me strong and that was no ones fault , but mine.
I was mean to women and tried to use them, telling myself that a woman beat me as a child and hurt my feelings. I could not take it out on my mom, but no other woman would ever get the chance to hurt me again, but even that was a lie. I loved my mom until the day she died and although her methods were very severe she always tried to get me to go to school and not be a bad character. Some women in my life outside of my family seemed only interested in having sexual relations with me since grade three and I rationalized that all women were the same and if they could use me for sex, I would make them pay for it. This was just another way for an uneducated guy to get money and was another lie.
The more I lied the more I hated myself , because I was a failure in my own eyes. I was ashamed of who I had become; ashamed at what I had allowed hatred to make me. I had jobs, but quit because the boss was prejudice anytime he tried to tell me anything. I became an alcoholic, did all drugs that did not require a needle, including heroin. ( chasing the dragon was the term back then). I worked, got married, had a child and lost everything twice and still I hated and blamed the world outwardly, but inside I knew it was me who was hurting myself, but I felt helpless to change.
Then came a day I sat in my room in my mother’s house and took out my gun , a bottle of whiskey and started to drink and think. It wa only a 22, but it was loaded and I began to spin that cylinder. I put the gun down and drank some more, a single tear running down my face and feeling of such worthlessness was running through me and I just wanted it to end, I just wanted to die and I picked back up the gun and placed the tip of the barrel to my head and allowed all that I had allowed hate to make me do run through my mind and cocked the gun. I took another swig of whiskey and asked God why me? Why didn’t he care about me?
I did not hear her come in the house, or come down the hall, but just as I went to pull the trigger, I heard a voice say, ” son put the gun down and lets talk; please son do not do this”. I looked at her and I knew I would not be dying that day and when she put out her hand for the gun I uncocked it and gave it to her. I told her how I had ruined my life and that now I would be nothing and that there was something wrong with me. I told her my life was over and she should have just let me die.
It was then that she gae me the last slap she would ever give me and said.” Every one in your life from the minister to your teachers, me and all who loved you tried to get you to see that you were headed down the wrong path, but you had to get even. You had to let your hatred of others ruin your life. Well it is never too late to pick yourself up and turn things around if you really want to and I will help you all that I can. First take a good look at yourself and stop blaming others. You and you alone have chosen what doors to open and which to leave closed. Look deep inside yourself and find the real Arche. Find your dream and forgive yourself and all who you think you have a reason to hate. The minute you own your mistakes, you will be able to change it. Son, you must open you hand to receive a gift, otherwise it just falls to the ground.
I was not quite sure how she got hold of me, but their I was a tough gang banger, a man crying in my mother’s arms like a baby and it felt good. After a little while she pushed me away gently and gave me back the gun and said,” Son please do not ever bring another gun into this house and if you ever feel the need to do such a cowardly thing as killing yourself, please do me the favor of doing it some place else.” with that she spun around and left the room as quietly as she had come in.
It took a while, but I did manage to get my family back and turn my life a round. I forgave those who had made me angry and stopped hating them. I stopped hating myself and soon after started to love myself as well. I began help others and it felt good. I write to share the need to not hate others and let that hatred consume your life, but for the need to try to fix what is broken and right the injustices of the world. I am a person who felt the hurt and rejection that accompanies prejudice and senseless cruelty. I have lived through mental, physical and sexual abuse. I was a guilty of abusing and hurting and was full of anger, hatred and prejudice and it nearly killed me; do not let it happen to you , or anyone else.