There’s a guy in my town, a bit younger than I am(25), and he’s a full-time drunk. Anytime you see him, he’s plastered, and usually gives me bad manners. The thought of this little puke giving me shit, like he’s better than me, makes my blood temperature go up to 100, and I’m talking celsius, baby.
Next time he gives me shit, i’m gonna give him a feed of his teeth.
oh, and this guy who bullied me at promary school… I’ve grown up since then, and feel no hate towards the SEVERAL people who treated me like shit back then… its the classic tale; now they live like peasants, while I’m fairly well off, and they know it. I see them from time to time, and they are genuinely humble, as if they have figured out what Karma means.
But this one cunt still thinks he’s hot shit, and still jibes at me, even now, fifteen years later. I’m just waitin, waiting for him to lay a finger on me, so I can beat the living shit out of him, really hurt him fucking bad, and they can show this post IN COURT I dont give a fuck, because I HATE THAT MOTHERFUCKER AND I ALWAYS FUCKING WILL!!!
Although, seeing some of the posts here, I really have nothing to complain about, and I should probably chill the fuck out.
The only people I hate are dead, and I’m not sorry. Both my grandfathers were grade A assholes, one a sexual predator, the other “only” physically and emotionally abusive. My parents went through more shit than anyone deserves to, and as much as I’d love to be a forgiving person I doubt I’ll ever not hate those two men for what they did.
bubatis, I think you will discover this with time, but hating someone that much just means they’re living rent-free in your head, and I’m sure they would delight in knowing how much angst they’re causing you.
Trust me, let go. The opposite of love is not hate but apathy. Living well is the best revenge. And, to your post, revenge is not a defense that will hold up in court.
Instead of hating, turn your energy to letting go. You will be truly free when you can just go “meh” when you hear his name.
I would never try to enact revenge on her, though I think she may have been behind an incident where a rock and a bottle were thrown through my windows, but I can’t imagine going “meh” at the thought of my hated person, my former boss. I would like to; I think yours is excellent advice. But I think until I can drag up whatever ugliness she’s left rooted in me and chop it up in the daylight, I’m gonna go on having that evil little hate-gnome with her face in my head, like you say.
I don’t like hating. It’s an unpleasant feeling. But so is a hangover, and I used to drink a lot, too. :wally I guess I just need to hate her for a while until it burns off, or something.
I knew someone was going to pull out that gem. 
They say that all the time in AA.
There are just times when you have anger and hate towards someone. You can’t always control it. For me, it never lasts long, but while it’s there it can be very intense.
The only person I can think of that I really have anything like hatred towards is this dick I went to school with. He did everything he could to make every day of high school unbearable for me and for several other people. He was tall and Republican, and I just hated his fucking guts. The fact that he only gotten fatter and dorkier just makes me smile. What a loser.
That’s what I thought with my hated person. Then, one day, I realized I had gone the whole day without thinking about her once. It was quite liberating.
It takes time, that’s all. But the harder you hold on to the hate the longer it takes to dissipate.
I can get terribly, terribly angry with some people who have done me wrong in various ways. Usually, because we do live in a civilised world full of laws and repercussions, and because to take action as I’d like to would be to bring myself way down to their level, these folk get away with what they’ve done, which makes me seethe.
But – I don’t hate them. I avoid them in the main, and I pity them as a rule.
In 1993 I HATED my husband more then I have words. He was dead so it didn’t bother him at all. He killed himself and the loathing I felt when I looked at his body is something I can’t describe.
Now I don’t hate him. I can even understand him. I would still love to have him back.
But for a few months in 1993 he was the most hated man that ever killed himself.
That sounds like hippy talk to me!
Only joking, good advice. i will forget all about this prick… After I smash him.
You know, before my experience at my former job, I’d never really felt hate before, and I had an afterschool special kind of childhood. I suppose some of the posters who cited “personal reasons” had similar experiences. I felt rage, and pity, and disgust and fear, but I never hated someone so much it made me sick to be around anyone who looked or sounded like them. That others have done far worse to me than what my ex-boss did doesn’t change anything. I honestly had no idea what the feeling was like, and now that I have it, I really have no idea how to get rid of it, except to live through it until it goes.
I certainly can’t just wish it away, and in a way I don’t want to, because I think there’s a reason for it.
I don’t hate anyone now, but I hated my junior high bullies with the fire of a thousand suns. This one girl in particular, Molly. Man, I hated her. I hated her because she made me hate myself. She was incredibly cruel to me - to my face, and I hated it that I just took it and didn’t have the cojones to stand up to her and tell her to fuck off. I almost cried with joy when I found out that she would be going to a different high school than me, and I’d never see her again.
The twist is, almost ten years later, I spotted her on my university campus. I double checked the school directory, and yup…it was her. (I was pleased in a petty way to see that I was now a year ahead of her in school, whereas she’d been a year ahead of me in junior high.) All the old rage and hatred that I’d thought I’d forgotten came back, and I was really torn on what to do. I wasn’t a pushover anymore and my old fantasy of being able to tell her off was suddenly a real possibility. I posted a thread about it on the SDMB, asking for advice. The Dopers, in their wisdom, told me I should leave it alone. I saw her a few more times, but she never showed any sign that she recognized me, and I ignored her. As tempting as it was to pick a fight with her as an adult, I’m pretty sure I would have regretted it afterwards.
I don’t know who they are, but I hate them too. I hope I run across them some day and cause them unpleasantness.
Burning hate? No.
There are people that I never care to meet, see, hear of, hear from, speak to, listen to, etceteras ever again.
My grandfather sexually abused myself (my earliest memories are of him messing with me at age three, and it wasn’t a new experience I remember, if that makes sense) my two brothers, and my two step sisters for years.
Both of my brothers have never dealt with it. Both have done/are doing time. Both have been/are junkies/alcoholics. Both have comitted sex crimes. One of my step sisters comitted suicide.
It affected me for decades, until therapy and medication helped me move beyond the trauma. Now I am an active advocate for children in similar situations, and adults who are trying to work out their own childhood trauma.
The goat died in 1981, and I do, still, harbor a deep burning hatred for him. His horrific acts have directly affected four generations of my family. I keep my sanity with the belief that he is burning in hell.
I could think of 2 bullys that bugged me in Elementary School and Jr. High.
If I were to learn that they were abducted and sold into slavery or are doing hard-time I might break into a smile.
My step-dad. He raped my sisters, abused my mother , beat me pretty much on
a daily basis and when he wasn’t pursuing the physical abuse he concentrated
on mental. It got to the pint where I bought a stolen shotgun, sawed it off and
told my mom to get out of bed at 1:00 in the morning and I would stick it under
his chin and end our torment . (I was 15) We left 2 days later. He tried to get
us to come back (we were staying with my older brother so he knew where to
find us) with violent threats . It was then that I told him how I really felt and
much to my surprise he went away and did not bother us again. I let that hate
control my life until I was about 33 and i finally figured out that he was still
abusing me through said hate . I had to let it go before it ate me alive .
I’m glad I did.
kelly
I don’t hate them now, but my mother and my sister caused me deep psychological damage while I was middle-school age, and I sure as hell hated them then.
Besides what’s in the linked thread, there was also the pasta maker incident (and despite what another poster once said, it did scar me for life) and the time I came home from school to find the house empty, no note or anything, and myriad little incidents, like my sister smoking in my room. (I was twelve. I didn’t smoke. Marcia had her old bedroom she could have smoked in.) Anyway, I had this air freshener that looked like a spent candle, you see, and the first time I came home to find ashes in it, I politely informed Marcia that it was, in fact, an air freshener, and could she please use an ashtray. The next day or day after, I forget exactly, I came home to find ashes in it again. And I blew up. And got punished, because who was I to talk to her that way?
I hate to use pop psych terms, especially one that I suspect got started on Dr. Phil, but this one, I think, is truly appropriate: less than. They made me feel less than, every day that I had to be around the two of them. No, I don’t think they did it on purpose, but I do think they did it out of complete lack of regard. They simply. Did. Not. Care about me. They did not regard me as a member of the family. Which I desperately wanted to be. This is so often the case with oops babies. Your parents and adult siblings figure it’s necessary for you to get your quota of being pushed around, picked on and put down, because that’s what happens to all youngests. And it does, but a normal youngest, with roughly 2-5 years between them and the next sibling, usually gets his quota of fun times and shared experiences and emotional support in addition to that. But Oopsie? Well, he’s just gonna have to go outside the family for that; who has the time?
I wouldn’t treat a dog the way Marcia and my mom did me, and in fact, neither would they have. Again I say, I don’t hate them now. But forgiving != forgetting. It’s an easy pattern to fall into, but I managed to avoid it, with my nephew, and with my sister’s stepdaughter, and with any number of cousins, friends’ kids and neighbors’ kids. Family is family, no matter what the age configuration is, and there’s no excuse for treating a kid like that.
I’m like a lot of people in this thread: I can and do hate, but it dies after a while. I just move on with life and don’t think back over it.
I truly truly truly hate my former boss. I just heard he was in a car accident, and I was incredibly disappointed to find out he was all right. That was when I realized, to my shock, how much I am capable of hating.