If someone would have told me years ago that I’d be a healer and Love helping people, that I’d see it as a Privilege, I’d have told them that they were totally and truly bat-shit crazy. Actually, I wouldn’t have told them; more likely, I’d have done something vilely, insidiously passive-aggressive towards them. It was my own preferred expression of anger that ‘didn’t look like’ anger.
Most everyone that knows me presently will find this extremely difficult to believe, but (if it isn’t obvious from that last paragraph) I used to hate people. And I didn’t discriminate, either; I hated pretty much everyone.
Did I have a ‘why’? Not that I would – or even, could – have thought about it this way at the time, but it was because everyone else needed to recognize how hurt I was, and everyone else was responsible for how I felt. They must have been. After all, I wasn’t. Right? It’s so much easier to hate other people than to admit that you hate yourself.