No More Room For Hate.

The strange thing about hate is that it has within it something that sets it apart from other emotions. Choosing to hate others based on traits like race, religion, or sexual orientation creates a particular look in the eyes. A chilling look that both repels and disgusts those that are sensitive to it, or have suffered because of it. When looking into such eyes, one gets the sense that hate has taken up so much space within the person that their soul was simply…pushed out. Those that hate wholeheartedly leave little room for anything else within them. 

“I vow to never hate another soul as long as I live. I swear it!” he spluttered out aloud before continuing to gag into the toilet bowl. It was a powerful thing to say for one such as he. It had occurred to him, at this lowest moment of his life, now that he was approaching the end of his life, he had in fact, not made a point of living it his life very well. He held on to hate for so long that it ate away at him like a cancer…and in fact, evolved into cancer. His hate was of such magnitude that it literally manifested physically and was going to kill him. Within a year his body was riddled with tumors. 

It was a salvation of sorts, more than a curse because he began to contemplate his choices and beliefs, something he would not have dared to have done prior to his illness, and this brought about a kind of freedom. As his body wasted away, it was as if his mind finally began to awaken, allowing him to reflect on a life of bad decisions and baneful beliefs with a clarity he had never experienced before.

He realized he had been asleep during the course of his life, so unaware, that he refused to see that the hate was a product of his fear. You see, emotions aren’t quite so simple, experiencing a particular negative emotion quite often means there is a deeper underlying one that has not, yet, been acknowledged. When a person is an angry individual, quick to lose their temper, you will find that they are, in actual fact, deeply sad. When a person hates, well, that’s a manifestation of fear. 

We get angry when we are scared. We lash out at things we don’t understand and we hide from the things that we are scared of. We tell ourselves that lies that makes it easier for us to hide behind our fears.

He was afraid, not of death mind you, of so many other things. He was terrified of the unknown, which was, let’s be frank, most things and people. He wasn’t what you would call an educated man, nor was he a man of the world. He was too scared to learn about the things that perplexed him, and he was too scared to travel to different places for fear of those that were different. Those that were different. They were his biggest fear. The ones who looked different, thought different, believed different, lived differently and loved differently. He was so consumed with terror at the thought of anyone different from him that he decided to hate them.

He chose to let his fear manifest into hate, instead of overcoming it by learning about those that he found to be so alien. He realized that now, as the tears ran down his cheeks and he rested his head against the toilet bowl. It was so simple. He wasted his life away by hiding behind hate, that hate became his very identity. How rich his life would have been if he traveled the world and met some of those amazing, beautiful people he had so fiercely avoided. 

The fear had kept him constantly focused on why he shouldn’t accept, that it never occurred to him that what makes the human race so interesting, is its differences. 

The hate had left him here, alone. The hate had divided his own family. The hate had driven his son from his home and his life for the last 10 years. It was the reason he had no idea where his baby boy was now, or how he was doing. He didn’t understand his son, he was too scared to try. Finding out that a member of his own family was different, loved different, was unacceptable, so he drove his child out. It broke up his family, but still, his hate did not relent. He still held on to it like a starved dog to a bone. It was all he had. It was all he knew. A constant, toxic, companion.

As he recalled moments from his life he saw the cycles of his behavior and for the first time wondered how they affected the people he loved. Moments of screaming at the TV because he did not like the news, ranting about Woman’s Rights protestors, complaining about all the foreigners moving into the neighborhood, and constant use of hateful words in his conversations. How must his child felt, growing up with a father that so blatantly voiced hate for people like him? He cringed at the thought of how his words hurt and damaged his child. 

He began to sob, “Do you hear me? I will never hate again. I’m sorry! I am so so sorry!” 

Voicing the words came as a surprising release. It was as if the god he was yelling at heard him and removed the years of noxious beliefs from his psyche. All the hate left him, as did his fear. He was glad to be rid of these old companions. He was finally free of himself. Free from the torture he imposed on himself and those closest to him. Perhaps, in that moment, as he let go of them, he made space for his soul to return and he finally found peace as he drew his last breath, there, alone, on the bathroom floor.