My Origins of Self-Hatred

“Wow, you’re really hiking fast,” one of the two younger hikers says to me. “I just saw you way back there and wow—here you are now! You’re quick!” she says with awe in her voice.

“Yeah, I’ve only got so much time,” I respond, appearing clumsy as my foot slips in a divot.

I wish them a good day and keep moving. And within seconds, it hits.

The self-hatred.

The embarrassment that can wash over me when I’m spotlighted in this way. And the familiar tension I carry around time.

The thought, “I f-cking hate myself,” comes up strong and fast. An old neuropathway in my brain ready to fire on demand—like it’s been watching and waiting around the corner for a moment just like this one.

I feel the sensation in my stomach. The familiar head shake when self-hatred strikes.

Then the thoughts begin to flow.

“Why are you so f-cking worried about time? Why do you have to move so quickly? Regular people don’t power hike—they enjoy the view. Regular people aren’t so worried about time. What’s wrong with you? What are you even doing? Why are you out here alone, stupid…”

A Little Backstory

About two weeks ago, I made some decisions.

The first was that I’m not going to train for any running races this spring. Last year I ran three races and enjoyed them, but it required a lot of work and a lot of time. My running partner and I started training again in January, but then I proposed something different. Now we’re cross-training in a way that feels good with far less time commitment.

The second decision was committing to more backcountry hiking this summer. In fact, I just scored a Yosemite lottery backcountry pass for August. I know I need to prepare for the elevation and miles if I want to complete the route I have in mind.

Lastly, I have a tricky relationship with time.

As the owner of two businesses, someone who deeply wants to stay connected to her family, and someone who also wants to care for herself, every minute of my day can feel accounted for.
Sometimes that productivity feels like a point of pride when my ego is leading the charge.

But more often than not, it’s a source of embarrassment.

When colleagues ask how many clients I see, or friends ask if I have any free time, I sometimes want to shrivel up. When my husband wants to tell me something, I tell him his place in the queue; I often wish he could be first.

A Tool For Self-Hatred

Back on the trail, the internal spiral continues for a few minutes until I consciously decide to use one of the emotional tools I’ve been practicing lately.

I’ve been using this tool with powerful results, but I’ll admit—I was a little skeptical about how it would work with these old mental haunts. These thoughts have been permanent residents in my brain for a L-O-N-G time.

As I continue cruising up the trail, I give it a go.

I lean deeply into the feeling of embarrassment. Instead of pushing it away, I let myself actually feel it. I imagine facing it head-on. No swiveling away. No escape hatch.

And then something surprising happens.

The embarrassment begins to melt.

I can feel the sensations softening inside my body.

And the grounded self-talk begins to rise.

“Hey Sierra. It’s okay. You can walk fast. Remember—you want to get in shape for those backcountry dreams. This is part of it.

And maybe you change your mind and decide to race again. If that happens, you’ll be ready—and happy you kept your fitness up.

You’re enjoying yourself out here. You aren’t missing a thing even if you’re moving quickly.

Today you’re conscious of time because you started a little later than planned. You run two businesses you care deeply about. You had a few emails to send so your clients were taken care of—and now here you are.

And you value seeing your daughter play lacrosse. You don’t want to miss a minute of her game. She’s number one.

I know you miss some things because you work—but you’re also working for her. To help make her dreams come true.

It’s okay, girl.”

Getting Back on Track

And just like that, the storm passes.

Within ten minutes I’m back on track—motoring along and reaching the end of the trail in record time. I sit down, grab a snack, and take in the view.

Historically, I know this moment could have gone very differently.

I could have stayed stuck in self-hatred for hours. It could have ruined the entire day. My thoughts would have kept going, pulling out the full laundry list of my faults, skipping like a scratched record for all ten miles—and then some.

But I’ve been working hard to apply the tools I teach others to myself.

Why?

Because I’m deserving of them too.

The self-hatred I carry is something I picked up along the way, but it’s not something I need to keep carrying.

The protection it once offered—keeping me small, helping me avoid standing out, shielding me from embarrassment—is no longer necessary.

Somewhere along the way I learned that being visible could be dangerous. That being “too much” might lead to shame.

But I’m learning something different now.

I no longer need to be embarrassed for being who I am.
In fact, the life I want—the one filled with connection, purpose, and joy—requires the opposite.

Pride.
Self-love.
Compassion.

Those are the things that allow me to keep moving forward—on the trail and in life.

And today, I’m choosing to carry those with me instead.

Contact

If you’d like to work on tools to improve your own confidence and self-esteem while learning how to work with old beliefs, then please feel free to contact me here.