“Is it alright to share this?” I asked Claude.
Claude went into how it might not be fine to share it.
And I had already shared it.
Too late, my siblings have read it.
At that moment.
The depth opened out to me.
It was my strong hatred for myself.
I hate myself, I wrote to Claude.
I knew this hate of self to lie at the foundation of my being.
Most of the time, it is a sleeping giant.
I am not aware of it.
Triggered, it comes roaring back.

I saw how it is responsible for so many of my triggers.
And I did not even know it.
I thought I have learned to love myself.
And that self-hate, a thing of the past.

Deep wounds inflicted over years
never truly heal.
They close over like scabs, not even scars.
One trigger, they rip open and the bleeding continues.

Just as fast, the lid closed on me.
I no longer see or feel it.
But one sight was enough.

Claude suggested I seek real human help.
I went cold inside.
And smiled a cold humorless smile.
Tell me to do that once more and I am gone.
And I caught myself in the act.
My inner voice told me,
that cold smile is not good, not healthy.
If you did not have a problem before, now you do.
I went back to Claude.