Making A To Be List

How Creating my “hate list” helped me find happiness

Heather Senst

I’m, by nature, not a hateful person, but apparently, I hate a lot of things.  After one of my most recent outbursts, my son told me to “add it to the list.”  This got me thinking. I do have a list. We all have a list.  And as dialectical behavioural therapy teaches, you can be two things simultaneously.  I can be a loving person and yet seemingly hate many things.  For instance, I can love seeing a person but hate it when they chew with their mouth open. Or I can love the beach but hate the feel of sand.

Of course, I hope we all hate things such as “world hunger,” “climate change,” and “disease.” That’s not what this list is about.  It’s about letting it rip on the superficial little garbage that piles up and annoys us every day.  The joy-sucking, energy-draining stuff that can change our mood in a flash. It could also include they eye rolling, things we agree to do but secretly hate. What would be on your list?  Do any of the things on my list match yours?  

The list began with me saying, “I hate when people dress head to toe in black at night and then act mad when you almost hit them!”

I hate mosquitos.

I hate people who honk their horn the moment the light turns green.

I hate bullies.

I hate unheated swimming pools.

I hate returning things at Zara.

I hate that you can’t get a real person on the phone anymore.

I hate people who don’t pick up their dog poo.

I equally hate the people who put their dog poo bags in my garbage can.

I hate getting gas.

I hate pool parties.

I hate putting on ski boots.

I like doing laundry but hate putting it away.

I hate public restrooms.

I hate people who act privileged when it isn’t them who earned their money.

I hate it when people don’t wave “thank you” when you let them pull out before you.

I hate classical music

I hate it when people have opinions on subjects they know nothing about.

I hate that, as a 50-year-old, I can still get pimples.

I hate when people take food from my plate without asking.

I hate when people read my magazine before I do.

I hate brunch.

I pretty much hate anything to do with passwords.

I hate playing Monopoly.

I hate that the Supreme Court has jobs for life.

I hate that Uber drivers don’t help you with your bags.

I hate that you’re expected to tip everywhere for anything.

I hate extremists.

I hate “forced” group activities like scavenger hunts.

I hate too much garlic.

I hate winter.

I hate escape rooms.

I hate that cold sores are embarrassing.

I found creating this list very cathartic and sometimes surprising.  In the same way, journaling has proven to provide multiple mental and physical benefits, putting my angry thoughts to paper did make me feel “lighter” and took the “sting” out of some of my thoughts.  I even found myself giggling as I reflected on past experiences.  However, perhaps my next list should include the multitude of things I am grateful for so that my son will believe I am not a complete curmudgeon. I hate it when kids think they’re so much wiser than their parents…oh wait, “add it to the list!”