We live in an age of extraordinary emotional enlightenment. We’re encouraged to practise gratitude, embrace empathy, set healthy boundaries, forgive those who have wronged us and send positive energy out into the universe. Preferably before breakfast, after journalling and a quick meditation.
But what if, despite all this personal growth, there is someone you just really, really hate?
Not someone who mildly annoys you. Not the colleague who insists on heating tuna in the communal microwave, or the woman at Pilates who treats the reformer studio like her personal Instagram studio. We’re talking about the person whose very name makes something unpleasant happen to your facial expression. The person who behaved so badly, so selfishly or so spectacularly without conscience that the mere mention of them can ruin an otherwise perfectly lovely lunch.
Perhaps it’s an ex-partner, a former friend, a manipulative relative or someone who managed to make your life thoroughly miserable before sailing off into the sunset without so much as an apology.
And yet, somehow, we’re supposed to wish them well.
We’re told that holding onto hatred is unhealthy, that forgiveness is freedom and that resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to suffer. Which is a lovely sentiment, although one suspects it was probably invented by someone who had never been properly betrayed.
So here’s a rather uncomfortable question. Is it ever actually okay to hate someone? And, perhaps more interestingly, why are we so determined to pretend that we don’t?
When Did Hating Someone Become Such a Personal Failure?
There was a time when disliking someone was a perfectly ordinary part of being human.
Your grandmother could have spent 40 years refusing to speak to her sister over an incident involving a Christmas pudding in 1973, and nobody thought she needed a healing journey. Your grandfather might have despised the man who lived three doors down, although the precise reason had been lost somewhere around 1986.
People had enemies. They had grudges. They had people they wouldn’t invite to dinner.
Life continued.
Now, expressing strong dislike for another person can feel like admitting you’ve failed some kind of emotional intelligence examination.
You’re supposed to understand their behaviour, consider their childhood, recognise their trauma, appreciate their perspective and ultimately arrive at a place of peaceful acceptance. It’s a lot of emotional administration for someone you don’t even like.
Of course, there’s enormous value in empathy and understanding. People are complicated, and few of us behave beautifully all the time. But understanding why someone acted badly doesn’t necessarily make their behaviour acceptable.
Someone can have a difficult childhood and still be a terrible friend. They can be struggling with their own problems and still treat you appallingly. They can have perfectly understandable reasons for their behaviour and still owe you an apology.
Compassion is admirable. Compulsory compassion is exhausting.
And sometimes, after carefully considering every possible explanation for someone’s behaviour, you might arrive at a perfectly reasonable conclusion.
They’re just not very nice.
The Trouble With Being the Bigger Person
Ah, the bigger person. That magnificent, endlessly patient creature who rises above conflict, refuses to engage in petty arguments and responds to betrayal with dignity, perspective and perhaps a thoughtfully worded text message.
Everyone wants to be the bigger person. Nobody particularly enjoys doing the work.
Because being the bigger person often seems to involve swallowing your own feelings while the smaller person carries on behaving exactly as they please.
They say something cruel. You’re encouraged not to react.
They betray your trust. You’re told to understand their perspective.
They refuse to apologise. Apparently, it’s your responsibility to find closure.
At some point, one begins to wonder whether being the bigger person is simply another way of saying that the person who behaved badly gets to avoid the consequences.
Now, emotional maturity certainly doesn’t mean screaming at people in restaurants or plotting elaborate revenge involving their favourite houseplants. Restraint is generally a good thing, particularly where the police might become involved.
But emotional maturity also doesn’t require you to pretend that everything is fine. You can behave with dignity and still be furious.
You can refuse to engage with someone while privately believing they are an absolute nightmare. You can wish for peace without wishing them a particularly wonderful Christmas. These things can coexist.
Not Everyone Deserves Your Forgiveness
Forgiveness has become something of a cultural obsession.
We’re told it’s necessary for healing, that holding onto resentment keeps us trapped in the past and that the only way to truly move forward is to release our anger.
Sometimes that’s true. Forgiveness can be incredibly freeing, particularly when carrying resentment has become more painful than the original experience.
But there’s a difference between choosing to forgive and feeling morally obliged to forgive.
Some people have done things that cannot be easily explained away. Some betrayals fundamentally change relationships. Some people have demonstrated, repeatedly and enthusiastically, that they cannot be trusted.
And not every person who hurts you is entitled to return to your life simply because enough time has passed.
You might eventually understand what happened. You might stop feeling angry. You might even reach a point where you genuinely hope they’re doing well.
Or you might not. Forgiveness isn’t a public service you’re required to provide.
More importantly, forgiveness and reconciliation are two completely different things. You can release resentment without inviting someone back into your home, your friendships or your life.
For anyone who has experienced a painful breakdown in a relationship, our article on how to rebuild trust after a lie explores why genuine repair requires accountability and changed behaviour, not just a beautifully delivered apology.
And sometimes, the most sensible thing you can do is accept that someone has revealed themselves to be a person you would rather not know.
No dramatic confrontation required. Just a polite withdrawal from their entire existence.
Perhaps We Don’t Hate People. Perhaps We Hate What They Got Away With.
Here’s where things become interesting. Sometimes the person we believe we hate isn’t actually the central problem. It’s the injustice.
It’s the fact that someone behaved terribly and apparently experienced no consequences. They lied, manipulated, betrayed or humiliated you, and then somehow continued living a perfectly pleasant life.
They bought a house. They went on holiday. They posted smiling photographs from Italy.
Meanwhile, you’re still mentally revisiting an argument from three years ago while unloading the dishwasher. The unfairness can be infuriating.
We like to believe that the world operates according to some basic moral principles. Good people should be rewarded. Bad people should eventually be exposed. Somewhere, somehow, there should be an accounting.
Unfortunately, life is not especially interested in providing us with a satisfying third act.
Sometimes people who behave badly get away with it.
They remain popular. They have successful careers. They get married, buy beautiful furniture and appear to enjoy excellent holidays.
There is no dramatic reckoning. No public apology. No moment when everybody finally discovers what you knew all along.
And perhaps that’s one of the hardest things to accept.
Not that someone hurt us, but that the world didn’t particularly notice. Hatred can become a way of continuing to demand justice long after the opportunity for it has passed.
The problem is that our private resentment rarely inconveniences the person responsible. They’re enjoying an Aperol spritz in Positano.
The Extraordinary Effort of Pretending to Like Everyone
There’s also something rather absurd about our collective insistence on universal goodwill.
We’re constantly encouraged to surround ourselves with positive people, cultivate meaningful connections and approach every interaction with kindness.
All very admirable.
But somewhere along the way, we seem to have developed the idea that being a good person means finding something redeeming in absolutely everyone.
Why?
There are billions of people in the world. Statistically, at least a few of them are going to be dreadful. Some people are selfish. Some are dishonest. Some are manipulative. Some seem to derive an almost artistic pleasure from making other people’s lives difficult.
And some are simply not your people. You don’t have to like everyone. You don’t have to admire everyone. You don’t have to maintain a relationship with someone simply because you have a shared history, mutual friends or an unfortunate connection through marriage.
This is particularly true of friendships, where the weight of history can make endings feel almost impossible. As we explored in The Exquisite Pain of Old Friendships, the people who knew us longest aren’t always the people who understand us best.
Sometimes the most liberating realisation is that a relationship has run its course.
And sometimes you don’t need a profound psychological explanation. You just don’t like them anymore.
Can We Please Stop Turning Every Grudge Into a Healing Journey?
Modern wellness culture has given us some genuinely valuable tools for understanding ourselves.
Therapy is useful. Emotional awareness matters. Learning to communicate properly can transform relationships.
But there is a slightly ridiculous side to the endless pressure to process, unpack and heal absolutely everything.
You can’t simply dislike someone anymore.
You have to investigate why their behaviour activates your nervous system, identify which boundary was crossed, consider whether the interaction reflects an unresolved childhood experience and develop an appropriate strategy for releasing emotional attachment.
By the time you’ve finished, you’ve spent six weeks analysing a person you were hoping never to think about again.
Perhaps the occasional grudge doesn’t require a personal development programme.
Perhaps you can simply acknowledge that someone behaved badly, decide you’d prefer not to see them again and get on with your Tuesday.
Not every uncomfortable emotion is a problem requiring intervention.
Sometimes anger is an appropriate response to something genuinely unfair.
Sometimes disappointment is simply disappointment.
And sometimes the person you can’t stand is, in fact, behaving in a way that makes them exceptionally difficult to stand.
Of course, if resentment is consuming your thoughts, affecting your relationships or making everyday life miserable, it deserves attention. Talking things through with someone you trust, or a professional, can be helpful.
But there’s an important distinction between processing pain and turning every negative emotion into a permanent self-improvement project.
You are allowed to experience an unpleasant feeling without immediately trying to become a better person because of it.
The Secret Pleasure of a Harmless Grudge
Let’s acknowledge something that nobody particularly likes admitting. A very small, entirely harmless grudge can be oddly satisfying.
There is a certain pleasure in the raised eyebrow shared between two friends when a particularly difficult acquaintance enters a room.
There is comfort in knowing that someone else remembers exactly what happened at that disastrous dinner party in 2019.
And there is sometimes enormous satisfaction in hearing that the person who once treated you appallingly has developed a minor but inconvenient problem involving airport luggage.
Not a serious problem, obviously. We’re not monsters. Just perhaps a suitcase that arrives two days late.
Human beings are not endlessly generous, emotionally immaculate creatures. We’re complicated, occasionally petty and capable of holding contradictory feelings at exactly the same time.
We can wish someone no genuine harm while also having absolutely no desire to see them succeed spectacularly.
We can be delighted with our own lives and still think an old adversary is a complete idiot.
We can believe in kindness while quietly enjoying the fact that someone who once considered themselves superior to everybody else now has an unfortunate haircut.
This is not necessarily a moral crisis. It’s being human. The important thing is what we do with those feelings.
A private eye-roll is one thing. Cruelty, harassment, humiliation or revenge are quite another. Hatred directed at entire groups of people is not the same as anger towards an individual who has personally hurt you.
Feeling something doesn’t automatically justify acting on it. And perhaps that’s where genuine maturity begins.
But Is Holding Onto Hate Actually Worth It?
Here’s the inconvenient truth. Even if hatred is sometimes understandable, that doesn’t necessarily make it enjoyable to carry around.
There is a difference between acknowledging that someone treated you terribly and allowing that person to occupy a permanent, rent-free apartment in your head.
The first can be an act of self-respect. The second can become exhausting.
Because hatred requires attention. It asks you to remember, rehearse, compare and revisit. It encourages you to keep checking whether the other person has suffered sufficiently for whatever they did.
And the answer is almost never yes.
The fantasy of revenge is often much more satisfying than the reality would be.
Even if someone eventually experiences the consequences of their actions, it doesn’t magically undo what happened.
The apology may never arrive. The public vindication might never happen. The person may never become sufficiently self-aware to understand what they did.
And waiting for them to do so can keep you emotionally attached to someone you would otherwise be delighted to forget.
There’s a particular freedom in realising that you no longer need them to understand.
You know what happened.
You know how it affected you.
You know why you don’t want them in your life.
And that can be enough.
Maybe Indifference Is the Real Luxury
We spend so much time talking about forgiveness as the ultimate emotional achievement. But perhaps the real prize isn’t forgiveness. Perhaps it’s indifference.
Not the dramatic kind, where you post inspirational quotes about protecting your peace while secretly checking someone’s Instagram stories through a friend’s account.
Actual indifference. The kind where you hear their name and feel absolutely nothing.
Where someone tells you they’ve moved overseas, got divorced, won an award or purchased an exceptionally expensive car, and your response is a mildly interested “Oh, really?” before returning to the much more important matter of what to order for lunch.
Imagine the freedom. No anger. No jealousy. No fascination. No need to know what they’re doing or whether life has finally delivered the consequences you believe they deserve.
Just an almost luxurious absence of interest.
Indifference doesn’t require you to rewrite history. It doesn’t mean what happened was acceptable. It simply means the experience no longer occupies the same emotional space.
You don’t have to love someone. You don’t even have to forgive them. You can simply become wonderfully, gloriously uninterested.
And for someone who once had the power to ruin your day, that might be the most satisfying ending of all.
So, Is It Ever Actually Okay to Hate Someone?
Yes, sometimes.
Not because hatred is particularly noble, attractive or worth cultivating, but because human emotions are not always tidy, rational or morally impressive.
Sometimes people hurt us badly. Sometimes we’re betrayed by people we trusted. Sometimes anger is entirely justified, and pretending otherwise doesn’t make us kinder or more evolved.
The important distinction is between what we feel and what we choose to do.
You can hate someone’s behaviour without seeking revenge. You can be furious without being cruel. You can decide that a person no longer belongs in your life without making their downfall your life’s work.
And you can move forward without forcing yourself into a forgiveness narrative that doesn’t feel honest.
Perhaps the goal isn’t to become someone who never hates.
Perhaps it’s to become someone whose happiness is no longer dependent on what happens to the people they dislike.
Because life is short, and there are wonderful places to visit, delicious things to eat, interesting people to meet and far better conversations to have than the one you’ve been mentally conducting with your least favourite person since 2018.
You don’t have to wish them well.
You don’t have to wish them harm.
You don’t have to wish them anything at all.
And if their name comes up over dinner?
You can always take a sip of wine, raise an eyebrow and say, “Oh, are they still around?”
Then order dessert.
Photo by Anna Shvets
FAQs
Is it normal to hate someone who has hurt you?
Yes. Strong feelings of anger, resentment or hatred can arise after betrayal, mistreatment or a painful relationship breakdown. Experiencing those emotions doesn’t make you a bad person. What matters is how you respond to them and whether they begin to interfere with your wellbeing.
Do you have to forgive someone to move on?
No. Forgiveness can be helpful for some people, but it isn’t a compulsory part of moving forward. You can accept what happened, establish boundaries and build a happy life without reconciling with the person responsible.
What’s the difference between anger and hatred?
Anger is often a response to a particular event, injustice or behaviour. Hatred tends to be a more enduring negative feeling directed towards a person. Both can be understandable, but persistent hatred may become emotionally draining if it dominates your thoughts.
Is holding a grudge always unhealthy?
Not necessarily. Remembering how someone treated you can help you make sensible decisions about future contact and trust. The distinction is between using that memory to protect yourself and repeatedly revisiting it in ways that leave you distressed.
How do you stop thinking about someone you hate?
Reducing unnecessary contact, limiting social media checking and redirecting attention towards meaningful relationships and activities may help. If the thoughts feel intrusive or overwhelming, speaking with a mental health professional can offer useful strategies.
Can you dislike someone and still be a good person?
Absolutely. Being kind doesn’t mean liking everyone or overlooking harmful behaviour. You can maintain personal boundaries, treat people with basic respect and choose not to have a relationship with someone you dislike.
What to Read Next
If you’ve enjoyed this slightly uncomfortable exploration of human behaviour, relationships and the fine art of not being a saint, explore The Exquisite Pain of Old Friendships.
We live in an age of extraordinary emotional enlightenment. We’re encouraged to practise gratitude, embrace empathy, set healthy boundaries, forgive those who have wronged us and send positive energy out into the universe. Preferably before breakfast, after journalling and a quick meditation.
But what if, despite all this personal growth, there is someone you just really, really hate?
Not someone who mildly annoys you. Not the colleague who insists on heating tuna in the communal microwave, or the woman at Pilates who treats the reformer studio like her personal Instagram studio. We’re talking about the person whose very name makes something unpleasant happen to your facial expression. The person who behaved so badly, so selfishly or so spectacularly without conscience that the mere mention of them can ruin an otherwise perfectly lovely lunch.
Perhaps it’s an ex-partner, a former friend, a manipulative relative or someone who managed to make your life thoroughly miserable before sailing off into the sunset without so much as an apology.
And yet, somehow, we’re supposed to wish them well.
We’re told that holding onto hatred is unhealthy, that forgiveness is freedom and that resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to suffer. Which is a lovely sentiment, although one suspects it was probably invented by someone who had never been properly betrayed.
So here’s a rather uncomfortable question. Is it ever actually okay to hate someone? And, perhaps more interestingly, why are we so determined to pretend that we don’t?
When Did Hating Someone Become Such a Personal Failure?
There was a time when disliking someone was a perfectly ordinary part of being human.
Your grandmother could have spent 40 years refusing to speak to her sister over an incident involving a Christmas pudding in 1973, and nobody thought she needed a healing journey. Your grandfather might have despised the man who lived three doors down, although the precise reason had been lost somewhere around 1986.
People had enemies. They had grudges. They had people they wouldn’t invite to dinner.
Life continued.
Now, expressing strong dislike for another person can feel like admitting you’ve failed some kind of emotional intelligence examination.
You’re supposed to understand their behaviour, consider their childhood, recognise their trauma, appreciate their perspective and ultimately arrive at a place of peaceful acceptance. It’s a lot of emotional administration for someone you don’t even like.
Of course, there’s enormous value in empathy and understanding. People are complicated, and few of us behave beautifully all the time. But understanding why someone acted badly doesn’t necessarily make their behaviour acceptable.
Someone can have a difficult childhood and still be a terrible friend. They can be struggling with their own problems and still treat you appallingly. They can have perfectly understandable reasons for their behaviour and still owe you an apology.
Compassion is admirable. Compulsory compassion is exhausting.
And sometimes, after carefully considering every possible explanation for someone’s behaviour, you might arrive at a perfectly reasonable conclusion.
They’re just not very nice.
The Trouble With Being the Bigger Person
Ah, the bigger person. That magnificent, endlessly patient creature who rises above conflict, refuses to engage in petty arguments and responds to betrayal with dignity, perspective and perhaps a thoughtfully worded text message.
Everyone wants to be the bigger person. Nobody particularly enjoys doing the work.
Because being the bigger person often seems to involve swallowing your own feelings while the smaller person carries on behaving exactly as they please.
They say something cruel. You’re encouraged not to react.
They betray your trust. You’re told to understand their perspective.
They refuse to apologise. Apparently, it’s your responsibility to find closure.
At some point, one begins to wonder whether being the bigger person is simply another way of saying that the person who behaved badly gets to avoid the consequences.
Now, emotional maturity certainly doesn’t mean screaming at people in restaurants or plotting elaborate revenge involving their favourite houseplants. Restraint is generally a good thing, particularly where the police might become involved.
But emotional maturity also doesn’t require you to pretend that everything is fine. You can behave with dignity and still be furious.
You can refuse to engage with someone while privately believing they are an absolute nightmare. You can wish for peace without wishing them a particularly wonderful Christmas. These things can coexist.
Not Everyone Deserves Your Forgiveness
Forgiveness has become something of a cultural obsession.
We’re told it’s necessary for healing, that holding onto resentment keeps us trapped in the past and that the only way to truly move forward is to release our anger.
Sometimes that’s true. Forgiveness can be incredibly freeing, particularly when carrying resentment has become more painful than the original experience.
But there’s a difference between choosing to forgive and feeling morally obliged to forgive.
Some people have done things that cannot be easily explained away. Some betrayals fundamentally change relationships. Some people have demonstrated, repeatedly and enthusiastically, that they cannot be trusted.
And not every person who hurts you is entitled to return to your life simply because enough time has passed.
You might eventually understand what happened. You might stop feeling angry. You might even reach a point where you genuinely hope they’re doing well.
Or you might not. Forgiveness isn’t a public service you’re required to provide.
More importantly, forgiveness and reconciliation are two completely different things. You can release resentment without inviting someone back into your home, your friendships or your life.
For anyone who has experienced a painful breakdown in a relationship, our article on how to rebuild trust after a lie explores why genuine repair requires accountability and changed behaviour, not just a beautifully delivered apology.
And sometimes, the most sensible thing you can do is accept that someone has revealed themselves to be a person you would rather not know.
No dramatic confrontation required. Just a polite withdrawal from their entire existence.
Perhaps We Don’t Hate People. Perhaps We Hate What They Got Away With.
Here’s where things become interesting. Sometimes the person we believe we hate isn’t actually the central problem. It’s the injustice.
It’s the fact that someone behaved terribly and apparently experienced no consequences. They lied, manipulated, betrayed or humiliated you, and then somehow continued living a perfectly pleasant life.
They bought a house. They went on holiday. They posted smiling photographs from Italy.
Meanwhile, you’re still mentally revisiting an argument from three years ago while unloading the dishwasher. The unfairness can be infuriating.
We like to believe that the world operates according to some basic moral principles. Good people should be rewarded. Bad people should eventually be exposed. Somewhere, somehow, there should be an accounting.
Unfortunately, life is not especially interested in providing us with a satisfying third act.
Sometimes people who behave badly get away with it.
They remain popular. They have successful careers. They get married, buy beautiful furniture and appear to enjoy excellent holidays.
There is no dramatic reckoning. No public apology. No moment when everybody finally discovers what you knew all along.
And perhaps that’s one of the hardest things to accept.
Not that someone hurt us, but that the world didn’t particularly notice. Hatred can become a way of continuing to demand justice long after the opportunity for it has passed.
The problem is that our private resentment rarely inconveniences the person responsible. They’re enjoying an Aperol spritz in Positano.
The Extraordinary Effort of Pretending to Like Everyone
There’s also something rather absurd about our collective insistence on universal goodwill.
We’re constantly encouraged to surround ourselves with positive people, cultivate meaningful connections and approach every interaction with kindness.
All very admirable.
But somewhere along the way, we seem to have developed the idea that being a good person means finding something redeeming in absolutely everyone.
Why?
There are billions of people in the world. Statistically, at least a few of them are going to be dreadful. Some people are selfish. Some are dishonest. Some are manipulative. Some seem to derive an almost artistic pleasure from making other people’s lives difficult.
And some are simply not your people. You don’t have to like everyone. You don’t have to admire everyone. You don’t have to maintain a relationship with someone simply because you have a shared history, mutual friends or an unfortunate connection through marriage.
This is particularly true of friendships, where the weight of history can make endings feel almost impossible. As we explored in The Exquisite Pain of Old Friendships, the people who knew us longest aren’t always the people who understand us best.
Sometimes the most liberating realisation is that a relationship has run its course.
And sometimes you don’t need a profound psychological explanation. You just don’t like them anymore.
Can We Please Stop Turning Every Grudge Into a Healing Journey?
Modern wellness culture has given us some genuinely valuable tools for understanding ourselves.
Therapy is useful. Emotional awareness matters. Learning to communicate properly can transform relationships.
But there is a slightly ridiculous side to the endless pressure to process, unpack and heal absolutely everything.
You can’t simply dislike someone anymore.
You have to investigate why their behaviour activates your nervous system, identify which boundary was crossed, consider whether the interaction reflects an unresolved childhood experience and develop an appropriate strategy for releasing emotional attachment.
By the time you’ve finished, you’ve spent six weeks analysing a person you were hoping never to think about again.
Perhaps the occasional grudge doesn’t require a personal development programme.
Perhaps you can simply acknowledge that someone behaved badly, decide you’d prefer not to see them again and get on with your Tuesday.
Not every uncomfortable emotion is a problem requiring intervention.
Sometimes anger is an appropriate response to something genuinely unfair.
Sometimes disappointment is simply disappointment.
And sometimes the person you can’t stand is, in fact, behaving in a way that makes them exceptionally difficult to stand.
Of course, if resentment is consuming your thoughts, affecting your relationships or making everyday life miserable, it deserves attention. Talking things through with someone you trust, or a professional, can be helpful.
But there’s an important distinction between processing pain and turning every negative emotion into a permanent self-improvement project.
You are allowed to experience an unpleasant feeling without immediately trying to become a better person because of it.
The Secret Pleasure of a Harmless Grudge
Let’s acknowledge something that nobody particularly likes admitting. A very small, entirely harmless grudge can be oddly satisfying.
There is a certain pleasure in the raised eyebrow shared between two friends when a particularly difficult acquaintance enters a room.
There is comfort in knowing that someone else remembers exactly what happened at that disastrous dinner party in 2019.
And there is sometimes enormous satisfaction in hearing that the person who once treated you appallingly has developed a minor but inconvenient problem involving airport luggage.
Not a serious problem, obviously. We’re not monsters. Just perhaps a suitcase that arrives two days late.
Human beings are not endlessly generous, emotionally immaculate creatures. We’re complicated, occasionally petty and capable of holding contradictory feelings at exactly the same time.
We can wish someone no genuine harm while also having absolutely no desire to see them succeed spectacularly.
We can be delighted with our own lives and still think an old adversary is a complete idiot.
We can believe in kindness while quietly enjoying the fact that someone who once considered themselves superior to everybody else now has an unfortunate haircut.
This is not necessarily a moral crisis. It’s being human. The important thing is what we do with those feelings.
A private eye-roll is one thing. Cruelty, harassment, humiliation or revenge are quite another. Hatred directed at entire groups of people is not the same as anger towards an individual who has personally hurt you.
Feeling something doesn’t automatically justify acting on it. And perhaps that’s where genuine maturity begins.
But Is Holding Onto Hate Actually Worth It?
Here’s the inconvenient truth. Even if hatred is sometimes understandable, that doesn’t necessarily make it enjoyable to carry around.
There is a difference between acknowledging that someone treated you terribly and allowing that person to occupy a permanent, rent-free apartment in your head.
The first can be an act of self-respect. The second can become exhausting.
Because hatred requires attention. It asks you to remember, rehearse, compare and revisit. It encourages you to keep checking whether the other person has suffered sufficiently for whatever they did.
And the answer is almost never yes.
The fantasy of revenge is often much more satisfying than the reality would be.
Even if someone eventually experiences the consequences of their actions, it doesn’t magically undo what happened.
The apology may never arrive. The public vindication might never happen. The person may never become sufficiently self-aware to understand what they did.
And waiting for them to do so can keep you emotionally attached to someone you would otherwise be delighted to forget.
There’s a particular freedom in realising that you no longer need them to understand.
You know what happened.
You know how it affected you.
You know why you don’t want them in your life.
And that can be enough.
Maybe Indifference Is the Real Luxury
We spend so much time talking about forgiveness as the ultimate emotional achievement. But perhaps the real prize isn’t forgiveness. Perhaps it’s indifference.
Not the dramatic kind, where you post inspirational quotes about protecting your peace while secretly checking someone’s Instagram stories through a friend’s account.
Actual indifference. The kind where you hear their name and feel absolutely nothing.
Where someone tells you they’ve moved overseas, got divorced, won an award or purchased an exceptionally expensive car, and your response is a mildly interested “Oh, really?” before returning to the much more important matter of what to order for lunch.
Imagine the freedom. No anger. No jealousy. No fascination. No need to know what they’re doing or whether life has finally delivered the consequences you believe they deserve.
Just an almost luxurious absence of interest.
Indifference doesn’t require you to rewrite history. It doesn’t mean what happened was acceptable. It simply means the experience no longer occupies the same emotional space.
You don’t have to love someone. You don’t even have to forgive them. You can simply become wonderfully, gloriously uninterested.
And for someone who once had the power to ruin your day, that might be the most satisfying ending of all.
So, Is It Ever Actually Okay to Hate Someone?
Yes, sometimes.
Not because hatred is particularly noble, attractive or worth cultivating, but because human emotions are not always tidy, rational or morally impressive.
Sometimes people hurt us badly. Sometimes we’re betrayed by people we trusted. Sometimes anger is entirely justified, and pretending otherwise doesn’t make us kinder or more evolved.
The important distinction is between what we feel and what we choose to do.
You can hate someone’s behaviour without seeking revenge. You can be furious without being cruel. You can decide that a person no longer belongs in your life without making their downfall your life’s work.
And you can move forward without forcing yourself into a forgiveness narrative that doesn’t feel honest.
Perhaps the goal isn’t to become someone who never hates.
Perhaps it’s to become someone whose happiness is no longer dependent on what happens to the people they dislike.
Because life is short, and there are wonderful places to visit, delicious things to eat, interesting people to meet and far better conversations to have than the one you’ve been mentally conducting with your least favourite person since 2018.
You don’t have to wish them well.
You don’t have to wish them harm.
You don’t have to wish them anything at all.
And if their name comes up over dinner?
You can always take a sip of wine, raise an eyebrow and say, “Oh, are they still around?”
Then order dessert.
FAQs
Is it normal to hate someone who has hurt you?
Yes. Strong feelings of anger, resentment or hatred can arise after betrayal, mistreatment or a painful relationship breakdown. Experiencing those emotions doesn’t make you a bad person. What matters is how you respond to them and whether they begin to interfere with your wellbeing.
Do you have to forgive someone to move on?
No. Forgiveness can be helpful for some people, but it isn’t a compulsory part of moving forward. You can accept what happened, establish boundaries and build a happy life without reconciling with the person responsible.
What’s the difference between anger and hatred?
Anger is often a response to a particular event, injustice or behaviour. Hatred tends to be a more enduring negative feeling directed towards a person. Both can be understandable, but persistent hatred may become emotionally draining if it dominates your thoughts.
Is holding a grudge always unhealthy?
Not necessarily. Remembering how someone treated you can help you make sensible decisions about future contact and trust. The distinction is between using that memory to protect yourself and repeatedly revisiting it in ways that leave you distressed.
How do you stop thinking about someone you hate?
Reducing unnecessary contact, limiting social media checking and redirecting attention towards meaningful relationships and activities may help. If the thoughts feel intrusive or overwhelming, speaking with a mental health professional can offer useful strategies.
Can you dislike someone and still be a good person?
Absolutely. Being kind doesn’t mean liking everyone or overlooking harmful behaviour. You can maintain personal boundaries, treat people with basic respect and choose not to have a relationship with someone you dislike.
What to Read Next
If you’ve enjoyed this slightly uncomfortable exploration of human behaviour, relationships and the fine art of not being a saint, explore The Exquisite Pain of Old Friendships.
Why the people who’ve known us the longest can sometimes be the hardest to love, and why old friendships are rarely as simple as we’d like. Read How to Tell If You Married Badly, and What to Do About It
Are we finally getting tired of trying to be perfect? Why the beautifully curated life is beginning to lose some of its shine. Read The Great Rejection of the Perfect Life: Why Perfection Culture Has Lost Its Appeal.
Forget the sports cars and dramatic affairs. The modern midlife crisis might involve a dishwasher, career fatigue and an overwhelming desire to be left alone. Read The Millennial Midlife Crisis Has Arrived, and It’s Nothing Like Their Parents.
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