A few months ago in therapy, I figured out something about myself. I already knew that I couldn't handle positivity. I can't stand compliments (well, I've worked on this in recent years). I tend to think that happy people just don't GET it. And I tear myself down a lot.
But I learned something else. The only time I uniformly assert myself and my identity in a positive way is when someone opposes me or people like me. I can handle dragons fine. Nice people, not so much. And I'm not nice to myself. Apparently, I spent my whole life seeing myself the way other people didn't, and I had a lot of internal defiance about it--ever since I was a kid. So in order to feel positive about myself, I usually need someone to tear me down or say bad things about LGBT people or whatever.
Two sides of the same coin. There's more, but I'm not comfortable talking about it in public. The upshot is that I have to learn to be kind to myself. And my therapist admits that it's a tall order, after I have spent decades thinking I was a freak. I still do. I am the sicko perv that lurks inside my head, where people cannot see it. I don't deserve anything nice. Only when people attack me do I stand up for myself...and I usually do that privately, in a journal or inside my head.
To eradicate these patterns will take time and patience...and practice. Lots of practice.