I don't think you can force yourself to stop hoping, hope goes away on its own.
To truly be utterly hopeless is perhaps rare. I think most people find something to live for, some kind of distraction, able to make some meaning, find some worth, value. Even parents of dependent children kill themselves. People with families who love them. Very successful people, personally and professionally. Not always mental pathology, but a kind of calculus. Unfortunately some parents take their children with them. That may be pathology, or another form of calculus that is quite sad. "Who will care for them if I'm not here?" Adoption and foster care aren't always great alternatives. Safety nets and systems leave vulerable people behind. The weak, the small. Not justifying them, of course not, just speculating what might be going on there. Others may be in psychosis, delusional. Or just .. evil. And where does evil come from? Is it not something more complex, or perhaps more simple? Some disorder of the brain? Is it extreme ego, narcissism, selfishness, sadism? Who knows. Our brains are entire worlds that make meaning and decisions below our conscious level.
You can reach a point where hope leaves. Not just hope for yourself, but for all humanity. For life, the world, and decide there's no place for you in it or you don't want one.
Where suffering is no longer able to be endured, or some intolerable condition, no narrative or story about life or our own life can me made that we can accept. Pain that is intolerable, unendurable. Isolation, loss of identity, ability, any kind of efficacy, agency. Hope.
That's me as a disabled person in terrible pain. Who endures, not lives. Who has thought about this non stop for the past few years since becoming disabled, since developing pain.
But there's a point where hope is irrational.
I suppose it's subjective. There's no baseline, no depth to reach. Just a conclusion you reach, and like life we have different stopping points, different times when we are done, that may differ from someone else.
Time will tell.
For me, I don't hate myself, I love myself. I feel compassion and empathy for myself, even for the world and all people. Including people who hurt me. But I am hopeless, there is nothing to hope for that I can actually have, hold, do, be. Nothing to look forward to, barely anything to look at. Just this.
I don't even have survival instinct. I neglect myself, my surroundings, but I'm also constrained by energy, weakness and pain. I drink fluids, go to the bathroom, graze on food, sleep when it comes. But I have no illusion of a better life. I can imagine one, but I can distinguish between hope and a dream, a fantasy. A wishful thought.
Unfortunately, I'm only here still because I don't know how not to be. I have no method available to me, though I'll keep trying to figure it out.