Shame
“Shame is a soul-eating emotion.”
― Carl Gustav Jung
When I sat down to write on “Shame” I wasn’t sure what to write. There are many experts on shame that have much smarter things to say about it than I ever could. So, what then, would I write about? I guess – the only thing those experts could not – MY experience of shame.
Please remember, retelling our stories backward, can be motivating and inspiring for ourselves and others. We need to remind ourselves that how we got to where we are now, where I am now, took years of repeated intentional behaviors and perception shifts.
I also want to be clear. I still experience shame today. Not like I used to. Not as often and not as sharp, but it is there. Sometimes it feels like a rotten pit deep inside of me. So deep I will never be able to touch it or change it. It tells stories like I am “rotten at my core” and that someday the people I love most in the world will see what I have known all along and leave me. What will they know? The story goes, “They will know you are lazy and worthless. You are a fat b*tch that is too stupid to know about the real world”. It says other things too. Most days it is quiet. It gets louder when I am tired, emotionally exhausted, or have had a particularly hard week.
I don’t remember when I first consciously experienced shame. I was raised Catholic, so everything centered around it. Being BORN requires the sacrament of baptism for Pete’s sake. Then throw in my mother who is somewhere on the NPD spectrum, an absent father, Catechism class, and personal wiring set up for anxiety it really is no wonder I had severe depression and thoughts of ending my own life.
Shame was a constant in my day-to-day life. So much so that my brain would just tell a story to shame myself as if something was “missing” and I couldn’t be “complete” without it. It was my own brand of self-flagellation and a really f*cked up attempt to get the person who was supposed to love me most, to love me at all.
To heal from my experiences, my therapists (I have had several over the years) encouraged me to set boundaries…the rules for engaging with me…and hold them when I interacted with others. My siblings and friends adjusted quickly and without much push-back. YES! There is pushback from time to time (even today) but I have held firm and they have learned to honor and respect the boundary or find someone else to talk to, hang out with, get help from. My parents were more difficult. My dad, because I know he is trying his best even if he doesn’t get it “right” every time. My mother because she lacks empathy. So much so, I have cut off all interactions with her.
Boundaries have not STOPPED me from feeling shame. Nor have they healed it. Boundaries have allowed me to have space between my thoughts, feelings, and actions. They have helped me to protect myself against and from toxic people who kept that shame storm fueled – leading to more anxiety, depression, and thoughts of self-harm.
Boundaries have also allowed me to start my self-compassion journey. Learning to talk to myself with the same compassion I often have for others has been, in a word, HARD. I have had to start out by saying things to myself like, “May I begin to believe I am worthy” and then later I could change it to “May I know my own worth”. Now I practice checking in with myself to see how I am doing and if I need anything (demonstrating my worth) – as I do for my daughters (multiple times a day) – CRAZY! RIGHT?!? To think, we may need a check-in at least once a day.
Other things that have helped me to heal the “shame storm” that lives inside of me include Brene Brown’s Ted Talk, books, and podcast episodes; healing my resentment and taking accountability for my actions; EMDR therapy; learning to live in the messy middle; music; journaling, and so much more.
Ultimately, self-compassion and emotional agility are the antidotes to shame. I know I must keep showing up for me and practicing these things every day until they become as natural as breathing. For now, I will push back against the voice that says, “it’s too hard” and “this is uncomfortable”. I can no longer afford to self-abandon. No one is coming to rescue me…my soul is my responsibility.