I hate this feeling. Shame. I do not feel open and accepting or like meeting shame. I mean who welcomes shame? It is painful. Like today, when I had an unpleasant interaction and someone is not liking me. More than not liking me, they are avoiding me and thinking I am unwoke slime.
It doesn’t help much to think that any time we react, it’s more about what’s in me than the other person, so transitively, their reaction reflects their needs. My reaction comes from a healthy dose of verbal abuse in my childhood. There’s that old fear of my father being enraged and saying cutting words I thought my brothers and sisters, and even the whole big wide world, would believe. My shame said he was right, and I was all those things. If I knew more or was better, he wouldn’t be angry.
Shame only happens in a relationship when there is a sense I’ve damaged our connection. I’ve done something to make someone stop loving or including me. I’ve hurt my reputation, and I am disconnected. In short, I am unlovable, at least by that person or group.
“It’s not the truth, just because someone else thinks it.” I remind that young, scared part of me that is relieved to hear that. And there is also that contingent self-esteem that relies on the good opinion of others and is so easily bruised when we fall out with someone. It is hard to esteem myself and think well of myself when someone judges and blames me–even if they don’t understand me or my motives. It still smarts.
As I learn again and again, it’s about the ability to see what is happening in me, not to put the responsibility to care for this pain out into the world but to care for it myself. So what does caring for myself mean? Or look like?
My Shame Accompaniment:
For me, it means that I first stop and locate the emotion of shame. Today, it’s in the center of my chest like a pulling inward, collapsing on itself.
Then I breathe with this feeling, letting it know I care about this shame. I care about this sensitive, tender heart. I can help teach this feeling to breathe and let it know it is accompanied.
When there’s more calm, I ask this shame, “What are you afraid of?” Today, the shame is afraid that others won’t like me either, and I will lose my community. Everyone will cancel me. “Of course you’re scared. You want to be seen and valued just as you are.”
I wonder if I can see and value myself, just as I am when someone is angry with me. “Even though one person is upset, I still love you, honey. I’ve got you.” And I stay with that intention to be that warm presence of care for myself.
There’s a shifting, and I notice shame has faded and sadness is here. I listen, then ask, “What do you need from me, my sadness?” I hear the longing for gentleness, for safety. I can hold those emotions with gentleness in a safe place. I have an imaginary island I visit with my shame and sadness where we can just be beneath the White Pines in this cool, soft moss garden, a whole island covered in moss.
I ask if there’s more I need to know and hear, “Remember, you are grown. You have trained to mediate disputes. You can drive a car. You have people who think you are lovable and sometimes even wise.” Hmm. This seems like new information to that shamed and sad part. I am not seven? What? I am not helpless and won’t kick myself out of my heart because someone has their own feelings?
When I take the time to actively connect with this emotion of shame and let it know that no matter what happens, I am there for myself. Coming back to painful emotions helps me heal. It also helps me be an adult–someone who has learned how to heal from the past, drop by drop in the present moment.
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