Shame: An Old Foe Still in the Shadows
I am not ashamed of who I am or my life experiences. I am not ashamed...
And, yet, there have been far too many moments of my life lived in shame, lived in the shame of someone else's perception of my existence and my experiences. We all have. We wear shame like a prism of everything we've done wrong shrinking us into our smallest selves and projecting reasons to not be loved into the world.
I recently read I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't): Making the Journey from "What Will People Think?" to "I Am Enough" by Brené Brown (read my review). When I started it, I had no intention of doing the exercises; however, I quickly changed my mind. As I read I realized that to have the full experience, to truly understand the book, I needed to do the exercises. Still, to be honest, I didn't
expect to get much out of it...
After all, I'd already done this work... I was sure of it. I'd watched Brown's Ted Talks, including the one, Listening to Shame. I'd taken a couple of her classes, listened to her interviews and presentations, and worked through exercises she offered online. So, I'd done the work... Yes, I had.
So I was surprised when I started working through the exercises and discovered the residual shame in my life. I felt resistant to answering some questions even though I was the only one who would ever see those answers. I felt reluctant to put into words how certain people and societal norms have made me feel about my life, my experiences, my choices at various times in my life.
In the midst of reading the book, someone dear to me commented to me that someone else had no shame. While I understood her meaning, I winced, but she needed to be heard and understood not judged, so I listened and tried to understand where she was coming from. I didn't really know how to respond, but I tried. I wanted to be empathetic, but I also felt uncomfortable with the idea of the need for shame.
Over the next few weeks as I continued to read I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't), I explored the difference in shame, blame, and accountability particularly comparing the ideas presented in the book to how the three manifest in my life. I came to realize that when the friend I was talking to referred to shame, she meant accountability. Yet, shame is the language we use. Shame is what we're used to, so we fall back on it time and again even when what we really desire is accountability.For a long time I've clung to shame for the actions of other people even when I knew I shouldn't. I've not only blamed myself for their actions but shamed myself on their behalf, on society's behalf. I, like many women, have silenced myself to avoid being shamed. I have allowed people to shame me into hiding much of myself. I've allowed people to tell me that I had no reason to be ashamed even as they shamed me into silence.
Life is complicated and it's easy to cast shame on another without giving it a second thought. Sometimes it even feels like shame is the only way to get through to people. The research Brown and others have done find over and over that people mired in shame are less likely to change their behavior than people who can see the difference in blame, doing something bad, and shame, being bad.
My introduction to Brené Brown was her Ted Talk, The Power of Vulnerability, which I referenced in Finding Strength in Vulnerability. I saw it shortly after I'd spent a year pushing myself to do things that made me feel vulnerable. After years spent building walls around myself, I had to force myself to allow myself to be vulnerable. It took effort and it took time, and I'm still not great at it. I wrote numerous poems about the connection between vulnerability and strength, even more than what I included in Strength in Silhouette: Poems and Vulnerability in Silhouette: Poems, my two books of poetry exploring vulnerability and strength, and I've come to realize that many of those poems also explore my relationship with shame and blame.
Until I worked through I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't), I would've told you that I didn't live in shame. I would've said that I knew the difference thinking I'm a bad person and recognizing that I'm a person who did something bad. I would've told you that I held myself accountable for the things I did bad and that I tried to do good in the world. And, I wouldn't have been lying. I truly believed that about myself.... And, it's true in many instances, but not in all. I realized as I read the book and worked through the exercises that I have a tendency toward silencing myself when I think someone might put me in shame. I also have a tendency to replay small mistakes over and over in my head until I turn something someone else has already forgotten into a reason for that person to despise me.
Shame is pervasive in our society. We want people who make mistakes to be shamed rather than take the blame, hold themselves accountable, and make changes. There's something about shame that feels satisfying to those who are shaming others, at least in the moment. I think later it feels dirty and cheap, yet we keep doing it, almost like it's an addiction. But shame always comes back to us, even if its just in the shame of shaming others.
This past year my writing suffered as I dealt with past "shames" that silenced me. I wanted to write about certain life experiences, but I kept stumbling because I kept falling into the "What will people think?" trap. I excused it because when I've been open about my experiences in the past, I have been shamed time and again. I've lost relationships that mattered to me. I've had people try to rewrite my history into one they felt more comfortable being around. So, when I started trying to write about those aspects of my life I feared getting those same responses, those same doubts, those same attitudes... And, I didn't live in shame anymore... No, I didn't... I was convinced I didn't. Instead I lived in silence while pursuing a career dependent on being visible... That's not exactly a recipe for success.
I almost started the previous paragraph "I'm ashamed to admit that I've allowed my writing to suffer this past year as I dealt with past shames that silenced me." We incorporate shame language into everyday conversation with the same ease we incorporate banal greetings like "Hello" and "Goodbye" without even thinking about what that language does. I've been working on becoming more aware of my language when I'm talking as well as when I'm writing and have been appalled at how often shame words sneak into my communication when that's not at all my intention. I'm working on changing that.
Intellectually, I've understood for a long time that making a mistake didn't make me a bad person, and I've particularly understood that about other people. Yet, somehow even with this understanding and even with the ability to tell myself this in most instances, I still find myself pulled into the hole of shame.
I like to think I've developed a certain shame resiliency as Brown defines it in I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't), but I wonder sometimes. If I had more shame resiliency, perhaps, those silences I mentioned earlier would've have become my shield against being shamed. If I had more shame resiliency, maybe I wouldn't let my work suffer because I fear other people's reactions. If I had more shame resiliency, maybe I'd be... a better person? perfect? enough?
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