Shame – welcome back old friend

Shame – welcome back old friend

Shame goes so freaking deep it’s insane. It’s a pre-verbal emotion. It’s one that none of us can escape. I knew that I’d need to go another round on this. Of course I did. Still – it hit really hard.

Shame makes us want to hide, want to disappear, want to - not exist.

Shame make us question who we are, question our worth, question the core of our very being.

Yes, shame is THAT powerful.

Like all emotions it’s not one dimensional. You felt shame once, you “fix” it once and you’re done - just doesn’t work. Similar occurrences might be stored in your body lumped together but will, most likely, still need several rounds to be released.

I don’t know how many more rounds I have to go with shame. This wound we discovered was just as deep as last time, but it had different secondary emotions attached to it.

I’m not here to point fingers and I don’t blame my teacher for what she said to me. I was a total teacher’s nightmare as a first grader. I mean who likes a kid who knows EVERYTHING and even points out mistakes on the blackboard. Mistakes made by the teacher. I’m mentioning it because I hope to reach people with a concrete example.

Obviously, first grade was not the first time I encountered shame (that’s usually at around six months), but this one had a lasting effect. It was very early on in first grade, and I would raise my hand a lot. I mean every single time a question was asked. I was then told by the teacher to be quiet and stop showing off.

I was seven and excited to learn.

I was seven and excited that I understood.

I was seven and wanted to answer her questions.

I was seven and had no concept of what “showing off” even meant.

I was seven.

As a result, I stopped participating in class. Completely stopped. This lasted until the end of high school. Deep freaking wound that. And I never understood it. Never understood that my brain was still holding the belief that speaking up when I know things is bad - that it’s “showing off”; that when it happens I should be ashamed.

Until now. Until we worked on a memory from first grade.

I think this example is a good reminder of how words can have a lasting impact. I think I’d have understood if the rule was that everybody should get a turn because we all want to learn. But being shamed like that – not ideal. The way it was handled added to me feeling like there was something fundamentally wrong with me.

That’s the way the kid brain works. It’s unable to distinguish between an undesirable habit and being an undesirable person.

Of course, there are many other and similar instances of shame that were later added on top of this one. I’ll need a bit of time to untangle all of those. They tend to fall into place quite quickly once you realize it’s all linked. But the fact that they all just pile on top of each other is the reason they can affect us decades later.

Weight off my shoulders having released another layer of intense shame from that onion of shame related incidents. It is now working through my body and I’m giving it the time it needs.

Well, trying to. Patience and such. Be gentle with yourselves. Hugs all around.