Today I am writing about shame, belonging and why this matters for our neural health.
–
For the last few decades shame has been slapping me in the face like a cartwheeling monkey.
I thought I’d share about it, to release it from my body, as art into the world.
First, I recognise that my stories are everyone’s and nobody’s. There is shame in the air that we all breathe. I’m not alone in this and for anyone reading this who relates—you are not alone either.
Second, a few older women in my community have stopped me in the street to encourage me to keep sharing my stories publicly. Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to feel seen, heard and witnessed with your warm wisdom and love. I deeply appreciate the invisible scaffolding maintained by the older women in our world—I see you.
So, shame.
Shame lives in every cell of my body.
Since birth I received this golden message from the world:
“Above all else, never, ever be yourself. Anything but that.”
“Quiet down, stop asking questions, don’t whinge, stop exaggerating, settle down, deal with it, enjoy the moment and no—you can’t possibly see/ feel/ think that. Just pretend. Go along with everyone else.”
I learned that only some parts of who I am are accepted. That who I really am is bad, not okay, not welcome and not valued in our world. I shrunk myself down into a private little fairy, bouncing around the world without really committing myself to anyone or anything in case they got too close and discovered who I really was.
I hid myself from everyone. And that seemed to keep everyone happy, except me.
That’s life, right? Don’t complain.
Today, my almost 3 year old cried and cried after I wouldn’t put on his favourite video. He circled the house, tears grunting, head down, arms waving and thrashing. I heard him quietly mumble:
“There’s something wrong with me.”
My heart heard the vibration of shame spiralling from him and into me. I scooped him up and said:
“It makes so much sense that you feel sad, frustrated and want to cry. You are not getting your video and you really want it. There is nothing wrong with you. It makes sense you feel this.”
“Yeah, it’s soooo sad” he exclaimed.
We rested together for 30 mins, heavy into each other slumped on the couch snuggling. Him moaning and me holding his moans.
I want him to escape some of the shame that I absorbed. I want my kids to feel at home in their own nature, comfortable with themselves and willing to bend rules to match their own cadence. I want them to believe themselves when they feel different things to others.
I want my kids to speak up and stand against systems that oppress them. I want them to find friends despite differences.
I want them to feel moved by the world, to trust themselves and feel steady. I don’t want them to hide.
Shame is deep. It’s hard. It’s lonely.
I’ve never had a close companion, blood related or other. I’m not believed when I share that, because I have so many friends and so many beautiful connections in the community, but it is true—my deeper self is invisible. I’m never sure who to call or who to align with. My life has been private, isolated and riddled with shame.
I know I am not alone in this, I’ve since met many others who share my story, and that is why I am starting to talk about it.
Life taught me to connect with others through difference, not sameness. I never met anyone else like me, until I turned 40. I met others who also hide or live bold.
Throughout the decades, I never felt a sense of like-minded others or tribe. That concept was theoretical and unknown to me. I’m an outlier. I see people as they are, I don’t see their social status or allegiances.
I have learned to belong with everyone rather than subscribing to a specific group or thing.
I have learned to be my own friend and chip away at the layers upon layers of shame. To find ways to gradually reveal who I am to others. To not take it personally if they can’t see me or if they don’t believe me.
My unique way of sensing and experiencing the world is not a crime with a life sentence of loneliness; it’s a rare gift that I’m choosing to move into art. This conversation is rich.
Shame lives in privacy and silence. I know this. It’s an ugly critter of a conversation but I feel it is radically important for every single human. All of us.
I dream of a world where we all own our individuation and sit deeply in our truth, honouring who we are, as we are. To be playful and audacious with our quirks.
I dream of a world where we believe each other when we speak up and where we create emotional space for differences.
I dream of a world where we belong with each other because of our beautiful differences rather than being addicted to sameness, cliques, hiding, and monocultures.