Shame Stories

Once upon a time, I was in college, and I liked a boy. And for some reason I decided that this time I would do something different than I typically did, and try and make it clear to the boy that I liked him. It did not go well. It was awkward and painful and in the end I felt rejected and embarrassed.

The good news is that I went on to have other romantic relationships, one of which led to marrying a man I love and am deeply grateful for. The bad news is that I left that experience with some shame. And the surprising thing is that I still carry some of that shame with me today. Somehow, that singular experience informed some of the way that I talk to myself and think about who I am. Over a full decade later, and I still feel uncomfortable when I remember the details. And it’s silly, because it really wasn’t that big of a deal. But somehow, at an emotional level, it was.

Most of us have stories like this. The time when you were being silly in class and a teacher yelled at you in a way that left you feeling exposed and humiliated. The moment when you forgot your line, dropped a pass, or sang off key. The party you weren’t invited to, the mean thing someone said, or the whispers you knew were about you. In retrospect, they seem like they should be small little nothings, not even remembered in your personal narrative. But somehow they become big. Somehow they become defining points in how we think about who we are and our place in the world.

The other night I was at dinner with two friends, women I love and admire and have known for a very long time. And somehow I started sharing that particular story. Not just in a glossy, “wasn’t-dating-awful” kind of way, but in a real and honest way that acknowledged the full impact of that experience. And much to my surprise, I felt some of that shame fall away.

I know this is how it works. But it still shocks me. Vulnerability and connection are the healing agents for the wounds of shame. Telling our stories in safe places with safe people allows us to move beyond the feelings of shame and self-condemnation. It helps us to put the stories back in the full context of our lives, and allows people who love us to tell us who we really are, thus silencing the cruel messages that shame whispers.

I know that it’s scary. I know that sharing these stories in an honest way is hard, brave work. But it is also freeing, life-giving work. I highly recommend reading “Daring Greatly,” by Brene Brown, or listening to her famous TED talk, “The Power of Vulnerability.” Her research and writing on shame and vulnerability are incredibly powerful.

One of the many ways that shame is sneaky is that it goes undercover for long periods of time. We may not think about our stories for months or even years. But every now and then they creep back into our conscious awareness and we are reminded that they are still there. We have to pay close attention to these reminders, because they notify us of something insidious happening beneath our awareness.

When you come across these little reminders, thoughts of stories that carry feelings of shame and self-cruelty, be mindful. Spend some time with them, journal about them. And when you feel ready (or maybe even a little before), share them with someone you love and trust. Give them the chance to listen, to validate, to say “me too,” and to remind you about who you really are. And when someone you love begins to share such a story with you, pay close attention and offer them those same gifts.

We all have stories and we all have shame. We also all have the opportunity to pull our shame stories into the light, share them with one another, and find the connection that moves us out of the isolation and humiliation of shame and into a place of connection and wholeness.

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