On Shame

While I experienced plenty of shame as a child (we all have), and then as a mother (feeling shame as well as doing the shaming), it was not until later in my adult life that I started to learn what shame really was, and its deadly pitfalls. How it robs you of your true self, destroys relationships, and creates an ever-powerful obstacle from experiencing a fulfilled and joy-filled life. And then, if you happen to be one of those blessed people where Christian faith was taught and modeled, there is a good chance that the very thing that should have cleared up all the shame, instead, added a whole other layer that made it all the more complicated. I’ll get to that in another story.

One of my earliest memories of “public” shame happened in the second grade.  All the classes were rehearsing for our Christmas program. We were on the risers in the gymnasium. After going through the first song, Mrs. Ingalls, my teacher, said. “Someone is singing way out of tune…Debbie, could you not sing this time. I think it might be you.” Then, to add insult to injury, Jack, standing in front of me shouted out, “YES, I know it is her!” Then he led others in humiliating laughter. I just remember my pale white Scandinavian face turning beat red with embarrassment. I don’t think I cried. That would’ve been even more humiliating. I just stuffed it, and it found a nice home in my body and psyche somewhere.  

Here’s the deal. Even back then I put my whole self into whatever I was doing. I enthusiastically sang with all my heart. And evidently, with exuberance and volume. Who the heck cares if a 2nd grader is in tune or not? It’s a school Christmas program! But, that one experience of (honest to God trauma) had a huge, huge impact on me, and did damage long into my adulthood. It squelched my desire to sing, AND my ability to sing. I really believe that. I had come from a family of talented musicians, and I really believe there has to be at least a little talent there. From then on, I was extremely self-conscious and ashamed of my (lack of) singing ability.  And here’s the part that really gets to me: I never told anyone about that experience after it happened. Not my mom or dad or other trusted adult. I think I might have been afraid that they would have laughed at me, and in so doing, created more shame.

Granted, this was not trauma like abuse or physical harm.  I know that. But, it is an example of how an adult (who exerted their power as the one in charge) could bring damage to a young, sweet, exuberant little girl that just wanted to sing. Finally, in my late thirties, when I was a mother myself and was working through some of my childhood shame, I brought it up to my therapist. She had me role play a conversation with that 7-year old Debbie.  Then she had me tell Mrs. Ingalls what I had felt and how wrong she was to call me out in public like that. And then, to bring it all full circle, years later when I turned 65, I joined the church choir. It was a bold step, but so very healing.

My new best friend for probably 6 years now (not really) has been author and speaker, Brene Brown. I have attempted to take to heart all her books and her podcasts, especially what she has to say about shame and vulnerability.  

Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.

(Brown, Daring Greatly p.69).

Think about that for a minute…Unworthy of love and belonging! It is no wonder this demon of a thing called shame enters into our relationships and marriages and parenting and our work. It can destroy use causing us to either withdraw in depression or lash out in anger (or both).  

I now have a little checklist I do in my mind when I feel it rising up or being triggered. I have worked hard at not associating my worth with what I do. Instead, I live out of who I am: a beloved child of God, a person of value, deserving of love and belonging because of His tenacious love for me. 

So, now I dance and sing to my heart’s content.