Such a dirty word, isn’t it?
Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.
~Brenè Brown~
Shame started as a two-person experience, but as I got older I learned how to do shame all by myself.
~Robert Hilliker~
Shame and vulnerability have been on my mind as of late, and the above quote sums it up. This intense shame carried for so long derives from a combination of that which was given to me by others (family, friends, society), that I have carried so loyally, and my own creations built from that. It feels like a splinter in the paw. Ever present in everything I touch, yet somehow so familiar that I had learned to almost forget it was there. This inability to sit with my own shame has not only prevented me from being able to recognise and sit with others in their shame, oftentimes this meeting of wounds would send me spiralling into fight or flight, unable to face the vulnerability in something so tender.
This most recent part of my journey of stepping into the realm of finally addressing and releasing the shame I carry, around, well, everything… my body and my mind… or perhaps more accurately, simply being me, is confronting to say the least. Somewhere along the lines a snowball of shame began rolling down my hill and it has gathered momentum and size ever since. Others added to it, however, I have done a rather fine job of maintaining it myself. There have been Angels along the way who have tried to help, but the momentum was just too great. Until now. Piece by piece, utilising the resources and help I have gathered along the way, I’m now working towards dissipating this snowball.
It is through my deepest vulnerabilities that I happened upon uncovering this “secret” (ever notice how shame loves to live in the darkest places?). Unlocking the door that has been hiding who I am, standing naked, and finally looking without judgements. Bare. In raw honesty. And not feeling a need to try to control the outcome of that.
This has been both terrifying and liberating. How odd to have discovered that my greatest freedoms lay on the other side of my greatest fears. Being seen. Realising that everything may or may not be true. More importantly, realising that it doesn’t matter. There are weeds in my garden, and I am learning to be ok with that. They serve a purpose and have value, as does everything. I am learning to love my weeds! My garden is not perfect, and I am learning to be ok with that. I have the power to create it to whatever likeness I choose. And I choose for it to be uniquely mine, however that may look, weeds and all.
Somehow this realisation makes all the shame fears seem less powerful. Not less scary… just somehow… less important than they once seemed.
When I began my journey of “I give myself permission…” (to whatever it may be), I didn’t realise that what I was essentially doing was learning to break my chains of shame. However, I see so clearly now that that is what was occurring. It is removing the critics, both inner and outer, from having residence in my choices, and finally simply choosing to be who I am and do what feels necessary in my journey. There is a quiet joy in that. And even if there are plenty of tears, there is also a gentle Freedom.