Today I discovered a new part of me. Well, actually, it’s a very old part, but I saw it in a new way.

This often happens when I’m journaling. I’m writing, then a thought pops into my head that I suddenly, DESPERATELY want to act on. Today, I have to pay rent. This part REALLY wanted me to get up and check if I had enough cash in my wallet, so we would know if I had to go to an ATM first. 

I am going to have to do this at some point. But, I remind this part, it doesn’t matter whether we check now or later, and actually, it would disrupt the journaling, which I’d already decided was the most important thing right now. 

I have been practicing for a while now, not getting up and immediately responding to whatever thought pops up during something I committed to focus on. 

How’s that going? …I use the verb “practice” for a reason. 

Anyway. Today, I stayed with this voice. I didn’t get up to check my wallet. I listened. I talked to it. I felt what was happening in my body. Here’s what I wrote:

As I sit with you, I feel you getting processed and my stomach starts to digest and I have to poop. There is a feeling of sadness or disappointment, like we’re giving up or failing somehow. I sit with that. Now it is more in my neck. Pulsing. A lump of tension in my throat. “What do you want?” I ask. I don’t get an answer. I place my hands gently on my neck and keep listening. 

It is very distant, and it is a young child, crying unconsolably.

I let go of trying to get an answer. Crying unconsolably doesn’t usually yield that. So I just keep my hands on it and breathe. My mind races for a solution. But when I’m crying, I just want to know someone is there. So I start repeating, “I’m right here.” 

I’m right here. I’m right here. 

I start to stroke my neck and chest, and notice how soft the skin is. I continue to remind it of my presence, while soothing myself from the outside. 

I’m right here. I’m right here. 

Eventually, we relax. My shoulders drop and my stomach settles. It starts to be able to talk to me. It is scared. It wants to do everything right. It wants to make sure we get everything done. It is panicked. 

“I understand. There is a lot to do. But there is time. And it’s not as important as being with you right now.” It shies away and doesn’t believe me. I assure it. “Being with you right now is the most important thing I can be doing.” 

I am firm about this. I know there’s s a lot to do, but I’ve lived too many days racing through my to-do list thinking that relief was around the corner to fall for this trap and let this part of me down. This part of me thinks it needs to take extreme responsibility for getting everything done and being perfect. 

I am absolutely positive that the best thing I can do is spend a few minutes soothing this tender, tired child. 

Once it knew that I really was there, and wasn’t going to leave to do something “more important,” I heard a tiny, clear voice: “I need you.” I start to cry at this vulnerable confession from a part of me that never felt entitled to say this before. It needed me. It would try to get my attention with anxious reminders, probably hoping to be rewarded for taking care of us, soothing the fear of missing something important. But the list is endless, because that’s not really what we need to be cared for or soothed.

We just need each other. A moment to breathe together. A moment to be the most important thing.

“I need you,” it said. Gently crying, I tell it, “I’m right here.” 

Shame is corrosive,

It burns to the touch.

Agent of anguish, 

turns my insides to dust.

Quietly raging

it poisons the pipes

Feeding on hatred

And starving out life

Each hand built pyramid

Cut down to sand

Nothing left solid

Nowhere to stand

A tool for control

Now an unchecked power

A tortured seed 

Blooms a tortured flower

My fragile spark 

Craves somewhere safe

To light my way

And grow in faith

A different voice

That stands in power

A golden shield

Shame can’t devour

What is it about shame? It tears us down, but it also hides. It’s so intensely uncomfortable that the mere mention of it makes me want to crawl into a cave and never come out. But that’s how it stays alive, stays active. We don’t recognize it or call it out. Most often, we accept its claims that we are not good enough, and keep moving. It knows exactly where our sore spots are, after all, it created them. So we let it tell us exactly how intolerable we are in all these uniquely specific ways and let it steer our behavior. We avoid the things it programmed us to avoid. At some point, someone told us not to do something, yelled at us, hit us, embarrassed us, withdrew from us or left. Whether we know it or not, those reactions get imprinted in us. DON’T DO THIS THING OR ELSE THIS OTHER THING WILL HAPPEN TO US AGAIN. And we spend our lives tiptoeing around these landmines praying they don’t explode in our faces.

Even more problematic than the behaviors shame wants us to avoid, is the way this mechanism embeds itself into our consciousness and erodes our sense of self. Take a moment to consider a time shame spoke to you. How does its voice sound in your head? I’m guessing it wasn’t super polite. It’s usually pretty aggressive. It wants us to avoid whatever it thinks will be so intolerable AT ALL COSTS (even if it means agreeing that WE are intolerable). It may be telling us we ABSOLUTELY CANNOT pee our pants at the dinner table. In that case, we’d probably agree. Okay, shame, I hear you, I also don’t want to do that, so I will ask to go to the bathroom. But sometimes, it tells us we ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT make a total ass of ourselves by singing karaoke because only attention-seeking ego maniacs would get in front of an audience and think their voice deserves to be heard. Okay, shame, first of all, WHOA. You didn’t need to take that tone with me. Clearly you don’t want me to get up and sing in public.

But what do I want? Maybe I’m afraid that I will look dumb or I won’t sound good. Maybe I’ve seen people sing at karaoke and it felt cringey and that’s not how I want to come off. But…do I really want to live in fear of this bully? Do I want to smack down every thing I’m curious about or challenged by like a whack-a-mole? That’s kind of what it feels like to be yelled at like that - whether it seems like someone else’s voice or my own. Shame is not afraid to take the floor out from under us or cut us down so low, we wouldn’t dare sing karaoke, let alone, think we deserve to have a voice. It’s a slippery, slippery slope.

So, how do I stop shaming myself? A few things have to happen. STEP ONE (and this is the easiest, the hardest and the most important step) commit to not shaming yourself. It’s the easiest because it can be done simply and quickly. It’s the hardest because we have to mean it and take it seriously. If we’ve chronically self-shamed, it’s hard to take ourselves seriously. So, don’t take this step lightly. Take a moment. Place your hand on your heart. Take a breath. Tell yourself in these words or your own: Self, I commit to not shaming you. I commit to listening to you and creating an environment where it is safe to say what you want and need.

Great! Now, STEP TWO is enforcement. I’m going to level set with you. You are not going to overnight stop hearing shame’s voice. Although if you do, congratulations. I can’t wait to read your blog post. The key is how you receive it. When you hear it, you will interrupt the pattern of piling on MORE SHAME. As soon as you catch yourself in this cycle (it may take a few tries), place your hand on your heart, take a breath, and remind yourself of the commitment you made. Feel the energy of that commitment - grounded, aligned with your higher self. Remind yourself why you made it. 

STEP THREE: let yourself feel the physical sensations shame brings with it, while staying grounded in your higher self. Remember that intensely uncomfortable feeling we will do anything to avoid? Well, the more we avoid it, the more power it has over us. When we turn away from it, we reinforce the message that the feeling itself is intolerable, will overpower us, or could kill us. As gross as it is, this is simply not true. So, when that feeling bubbles up, keep your mind focused on your commitment to yourself and use it to observe the physical sensations that come with the shameful thought. Maybe there’s a tightness in your chest. Breathe and watch it. Maybe there’s a churning in your stomach. Breathe and watch it. Maybe you feel disgust in your groin. Breathe and watch it. There’s — No — Rush. Notice if the feelings get more or less tolerable. If they are getting less tolerable and you feel yourself being consumed, let yourself drop it for now, take a few breaths to reset, and go do something else that brings you back to Earth. If it feels more tolerable, congratulations! You’ve processed some of your shame and taught your body that it is okay to feel. Now you have more agency to do whatever it is that you actually want to do. You are more free to not act from reaction or avoidance. Good job!