The kids in the neighborhood congregate at the house next door to play. When they play outside their voices are the background music to my day. I envy them because they are so uninhited and unself-conscious. They are not worried about looking silly or being judged. They even sold rocks this summer and I bought some like every adult in the neighborhood. I know this stage of their lives will end as the world of comparison and judgement awaits them all. They too will soon be thinking “What will people think?”
I feel like shame is in my DNA. I inherited it from my Mother, just as she inherited it from her Mother. My mother got up every morning and dressed herself in shame. I’d like to think that in her sleep and dreams, and in her demented state today, that shame is not able to claim her. How did I know that she was full of shame? She was muted and timid and often seemed afraid. Her question, spoken or unspoken, was “What will people think?” Her default was “It’s all my fault.” As I got older, I understood that she held secrets buried under her shame. Soon I had my own secrets.
I got a double dose of shame, Catholic and female shame. I knew I was a sinner. As I grew up, I was burdened with the overwhelming shame of being a female. I bled every month and my body changed in ways I couldn’t control. Did everyone know I was on my period? I had sexual feelings. Was I a good girl or a slut? Was I pretty and popular? Who knew about that thing I was trying so hard to hide? Sometimes I played “dumb” and other times I berated myself for an A-. I was sure if I was just “myself” that I would be alone and I would never be good enough. A lie was ok if it protected me. And I won’t even begin to share my parenting mistakes and secrets. Motherhood gives birth to babies and guilt and shame.
So how did I get here? Today I am usually at peace with myself and most of the time I feel I am good enough. Many years of therapy, 12 Step programs and just plain hard emotional and spiritual work have been my path. I try to be very aware of my self-talk and how important it is for me to pay attention to what I tell myself. I share my feelings with trusted friends and family too. Shame still nips at my heels, but self-forgiveness keeps me out of reach.
I have compassion for my Mother who did the best she could with what she had. I’m sad she struggled so much with shame and fear of what others thought of her. With help she might have discovered her wonderful self and that she was worthy and deserving of love. Just because. I wish the same for my son,Tyler.
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