The Shame We Live

Over my lifetime, I have absorbed a lot of shame. Taking on shame saturates our culture, it is something embedded into the human condition, and it is a toxic poison to our minds and souls but it is most keenly felt in the heart. Shame can be an unbearable feeling—it is self-rejection. I’m wrong. I don’t matter. I’m damaged. I’m not wanted. I don’t fit in. I’m different in a bad way. The many messages of shame eat us alive from the inside out. I hide the shame, bear it in silence like so many of us do, and have moved through life with an intense emotional pressure that no one is allowed to see—not even myself. And though there is no conscious witness to the shame taken on, it’s there, adding to itself with greater weight with each moment of its secret existence.

During the week, I was in a vulnerable group process. The process leader told us to pair off. At that moment, I felt the energy of others pull away like an outgoing riptide. I rapidly tried to make eye contact with the others in the room, but all eyes were averted. The feeling of the energy, the pattern, was familiar. I had experienced it many times, and my mind exploded with memories were I had endured that kind of rejection. In school, I was the one picked last or next to last for team sports; it didn’t matter that I was at least average for athletic ability. The other kids had tagged me as different, as wrong somehow, and no one wanted me around. Because this happened almost every school day, I absorbed constant blows of shame. When we had PE where we got to play on our own, I was not allowed to play with the others; sometimes, other kids were excluded and I could play with them; on rare occasions, I was included but only for the purpose of being targeted (my inclusion provided an opportunity for other kids to bully). In church and in groups as I got older, I encountered pairing offs and I was never chosen. Sometimes, the leader/organizer would pair with me and sometimes there was another person no one wanted.

I had not thought of these experiences in a long time. In effect, I had buried them somewhere in my mind where I did not access. Ever. But the familiar rushing of energy away from me and the averted eyes triggered the memories—all of them. My mind was consumed by the sudden overwhelming level of mental processing. The onslaught on the memories, the feeling of shame, felt like I was being machine-gunned by multiple people, and there was no letup, no ending to the assault as my mind attempted to make sense of it. Pain blossomed throughout my body. And I had what I call a functional blackout where I continue to talk, to smile, to interact as I need to, but I’m no longer really there. Most of my conscious mind was consumed with trying to process the dump of memories and the feelings attached to them. I didn’t want to be too dramatic. I didn’t want to be too intense. I didn’t want to disrupt the process. I didn’t want to be an emotional burden. I didn’t want to appear too sensitive over such a minor outcome. And I have very limited memory of what happened after the pairing was announced (the functional blackout).

I have done a lot of healing work the past 2 years. Once upon a time, I would have “lost” it, started to cry, and I probably would have retreated out of the space. I was able to contain the feelings until everyone left. But then the pain, and the shame, my belief in the rejection of others, my belief in the messages that I took on, broke through my resistance. My mind raced, trying to understand. I held on to the idea that the universe would not have subjected me to so much pain without a reason. Was this an opportunity for healing? Was this an opportunity to heal from a wound that I had buried into the unconsciousness nether regions of my mind? I clung to the hope, and I despaired as well because I didn’t see how the healing would occur.

3 days later, I sat in another smaller circle with 3 other men, 2 of whom where there during the pairing. I told them what had happened, and how I had been triggered, the pain I was experiencing, and my want for healing to come out of it. At an intellectual level, I understood that I was not being rejected—that it played out in large part because of where I was sitting. But my heart did not have that understanding—it only knew what it felt and mere words would not bring relief. Positive feedback of, You’re awesome. you’re worthy, you’re lovable, and other supportive messaging would have felt flat. My brothers worked with me for 2 ½ hours, and one of them saw a way. What followed was some of the deepest connection I’ve ever felt in my life. And the healing flowed. The shame and the pain of those memories flowed out. It was as if they had blown magic dust over my open wound.

I would likely be hurt if it happened again, but my sense is that I would no longer connect it with the past experiences—those experiences are released. I also sense that I would have a different perspective, and that the hurt would be less. And I think about myself and we humans, how we bury and hide our shame because it’s too much to bear. As the memories laced with shame lost their charge, I realized how it held me back with people and with groups—how a hidden part of me was on guard to be rejected, to be shamed for who I am and how I unconsciously maintained a certain kind of distance so that I could withstand the coming pain. I have awareness of how my hidden shame kept me apart from myself and from others. And I wonder what other shame is hidden in me, and in others and how it shapes how we move through life, a secret poison.

I wish we could all let it go in one big sigh.

I grieve at what I have lost, what others have lost. And I am grateful for the shame coming into the light, for being exposed, and for the love and support of my brothers that helped me to release the pain and the shame in a glow of healing connection.