shame
my body had tucked away shame like soiled underwear buried in public restroom trash
Shame wants me in the shadows. I want to be out. I am grateful for the parts of me that are already out (of the closet). Being a lesbian, openly, gives my heart the strength and bravery and emotional safety that I need to release shame.
SUMMARY: Shame. It’s still shame even when I call it regret.
BACKGROUND: In September, thanks to Copperhead’s helpful guidance, my new moon intention was simple and succinct: release shame. I said the words and really worked on releasing. I felt so good, I boldly released fear and silence and secrets the very next week.
REALITY: My body had tucked away shame like soiled underwear buried in public restroom trash. Wrapped up. Double bagged. Hidden.
Releasing shame using words was a really good start. Naming the intention set everything in motion. Followed by weeks and weeks of cleansing shame-disguised-as-regrets from my system.
Growing up, shame was learned from both parents; their instruction was undeniably overt and meant to maintain control, and I wonder sometimes if they had any idea the scope of the resulting damage. After some serious blunders, I went from talking nonstop about everything to fearing that I would expose a secret at school that was big enough to have teachers show up (again) unannounced at our home.
BACK TO THE NEW MOON in SEPTEMBER: Without delay, the intention to release this complicated emotion emboldened my dreams and opened up my body and mind to facing underlying contributors.
THE DREAM: I’m in a public place pulling a garland of skimpy underwear from an open seam in my shoe. Lingerie — bras, panties, tiny bitty unmentionables — revealed as I stretched my arm like a magician pulling connected scarves from a hat.
Panic: are they dirty?
Shame: the pieces are so tiny, drawing attention to all of my body parts that are overweight, unattractive.
SECRETS: I met up with my Dream Circle group and shared the dream’s highlights, framing the story with humor and flourishing gestures and using laughter to disguise vulnerability, confident that I could be truthful and STILL be mindful of keeping secrets that felt close to the surface. A Dream Circle member asked me to describe my sister, the youngest in the family who had entered the dream near the end while I was carrying the trash bag of shoe lingerie to the dumpster. Huge tears unexpectedly brimmed my eyes.
REGRETS: “My sister is the person I should be,” I said, tears splattering my cheeks and shirt. Silence. Fat, floppy tear drops and silence. “Where did these come from?” I asked the room with a struggling smile, wiping up with my sleeve and accepting the tissue offered to me.
“Your sister had you to guide her … she had you.”
The facilitator asked if I could say more and I heard myself respond that my sister is smart and versatile and we all look up to her.
The same characteristics describe me, someone kindly offered. I nodded, accepting. Knowing. Yet feeling only panic and regret. I should have done more to protect my sister. I never should have left her alone at home with my parents when I went away to college.
My heart felt heavy. I should have done more, been more. In my shoes, my sister would have known what to do.
I wonder if I had said that out loud, because it would explain the statement from the woman down the table from me: “Your sister had you to guide her. She is the person she is, in part, because she had you.”
In that moment, ALL of the related emotions and fears and shame stopped in their tracks. And just as quickly, self-forgiveness stepped into their place. Like a balm. Like a freaking forgiveness balm. I closed my eyelids, took a cleansing breath, and saw my sister’s now-you’re-catching-on smile in my mind’s eye.
Releasing shame requires self-forgiveness. Makes sense now that I’m writing it. At the time it was completely unexpected. Forgiving self is good. Lighter and clearer kind of good. Now I have this healthy-pathway-in-my-muscle-memory kind of hopeful and good.
Coming out of shame is a process. More bits of regret will show up as I’m ready to feel and release and allow. I’ll remember to breathe and be kind to myself along the way.
I’ll also call my sister. We have a lot to unpack together. Together, I know we can. For her, I am always and eternally grateful.
The art piece startled me because it is so bright and colorful. Then I noticed the duller colors on the perimeter and twisting cords. And the center starts forming an infinity loop with more pure primary color. Thank you for writing about shame. I feel like I have to carry a flashlight and shine it on shame to take away its power. Otherwise it seems to lurk and menace and suck and pull from the shadows. Even saying the word shame out loud is challenging to me, trips me up, my tongue ties. Maybe that's the tangled lines you drew. Bless you.
This touches me in a place that is very raw and desperate. A place that festers an unhealthy infection color of greenish brown. The core is shame- fear and regret. I SEE YOU LORI! Your courage, your bravery and honestly has come to me (so powerfully written) at a time that I can hear it. Really hear it. Thank you soul sister! You are guiding light in my life! I AM GRATEFUL!!