(originally published in Rebelle Society 11/2013)
Shame isn’t something you just pick up. It is beaten into you - verbally, emotionally, energetically, by family, culture & media. Your first innocent expressions being shut down, whether it is in your home or in the schoolyard, about body, personality or social status - we are quick learners and this shapes our future responses. Curbs our freedom to express.
Now this wicked henchman, this built-in saboteur, limiting us in our desires, restricting our freedom to act and express safely, has an important job: to keep you safe. Yes, he cares deeply for our well-being, wants to make sure we don’t embarrass ourselves, a ridicule preventer designed to protect us. Yet, as a result, we get paralyzed with fear, experience performance anxiety and have basic deep feeling that we simply are not good enough.
I hate that critic, who makes my life miserable! He has sabotaged so much of my potential happiness, making me feel guilty and ashamed of all of my shortcomings again and again!
My family did illegal things! I was a late bloomer! I was the foreigner! I had to ask someone to the prom! I never went to college! I have debt! The list of reasons to be truly ashamed of myself are endless. I have all the evidence that it might be true. But if its true, do I really need a henchman to remind me every step of the way what a failure I am?
I have done so much therapy and healing work on the first six years of my life. That reportedly shapes our little beliefs about ourselves. So much empathy and compassion for that inner child. And that inner judge remains firmly in place: “you are not good enough to charge more”, “you are not petit enough” , “you spoke out of line” , “you should not have posted that”.....and on and on. We are so comfortable and familiar with him. When we are in our power, we can laugh at that voice, but when he returns it seriously feels like the henchman. Part of us wants to annihilate him! But what about compassion for the baddie?
What if we could rehabilitate him? Do we want the death penalty for every one in jail, or is there a place for redemption in some way? Can there be a second chance?
With all the therapy and psychological know-how I have under my belt, how can I still suffer so deeply from extreme shame sometimes? Feeling so abandoned and rejected, it must be me. Then I remember: I am exactly where I need to be - all these little parts of me are still mending. Truly owning: I am my healing heart. I need me to be more understanding and supportive. Right here, right now, pain and all. This old pattern of shame - who does this belong to? There is no more room in my heart for you!
So, what about an inner revolution, do not BAN the henchman, but have a compassionate sit-down and have a conversation, a surprising shame exorcism, something like this:
“Dear henchman (or insert applicable title),
you have done an AMAZING job keeping me in check with all your merciless criticism. You are excellent. But that position is no longer available. I am so sorry I have needed you for this long. Please forgive me for not knowing any better. Instead, I am giving you a promotion. I decided you are so committed, I want to employ you as my wellness-manager! You have shown such dedication, I am certain you have the potential to accomplish great things in supporting me with reminding me of what I need and knowing what is good for me. Welcome on board!”
Decide on more specifics of your well-being manager’s duties. For instance, my manager knows to implement signs in nature in the form of heart shaped items. Or rainbows when I arrive. Or hawks flying over head. Also, my manager has become extremely proficient in asking me what I want and not giving me “should do’s”. I have been delighting in this experiment of promotions in my inner arena.
Shouldn’t we give violators of sorts a chance for redemption - a sort of ultimate forgiveness of they simply did not know any better, redirection?
When echos of the former henchman ring through, just breathe and send the wellness-manager a sticky note: “I am my healing heart”.
love,
Veruschka
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