Samantha has one too many drinks the night before and ends up sleeping in and ends up being late for an important meeting. When she realizes her face gets hot and her breath gets shallow. “Shit!” she thinks, “How could I have been so stupid? What have I done??”
This is shame, according to Brene Brown, research professor and public speaker on the topic.
Delicious lentil soup brought over by a friend.
I am in bed again. For the sixth day… Although I haven’t stayed in bed as diligently this time. I get up, I go to work for half a day, I become exhausted, I go back home, back to bed.
The moments when I am able to relax into the sickness and simply rest are beautiful, restful. But there are lots of moments that are not…
is equivalent
with beauty
are my breasts beautiful?
i want to be held
i don’t want to be fucked
what is my worth?
I wake up tired
heavy
closed
tight
I don’t wanna get up
I don’t wanna leave my bed
I don’t wanna leave my house
and you
can’t
make
me.
tired
heavy
foggy
I want to wake up.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
I tell my sister that she should tell her story, write it out and then post it on her Facebook wall and yet I’m terrified to tell mine.
I don’t want to tell anyone. I want to keep it quiet, close to my heart. I want to pretend that I don’t make mistakes, that I always acknowledge my privilege, that I’m perfect. I want silence.
I ran a workshop for a group of LGBTQ newcomers a couple of weeks ago on criminal law. I was the organizer, the facilitator and the panel moderator. I recruited the volunteers, set the agenda, chose the scenarios we would use.
And then after the workshop I got some feedback that one of my volunteers felt oppressed, that I didn’t do my job as the panel moderator in balancing which voices were heard and that several components of the workshop were disempowering for participants instead of being empowering.
And I said I was fine after I read it but part of me went into a spiral. I can’t do my job, I’m not good at my job, I’m actually just perpetuating the cycles of oppression that I thought I was trying to stop, I’m a bad person, I don’t deserve the good that I have in my life. And these voices felt like they were strangling me.
black. sticky. strangling.
But I told myself I was fine and that I didn’t need to tell anyone, that I had come so far that I was beyond needing to tell others, or that they wouldn’t understand anyways. Any and every story to convince me to keep silent.
But I’m not above shame. And just because I lived at an ashram for two years doesn’t mean that now I’ve worked everything out and that I can fight all my battles on my own. I still need help, I still need people to listen to my story, I still need empathy.
I am not invincible and I’m far from perfect. I am trying so hard to create experiences that are empowering for participants and sometimes I fail. This time – I made multiple mistakes. But that doesn’t mean that I give up and stop trying at all.
And so I am scared that I will fail again, but I am trying to learn from my mistakes and create something better. I am trying to be brave and not listen to these voices that tell me to crawl into a hole and never to come out again. And I am trying to move out of silence and through the shame.
the talking stick
is passed
and as it draws closer
my palms sweat
my chest squeezes
shut
3 people before
I stop listening completely
composing a monologue
obscuring the truth
just enough
what if they find out?
what if he finds out?
will everything crumble?
obscure
truth.
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.
I’m not quite sure where it starts. But at some point I realize there’s a voice that’s questioning every decision that I make. “Is that really a good idea?” “Do you really need that?” And the hidden message is really – do you really deserve that? Are you really worthy?
And right now is one of the moments. As I sit in my bed typing I have this sinking feeling in my chest. I want to sleep. I don’t want to be seen. I want it to go away. This voice tells me to hide and keep all of my actions secret so others won’t discover “what a horrible person I truly am”.
And when it gets to this stage it affects all my choices – from what to have for dinner to whether or not to buy a Macbook Air.
And I’m amazing at coping. It’s happened before and I know how to ride it out – putting off making important decisions or getting a level headed friend to help. Pretending I’m totally fine and thinking that other’s don’t notice my edginess. Smiling. Getting the work done.
But I want to do more than cope. I want to get to the roots and pull them out. I want to find out where this shame is coming from. And I want to be free.
This time it started with a busy day where people were sick and didn’t let the office know. I was coordinating the work schedule so spent a lot of time trying to figure out where people were and to find coverage for them. And then I called a community meeting to explain the importance of communicating if you can’t come to work. I also had a disagreement with a co-worker. And then talked again later to resolve the issue.
I was mad and I was tired and I was stressed. And then it was like this anger came up and then at some point was turned on myself.
The voice emerged – “Does everyone dislike me now that I called them out?” “Did I really need to say anything?” “Was the disagreement my fault?” “Am I good person at all?”
So I’m practicing believing I have worth even when it’s at its loudest. Trying to take baby steps towards shameless living. Buying the computer even though the voice thinks I’m not worth it. And using the car to transport boxes of magazines even when the voice says:
“You should walk.
Do you really want to pollute the environment with that gasoline?
Are you just being lazy?
And what if someone else needs to use the car?
Someone doing something more important.
Someone more important.”
And I think its working even though it’s far from perfect…
Step by step.
Inch by inch.
I am stumbling towards freedom.
