CAROLINE WATKINS: Shame, Shame, Shame . . .

Caroline Watkins
Caroline Watkins

 . . . Shame of fools.

This is my “spin” on Aretha Franklin’s chorus in Chain of Fools after notions of writing about the patriarchy or aging were somehow supplanted by a topic no one wants to talk about: Shame.

When I told my youngest child (15) what I would be writing about this week, she responded, and I paraphrase: “Ewwww . . . Why would you want to write about THAT?” Bingo.

I asked her to define what it means to her. She said shame makes you feel bad, and you can’t do anything to make it better. She seemed to already understand shame’s pervasive nature that so often leads to despair.

Yup. And then some. I continued by letting her know how shame researcher, Brene Brown, distinguishes shame from guilt. Guilt is “I did something bad.” Shame is “I am bad.” Guilt is “I made a mistake.” Shame is “I am a mistake.”

“Ewwww” is right. My daughter seemed to “get it” and when prompted, revealed that she has never told anyone about her worst mistake – other than her parents – because she didn’t want anyone to think she was a bad person. Bingo again.

Brown says that shame survives in “secrecy, silence and judgment,” and its antidote is empathy. Although my daughter named it “compassion,” she did, for all intents and purposes, identify the one thing that would be a requirement for telling her worst mistake to another person. Compassion and empathy really are kindred spirits. The former being something like, “Me with you,” and the latter, “Me too.”

Here’s what I think: Vulnerability is the true antidote to shame because without it, you can’t receive empathy!

One of my nieces wrote me a letter I will treasure forever in which she describes beautifully what she finds beautiful: “…the unique ability to react to things in such a way that demonstrates both vulnerability and strength, simultaneously. Not strength in a ‘nothing-can-break-me’ kind of way but more in a ‘I-allow-myself-to-be-broken-but-my-spirit-perseveres’ kind of way. The kind of strength that often goes unnoticed by the person herself because it is misinterpreted (I repeat, misinterpreted) as weakness.”

Brene Brown would just LOVE my niece! Not more than I do, of course, but Brown also insists the greatest myth is that vulnerability is weakness. On the contrary, she argues, it’s “pure courage.” But we don’t like vulnerability because it’s uncomfortable so we bury it, numb it or try to “please, perform and perfect.”

Interestingly, another child recently asked how she should answer the following question on a job application: What do I need to work on?

It took me a few moments, but I carefully replied, “Your perfectionism.” She seemed baffled that wanting to do well at everything would be something she needed to “work on.” But I see the flip side of the coin because my little apple hasn’t fallen too far from the tree. It was her mother after all who, at the tender age of 4, took an excruciatingly long time to walk down the aisle as a flower girl in her uncle’s wedding. (Instead of scattering the petals from a basket as instructed, I painstakingly placed each and every one…to perfection.)

There are other stories often recounted by my sisters, but I’ll spare you. Nevertheless, one of my favorite things I’ve read about perfectionism is what Brown writes about it, “When perfectionism is driving, shame is always riding shotgun.”  She defines shame as “the gremlin who says…you’re not good enough” and perfectionism as the tape that plays, “If I look perfect, live perfect, work perfect, I can avoid or minimize criticism, blame and ridicule.”

But here’s the deal. When we try to avoid these things and protect ourselves from being hurt, we lose our ability to deeply connect with each other. We don’t allow ourselves to be truly seen. People may fall in love with the idea they have of us but not who we really are. We end up living a lie, which at best, is no fun and at worst, it makes us sick.

Shame often becomes a vicious cycle. We feel bad so we spend too much, eat too much, over medicate in a variety of ways and become addicted to a variety of things. Or maybe we “just” chronically put down others, including the ones we say we love the most. And then, we feel even more shame – which supports Brown’s assertion that shame is “epidemic in our culture.”

Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber calls it the “great deceiver” who lies about “our value and our beauty and our worthiness to be loved.” Call shame what you will, but it’s not from God and none of us are totally immune in our fallen world.

So what do we do? Brene Brown and Glennon Doyle Melton would encourage us to “tell our story” to someone safe. I would add that “someone safe” might be a person we’ve never met or even, a blank piece of paper.

Both Frederick Buechner and Anne Lamott would urge us to simply try out this word for size: “Help.”

These “practices” take real courage and will help usher us out of our hiding places, allowing others to do the same. And in this process, my friends, I believe we will find our way to each other’s hearts, and ultimately to the holy, hidden heart of God Himself.

And there’s nothing more beautiful – and life-giving – than that.

Caroline Watkins

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