Overcoming my Shame

Last week I wrote about what I perceived as being at the root of my shame.   Namely,  that I was often not treated as if I mattered during formative periods of my life.   

Now that I am an adult,   I can see into the lives of the people who made these deep impressions on me and realize that it was not personal.   They were not trying to screw me up and scar me.   They had their own issues and I can try to have compassion for them.   Nevertheless,  a child takes in the messages from those around him,   and he uses those messages to understand his place in the world.    

Here is how I received some of the messages I've been talking about,  and how they relate to my shame.

1)  When I was six,  my dad left my life.   Message from him to me:   "You don't matter to me.   You are not important enough to me to stick around."

2)  During much of my childhood,  my mom was a workaholic,  gone most of the time and stressed out and exhausted when she was with me.    Message from her to me:   "You're not worth spending time with.   I could spend more time with you and care for you but I've got better things to do."

3)  When I was six, my babysitter molested me after school frequently over the course of several months.  Her message to me:   "My sexual urges are far more important than your basic sense of safety and well-being. You're about as valuable as a dildo."

As a child,  I tried to take in these messages and still function in my world.   What made it all the more challenging was that no one was all that aware of my deep suffering.    My mom took me to a psychologist for a few months after my dad left,   so she had some sense of the pain I might be in.   But she was completely oblivious to numbers two and three listed above.   She was oblivious to number three because she simply did not know the abuse had happened.   She was oblivious to number two because she was invested in not learning anything about that one.

So,  I had to deal with all three traumas largely on my own.   What I integrated from these messages built up my shameful self,  my sense of not being good,  or good enough.   Of being less-than.   I integrated into my self-image an underlying sense that I was unworthy and unlovable.   These aspects of my self-image went under the surface while what I projected on the outside was relatively steady and cautiously friendly.   

Over time,  other parts of my life went well enough and I started to receive messages from others that "maybe I was a good person,  maybe I was a worthy person."      I started having friends and developing relationships.   I got into sports.   I did well enough in school.   

The chronic issues were there:    One was that dad lived out of state and rarely communicated with me.   The other was that  mom worked all the time,  had very little time for me,  and did not communicate to me that she was interested in my feelings.

But the traumatic parts of life subsided.   Everyone moves on and development continues.     My shame was a part of me now.   Its key parts were abandonment,  neglect,  and sexual assault.   

When I came into middle school I caught pneumonia and lost twenty-five pounds.   All of a sudden girls started to notice me and I became sexually attractive.    My shame took this up and translated it back to me as:   "Your worth is based on your being sexually desirable to others.  No one would want to be with you for any reason other than to have sex with you."   

By the time I was seventeen I was at the end of my rope.   Life seemed like a confusing,  jumbled and dangerous thing to do.   

Since then,   I have led a path of trying to make healthy choices to the best of my ability.   I have tried to find a way out of my shame.     And I have been very lucky.

Each year I have tried to do good and to become a better person than I was the year before.  And,  since today my life is pretty stable and wonderful in many ways,  I think I have done well.

I have,   thanks to my own efforts and the care and love of my wife and others,  created a space for myself from where I can look at my shame from an objective point of view.   I can try to look at the scope of my shame,   its depth,  its regular influence over my thoughts.   And,  I know that my shame is not me.   I did not do anything to deserve my shame.   I was a kid.   The real me is a beautiful child of God,  just like everyone is.

I see you,  shame,   and I've got your number!

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly,  Ben