Why Are We All So Ashamed?
Do you like to look in the mirror? When you do, what do you see? Is it a friend or someone you don’t like very much, maybe even someone you are ashamed of? If your answer was self-critical, ask yourself why? What is it that dissatisfies you?
We are embarrassed about ourselves, our relatives, our incomes, our accents, the shade of our skin, our tribe of origin, our education…you finish your list. Have you considered the effects of these self-judgments? Have you really sat with them and let yourself feel their impact on your heart and mind?
I have. There have been many points in my life that insecurity has dominated my self-view. In my teenage years I disliked my “big” body. I felt fat, uncomfortable in my own skin. I was consumed with how to change my body so that I could feel better about myself.
When I attended Princeton, I carried my dislike of my figure with me. I couldn’t see myself as a tall, strong athlete. Instead, I interpreted myself as heavy and clumsy. At Princeton my self-criticism increased. I felt less than many of my peers—they were rich, from elite families and I was from a single-parent home where we had to trust each month that we would meet the bills. They were all so intellectual and I wondered if I had the academic prowess to fit in. My insecurities caused me to hide – to stay away from certain gatherings and if I went, to be quiet, unsure of how to present myself. I couldn’t fully see my successes on the basketball court or in the classroom because my vision was clouded with fear of not being good enough.
These shameful feelings are the source of deep, personal pain that we try to ignore and hide. We don’t want anyone else to know who we really are. Shame colors all of our relationships. Somehow we have concluded that we are flawed while others are “normal”.
So, we create a mask that hides everything that is real about us. We build up an identity to support our chosen image. As others accept it, we become more and more invested in maintaining that false image. We have worked hard to give people certain impressions. Everyone else appears to be doing just fine. We fear that if they “really knew us” they might laugh, disapprove or even worse, reject us. We become proud of this artificial view of ourselves.
So, we keep up the pretense. We are experts at putting on smiles, even when we’re crying inside. We feel terrified that if the “truth” about our life is uncovered then our lives will be shattered. The irony is that we are already shattered inside. We feel helpless, unsure of how to put ourselves back together.
Silent suffering is a worldwide epidemic.
What we think of as our own private and unique suffering is actually very common. It’s ironic we feel so alone when the heartaches of the human experience visit us all. Because we reject ourselves we continually feel unacceptable to others. Many of us know the despair of having conclusively judged ourselves as just not good enough. The result? We become lost in addictions. Our anger festers. Physical, emotional, sexual and mental abuse from family, friends or strangers remains secret and unhealed. We ache inside, wanting agonizing memories and feelings to fade. Ironically, the more we push them away, the more power we give them.
Once we give voice to our story we realize we are not the only ones suffering! I’ve had encounters recently with people who were trapped by shame and pain of the past. One person in particular was unusually embarrassed by his family background and level of education. He was a warm, friendly articulate person but that wasn’t his view. He believed he didn’t know how to talk to people. Those who knew him were baffled and frustrated. They couldn’t understand why he felt this way. What did it matter that his family was poor and promiscuous?
For years he had kept a painful secret: he had been sexually abused as a child. He hadn’t told anyone because he assumed that it was his fault that it happened when he was just a child, barely 11. He had suffered intensely for over 10 years, feeling completely alone. He couldn’t sleep. This shame poisoned every aspect of his life. Finally, after years of silence, he confided in someone he trusted and the door opened for healing to begin.
I have found that most people relate to stories of people who honestly admit the pain of abandonment, disappointment, and other kinds of brokenness. If our experience as humans is so similar, why do all of us think our stories are unique and fear embarrassment if someone would ever discover the details? As William Blake once said, “Shame is pride’s cloak.” What we feel shame about and are most afraid to tell others is not what makes us different, it is what binds us together. How it does is our choice. It is either in mute discomfort or in compassionate connection if we are willing to take the risk to speak it aloud.
I’m not suggesting that you should blurt out your deepest secrets. What I am saying is that in private moments with yourself that you take off your mask. Begin to look differently in the mirror. Instead of looking with judgmental programming, look with the compassion of your Source. See your fears and insecurities, your wounds and secrets. Lovingly acknowledge them to yourself and the Divine. It might seem like a tiny step but it is a profoundly powerful move towards personal transformation.
As I sat in a coffee shop finishing this blog, a man walked through the door. I was astonished at the message on his t-shirt, “Take your mask off.” It reminded me of how much the Universe loves each of us. What we need always appears in the moment. Start where you are. Imagine this week how different you would feel if you took off your mask, looked in the mirror and opened to the possibility of absolutely loving yourself?
I will leave you with a beautiful poem to bring all this contemplation deeper....
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That is how the light gets in.
(By Leonard Cohen, lyrics from his album The Future)
With Love,
Patricia Omoqui, The Thought Dr.
www.patriciaomoqui.com
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