dispatch from collapse: antidote to shame
so much of my overly public admission that i needed to take time off work was about combatting the power of the shame that was swirling in me. i was (and maybe still am) deeply ashamed of the fact that i could no longer do the things i have built most of my identity around. i was “underperforming” at work, i wasn’t in the street the way i wanted to be, and i wasn’t able to put care into my relationships the way i always hope to. the thing actually happening to me was that my body was crumbling under the weight of uncompleted stress cycles, physical illness, and trauma. but the thing i kept telling myself was happening is that i was becoming lazier, less competent, less capable, less radical. because shame is a voracious beast. it cannot be sated. no amount of “we’re living in a fucking pandemic” or “society is collapsing” or “the planet is in crisis” or any other rational truth about how hard the world we live in is for all of us will turn shame on its heels. shame does not grant permission or offer grace. shame does not care about any of it.
instead, shame compartmentalizes you. it breaks you into pieces that seem impossible to put back together. shame warps your mirrors and changes your face and unravels your clothes and siphons off your spirit. it fractures you. and, for me, it’s been doing that for decades such that i no longer have an integrated sense of self. i have no idea what i look like, what i sound like, what my body can do, or what my heart can offer the world.
shame is one of my oldest acquaintances. perhaps not a welcome friend but certainly a familiar who skulks around the edges of my life. and, for how long i’ve known shame, it’s taken me decades to learn how to combat it and reduce it’s power over me. there’s more to say about where the shame comes from and the way i’ve drowned in it in the past but currently i am interested in what drives out shame.
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the primary way i have found to deal with shame in my personal life is to talk about it publicly. tell everyone you can bear to tell about the shame. maybe even tell some people you can’t bear to tell. shame thrives on secrecy and avoidance and hiding but shame will dissipate when you pour light on whatever it is you’re ashamed of.
from a stream-of-consciousness note in my phone i wrote a couple days ago: “i honestly think, (or at least feel strongly in this moment) the only way for me to integrate myself and create a self-conception based in reality and not in fear is to write- publicly- about my process of doing this work for myself. like i have to decimate shame like chasing shadows out of corners with your flashlight. i can only stand in my truth if i intentionally make it public? this is how i’m feeling right now.”
from a text i sent some old friends last week: “my current goal in life is to combat shame through oversharing and transparency.”
from a tweet i fired off last night: “oversharing in an empowered way as the antidote to shame is really my February mood. Maybe my 2021 mood.”
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so here i am: oversharing with agency. choosing reclamation of the all the things shame has stolen from me. choosing public story telling about my most core insecurities no matter how unrefined or incomplete the stories are. putting snippets of thoughts and ideas together when i find myself feeling bad. hoping that if i put all the snippets and pieces and threads of my life out in the light, for anyone to read, i might be able to create a whole picture. //
i can be found ranting on Twitter @colocha_rachel. You can see my dogs and my houseplants on Instagram @colocha_rachel.
