Shame. Embarrassment. Brené Brown.

‘Shame thrives on secrecy, silence, and judgement.’

Last week, I was sharing dinner at a beautiful restaurant along the Sausalito Coast with friends. We were talking about our childhoods. What they were like. Our parents. The things that shaped us. I listened to their stories, learning things about them that I didn’t currently know. High school sororities. Summer camps. Pool parties. Favorite meals. Challenges with their siblings. Which parent was more engaged.

As they turned to me and asked me to share, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to tell my ‘real story.’

Only one of the four knew the most about my history and encouraged me to share some of it. I’ve been reluctant to talk about my story for most of my life. Not just the heavy or tragic intersections but a strong undercurrent that would swell in my system pressing the button ‘never share what’s really happening.’ Especially the story I am currently writing. I’ve also not shared it with a man present. I’ve only shared with women in my writing group and a few close friends. And only select chapters at this point. Sharing it with Jake added an extra layer. He is a kind and compassionate Water type so I knew empathy would be present.

But I was encouraged and so I pulled a few items out and started sharing. They listened. Asked questions and held the space with tenderness and compassion. I felt heard. What I was surprised by was Jake’s response when I had finished sharing. He took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, placed both hands on the top of his head and exhaled his deep inhale with the words, “that is intense.“

I asked him what he was feeling and he said, “I’ve known you for twenty years and this is the first time I’m hearing this part of your story. I need a minute.”

We continued to share with each other and held the space for all that had been placed on the table. We celebrated the day, the meal, and this time of connection. As we made our way back to our hotels, I felt Jake’s energy rising in me.

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A few hours later, I began to feel what felt like shame. I went to bed thinking of shame. I woke up thinking about shame.

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I cannot remember the last time I felt shame in this sort of way. As I sat with this feeling and emotion, I tied it directly to the conversation at dinner. Specifically my story.

I have been writing my memoir for nearly 18 months already with 34 chapters deep. Shame has not raised its head in the writing of this memior at this point. This captured my attention. It was a new emotion. I wanted to understand it.

I shared with a friend as I was driving and making my way back to San Diego about the feelings that arrived after the dinner conversation. She offered to read several definitions and traits for several emotions that I had just shared with her. As I listened to the differences between each emotion I wondered if I was feeling embarrassment more than shame.

Here’s some of the feelings that surfaced with embarrassment…

I was feeling embarrassed about sharing these vulnerable decades of my life.

Pouring words, thoughts and memories onto pages.

Inviting others to listen to them.

To listen to the challenges I had been asked to live with.

The decisions I had made.

The ache and the pain of loss.

The grief of giving up and losing whole sections of my life that I would not be able to recover.

I was embarrassed that I didn’t have a better story to tell.

That I didn’t have a more loving story.

A story where I knew I was loved, seen, and known.

I was embarrassed as I paused to think about what others might think if they heard the entire story or read it in a book.

What would they believe about me.

Could I have done more at nineteen years old to stop my mom from leaving?

Should I have ignored the DNA results?

Had I spent the past three decades wishing this part of my story wasn’t my story…

When I arrived home from my trip I was feeling stretched by my thoughts and emotions. The feelings swirled.

I decided to get very still with myself.

To look inward.

To ask.

To seek.

To listen.

After four days of this inward posture, I had a deep sense that these feelings and emotions of the heart were present to remind me that ‘secrecy, silence and judgment leads to shame.’¹

For four decades, I moved through life in secrecy, silence and judgment about my story, not telling or sharing the real story. Most would not have believed my story even if I had tried to share it. At times I didn’t want to believe it either.

I went to the bookshelf and pulled Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown from the shelf and opened it to chapter 8 - Shame.

As I re-read the words of Brené Brown, I could feel a shift inside of me take place. I knew she had handled all the surveys. Read the responses. Processed the data. Had her own holy moments as she placed these words on the page that would become a manuscript. One that she would then publish inside the covers of the book I was holding in my hands.

I knew she understood. Not because she was the author but because she had pushed shame down the road more than once.

It was a holy moment with her words, the book in my hands, sitting in the leather chair in my office…

“When we fall short, we go to these places: Shame, guilt, humiliation, or embarrassment. When there is a lack of empathy, these feelings spread. Shame thrives on secrecy, silence, and judgment.”

What I heard in Brené’s words was this…

Unless I can find a way to express, write or share this story, the trail of shame will continue to spread. Multiply. Thrive.

My mom knows that I’m writing this story that is primarily about a decision she made when I was nineteen. She listens to me read some of the chapters to her when we are together. She holds a lifetime of shame and guilt all her own. It is my hope that as she listens to my words that she can release some of her own shame. Not mine to do for her but I knew that I could not write this memoir in isolation, secrecy or silence. I gave her Brené’s book a few years ago too. I notice that it moves from place to place in her home. Perhaps she is finding healing too.

I had read the entire book several years back. Also shared this book at Table Conversations over many weeks as we gleaned from Brené’s knowledge, research and insights. We poured our own stories out with each other at Table and realized that we can heal. We can be compassionate witnesses for ourselves. We can begin to tell, write, and share things in our past that have blocked our sense of true self. Especially when we have safe places to do so. This is another reason why Table Conversations on Wednesdays is a priority for me.

There’s much to experience in this book if you have not read it. It’s a resource worth every cent. I gave several copies for Christmas gifts a few years ago.

But let me capture this list found in chapter 8. It summarizes what some of the research participants had to say about shame…

• Shame is hiding the fact that I’m in recovery.

• Shame is raging at my kids.

• Shame is bankruptcy.

• Shame is getting laid off and having to tell my pregnant wife.

• Shame is my boss calling me an idiot in front of the client.

• Shame is not making partner.

• Shame is my husband leaving me for my next-door neighbor.

• Shame is my partner, asking me for a divorce and telling me that she wants children, but not with me.

• Shame is my DUI.

• Shame is infertility.

• Shame is telling my fiancé that my dad lives in France when in fact he’s in prison.

• Shame is internet porn.

• Shame is flunking out of school. Twice.

• Shame is hearing my parents fight through the walls and wondering if I’m the only one who feels this afraid.

I finished reading chapter 8 of Atlas of the Heart and felt like I had been in the presence of Brené Brown. Perhaps the Feminine Spirit of Wisdom led me here at the end of my trip to remind me…

That we all have a story.

That perfectionism is an illusion.

‘That if we reach out and share our shame experience with someone who responds with empathy, shame dissipates.’²

That my story, your story, Brenè’s story, are words on the page that someone will hold in their hands and realize they are known, seen, and understood.

And perhaps, as they cradle your words in their hands, they too will feel your presence in the room.

Love Expands the Table ~ Shelly

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Join Table Conversations each Wednesday as we embrace more love while offering a safe place to release our stories… releasing silence, secrecy, and judgment. Share and invite.

Unsplash Photo Credit Mulyadi

1. Atlas of the Heart Brené Brown.

2. Atlas of the Heart Brené Brown.