7 Tips to Dial Down Shame

When I was six or seven, I remember playing shuffleboard on a sunny Southern California day with my grandfather, surrounded by the smells of oranges from his orchard and the pool all us cousins couldn't get enough of.

But those aren't the reasons I remember that day. It's etched into my memory because at one point I cleared the pucks off the board, apparently before my grandpa had time to take his final shot and count the points.

I remember him yelling, "What are you doing??!!"

Now, my grandfather was kind as could be and the best grandfather a little girl could ask for. He would never have intentionally tried to hurt my feelings — which is why he must have been horrified when I broke into tears.

I recognize that moment now (especially after reading Brené Brown's book I Thought It Was Just Me) as one of my first conscious experiences of shame.

Decades later I still have a visceral sense of how horrible that moment on the shuffleboard court felt.

I froze. It felt like I'd been exposed. Like I was standing there naked with the whole world laughing at me and like I would give anything to go invisible.

Like not only I'd done something bad, but that somehow I was bad.

I don't remember what happened after the tears, but that memory is still, on some level, remembered by my cells.

This is how shame works.

Brown defines shame as "the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing we are flawed and therefore unworthy of acceptance and belonging."

So when we believe some part of us is fundamentally flawed, little moments that could simply be embarrassing ("Shoot, that was silly") blow up into a paralyzing feeling that there's something wrong with us and that that means we'll never be loved or accepted.

And the more we replay those "little" incidents in our minds, the more true they feel as evidence of our unworthiness.

And the more true our unworthiness feels, the more personal the "shameful" incidents feel.

And the more personal those shame-tinged moments feel, the more alone we feel.

And the more alone we feel, the less likely we are to reach out to connect with others about what's going on.

We stay quiet because we fear if we put words to the things we fear most about ourselves, it will confirm that they're true.

So we suffer silently, thinking we're the only irreparably messed up weirdo out there, hoping that if we keep our shameful feelings to ourselves they'll go away.

Of course, they don't.

Paradoxically, the reality is the moment we share our secret shame - our monster in the closet - someone else inevitably chimes in with "Oh my God, you too? I thought it was just me!!"

Knowing that someone else struggles in the same way you do is such a huge relief, isn't it? That's because, as Brown puts it, "Shame works only if we think we're alone in it."

And human connection is the antidote to shame.

This compilation of tweets of people's most awkward moments recently made me laugh 'til I cried, but also really struck a tender chord. That simple but profound reminder that "Oh yah, we're all human."

We do weird and awkward things sometimes. We get embarrassed sometimes. And we feel ashamed sometimes.

All of us.

The more we try to pretend that's not true, the worse – more alone, more defective, less connected – we feel.

The truth is, it's not just you. Ever.

Whatever you're worried you're the only human being on the planet to ever experience, you can bet money you're not.

Seriously, with 7+ billion people on the planet, there's always someone who's going through the same kind of thing as you. Chances are, most people are currently going through some version of it, in fact.

So if you want to soften the impacts of the shame cycle and start to free up the energy that's been frozen in it, here are a few tips to help.

1. Get familiar with how shame shows up for you.

Shame can be a tough emotion to acknowledge and name within ourselves because it’s all about secrecy and trying to stay hidden. So shame often manifests externally as anger, blame, criticism, or defensiveness toward other people — all unconscious attempts by our system to keep ourselves safe by keeping others at a safe distance away from us.

Beneath the surface level external manifestations of shame, at the core, shame has a “play dead” quality to it. It makes us feel so exposed and vulnerable and bad that we literally fear we might die if anyone sees the “real us”. So we might clam up, withdraw, or want to stay in bed all day.

Start to get curious about how shame shows up for you:

• How and where does shame show up in your body?

• What types of situations trigger shame for you?

• How do you tend to behave when you feel ashamed?

Naming an emotion already starts to dissipate its intensity and impact. So as you become more familiar with how shame shows up for you, get in the practice of noting and naming it: “Ah, shame is here right now.”

2. Share the shame.

Shame tries to convince us that we’re so fundamentally bad that no one could ever accept the shameful parts of us. So, paradoxically, the way to shift shame is to do the opposite of what it tells us to do (hide) and air it out.

Tell someone you trust the thing you've been terrified to share out loud. (*The "you trust" part is super important with this tenderest fear of yours. Trust your intuitive sense of who will be a great nonjudgmental receiver.)

Preface your sharing by letting the person know this is something personal and vulnerable that you're sharing for the first time. Let them know you’d love for them to just listen to what you’re sharing, that you’re not looking for advice or “fixing”.

3. Be gentle with yourself.

Shame tells you you're bad, wrong, broken, and alone. Self-compassion is an antidote to those feelings.

You've likely been practicing beating yourself up for ages about this perceived defect. So don't expect the habit to cease overnight, but intend to speak and act more kindly to yourself every day. Take baby steps of self-friendliness until they grow into adult-sized strides.

4. Notice the shameful feelings without getting all wrapped up in them.

In other words, practice shame mindfulness. Notice what shame feels like in your body — that wave of heat over your face, the frozen shoulders, the contracted breath in your chest or belly — without making those sensations mean something about you.

The feelings aren't personal. They're just energy moving, and information to help clear, heal, and integrate whatever needs to be cleared, healed, or integrated for you to move more freely forward in your life.

Notice the shame feelings and allow them space to express, move, and shift in whatever ways they need.

5. Connect with your body.

Walk, roll out your yoga mat, dance, hike – do whatever feels sweet to you, but do something to move your body regularly. The more you connect with your body, the more you connect with your intuition and your trust in yourself.

And intuition and self-trust are shame buffers.

6. Remind yourself that you're human.

There's nothing wrong with you. (Seriously!) You're a perfectly normal human being experiencing perfectly normal human emotions.

7. When you notice shame, celebrate that you see it clearly now.

Change can't happen without awareness. Congratulate yourself on the first - and most important - step to shame-shifting: Honestly owning that the shameful feelings are there.

The more you acknowledge and speak your shame, the less heavy and more normalized it becomes.

That monster in the closet suddenly reveals itself for what it always was: A dust bunny.

And as you free up the vital energy that's been locked in your shame dungeon for all these years, you'll likely unlock a whole new level of vitality, authenticity, and flow in your life.

The thing you've most feared, resisted, or rejected about yourself is the very thing that can set you free.

The darkness of shame can't survive under the light of compassionate awareness. Start small with naming and sharing your shame in reasonably safe-feeling ways and build your confidence toward the bigger shares.

Your shame is a normal part of the human experience. And you are normal — and perfectly lovable and acceptable, shame and all.

Lots of Love,  

Melissa

PS - If you enjoyed this post, thank you for passing it along to someone who might get a boost from it.