Category: Engine of Shame

A two-part essay on shame:    Part 1 In my previous essay on guilt and shame, I discussed their nature and differences, their impact on personal and social life, and their instrumentality in much of our individual unhappiness and communal dysfunction. If indeed shame is the common thread of the human condition — fraught as it is with pain, suffering, and evil — it must be mastered and overcome if we are to bring a measure of joy to life and peace to our spirits and our social interactions. Shame is the most private of personal emotions, thriving in the dark, secluded lairs of our souls. It is the secret never told, the fears never revealed, the dread of exposure and abandonment, our harshest judge and most merciless prosecutor. Yet like the Wizard of Oz, the man behind the curtain is far less intimidating than his booming voice in our subconscious mind. The power of shame is the secret; its antidotes, transparency and grace. Shame thrives in the dark recesses of the mind, where its accusations are amplified by repetition without external reference. Shame becomes self-verifying, as each new negative thought or emotion reinforces the theme that we are rejected and without worth. It is only by allowing the light of openness, trust, and honesty that this vicious cycle may be broken. The barriers to this liberating openness are fear and mistrust: fear that revelation of our darkest selves will lead to rejection, pain and humiliation; and lack of trust that the sharing of such darkness will be used against us to our detriment. This fear and mistrust lock us into a self-imposed prison from which there is seemingly no escape. Our only recourse becomes the adaptive but destructive defenses of withdrawal, self-attack, avoidance, or aggression. The most dangerous type of infections in medicine are those occurring in a closed space. As the bacteria grow, they generate increasing pressure which drive deadly toxins into the bloodstream. Only by uncovering and draining the abscess can the infection be treated and health restored. And so it is with shame: we must take that which is most painful, most toxic, and release it, lest we become even more emotionally and spiritually sick. So just how do we go about such a process? It is not something to be done lightly, as the world remains a dangerous place, and there are many who cannot bear such disclosure — and who may indeed use it against us. It is for this reason — this reasonable fear (amplified many times over in the echoes of our inner chambers of shame) — that many will not take this step until life circumstances become so difficult or painful that they have no other choice. Hence you will find this process first in the alcoholic at his bottom, at the therapist for intractable depression, at the counselor after divorce, in the prodigal son re-seeking fellowship in a grace-based church or small group. But we need not wait for such disasters before beginning the process of addressing shame. There are a number of principles to begin the journey from shame to sanity and peace. Here are a few which come to mind: Sharing of shortcomings with trusted friends: First and foremost, we must be willing to open the door, to begin sharing something of our inner selves with others. This involves finding someone trusted, someone who is a good listener and not quick to judgment. It means taking some risks, as many people may be unwilling — or unable — to be safe harbors for our vulnerabilities, failures, and shortcomings. Test the waters by sharing some small issues with others who seem trustworthy — or perhaps even better, by being open to others who may be willing to share their pain in some small way with you. Nothing builds the trust of others quite like your own vulnerability: it signals a willingness to establish a relationship based on true intimacy. We all put our best foot forward, expending great energy at maintaining our masks. But at the same time, we all hunger for the intimacy of being truly open with another. Learn to listen: Our isolation begins to lessen when we hear our story repeated by others. As we begin to hear the bits and pieces of our own experiences, failures, and struggles in the lives of others, the uniqueness — and the shame — of our own experiences begins to lessen. We develop compassion for the struggles of others — and thereby become willing to accept our own shortcomings. Becoming mutually vulnerable is the essence of true, intimate relationships — and to achieve this we must be willing both to share our own weaknesses and to accept those of others. Honesty: Deceit and shame go hand-in-hand — dishonesty with self and others is a requisite for the maintenance of the autocracy of shame. Dishonesty becomes habitual, making life far more complicated and difficult than one based on openness and truth. The main driving force for deceit is fear: fear of discovery, of condemnation, of judgment, of rejection. In reality, the consequences of honesty about our failures and shortcomings — particularly with those we trust and with whom we reciprocate acceptance — is far less onerous that of sustaining the fragile edifice of a life of lies. The importance of forgiveness: When you begin to make yourself open to others, trusting them, you will sooner or later get hurt — perhaps intentionally, more likely inadvertently. Count on it, it’s a sure bet. Once it happens, you then have some choices: you can withdraw, no longer exposing yourself to the pain, or strike back, or carry a resentment. These approaches are proven shame-builders: they do little or nothing to visit revenge on our offenders, but rather replay the injury over and over (re-SENT-ment: to experience — to feel — again), reinforcing our loneliness and worthlessness. Forgiveness allows you to move on. It may mean taking the risk of confronting the one…

A wise friend — a man who helped me emerge from a period of considerable difficulty in my life — once taught me a simple lesson. In less than a minute, he handed me a gift which I have spent years only beginning to understand, integrating it into my life with agonizing slowness. It is a lesson which intellect cannot grasp or resolve, which faith only begins to illuminate — a simple principle which I believe lies close to the root of the human condition. My friend taught me a simple distinction: the difference between guilt and shame. While you no doubt think I am devolving into the linguistic morass of terminal psychobabble, I ask you to stick with me for a few moments. What you may discover is a key to understanding religion, terrorism, social ills such as crime and violence — and why the jerk in the next cubicle pushes your buttons so often. On the other hand, if you’re among those who believe guilt and shame are simply the tools of religion and society to restrict your freedom — that as a perfectly liberated postmodern person you are beyond all that — well, you are probably wasting your time reading this. But most of us recognize the influence of guilt and shame in our lives — even while trying not to focus on them, as they are uncomfortable emotional topics, best avoided if possible. There is a tendency to conflate guilt and shame, merging them into a single human response to bad behavior or personal shortcomings. Yet they are quite different. Guilt is about behavior, shame about being. Allow me to expand on this a bit. Guilt is an emotional — or some would say spiritual — human response to behavior or actions which violate a respected set of rules. The rules violated may be internal or external, and may be based either in reality and truth or distortion and error. The rules which may engender guilt must be respected: that is, they must originate from a valid source of authority — parents, elders, religion, law — or have been internalized into one’s personal mores or conscience from one or more such sources. Rules which are not respected pose no difficulty: I feel no guilt at not becoming a suicidal martyr for Allah, since I do not respect (i.e. recognize as valid) the rules which promote such behavior. The response to violating respected rules is at its heart based on fear: fear of punishment by God or man, fear of rejection, or fear of ostracization from friends, family, or society. Since guilt is an uncomfortable emotional state, we generally make efforts to avoid or mitigate it if possible. There are a number of means by which this can be accomplished, with greater or lesser efficacy. We may of course, practice avoidance of the behavior which induces the guilt. If the rules are legitimate and based on worthwhile principles, this is obviously a beneficial approach: if you don’t steal things, you won’t go to jail for burglary. But avoidance may prove destructive if the rules are based on error. For example, if your parents or religion have taught you that all sexual activity is wrong or evil, this can prove a huge impediment to physical intimacy and relationships in marriage. Guilt may also be mitigated — especially when it is chronic and recurring — by changing the rules. You may leave a religion which is highly legalistic for another less so — or for none at all; you may change your situation or environment to one where the rules can be ignored and not enforced; you may seek counseling to correct perceptions about sexuality or other destructive interpersonal biases or beliefs. Or you may simple practice denial — justifying your behavior through the creation of new internal or social rules, while avoiding or rationalizing the inevitable consequences of your still-errant behavior. So guilt may be addressed by modifying behavior or changing belief systems, through choice or denial. What then about shame? Shame — the very word makes us uneasy, striking deeply into the core of our being. For shame is not about what we do, but about who we are. It speaks to a deep sense of unworthiness, rejection, inadequacy, and isolation. It says we are not OK, that what we truly are must be hidden. And this we do with all the energy at our disposal, throwing up an impenetrable wall to keep others out at all costs. For the essence of shame is relational — it says that if you really knew what I was like, you would be repulsed and reject me. The resulting isolation — real or perceived — is a devastating threat, engendering a pain so profound it approaches unbearable. The origins of shame are varied, and not fully understood. We seem to be programmed to interpret certain words and behavior by others — especially parents and siblings in childhood — as not simply critical of our behavior, but a statement of our worth. This is an especially powerful force coming from parents, under whose authority and supervision we are molded into social beings. While this may be especially pronounced in dysfunctional or abusive homes — alcoholism, sexual abuse, and mental illness come to mind — it occurs even in well-functioning family units, and with speech and actions which are not intended as critical or demeaning, but which are interpreted as such. The soil of the soul seems fertile ground to bring forth a tainted crop of shame, even from the seemingly benign bruises of normal human interactions and relationships. From the Judeo-Christian perspective, this propensity toward shame is understood as rooted in the spiritually-inherited rupture of our relationship with God, manifesting itself in an extreme self-centeredness and self-focus, which acts as a toxic filter letting in the destructive while keeping out the good. Having been born into a state of remoteness from God — perceived at a spiritual level as rejection…