Crossing the Shame Swamp
A few years ago, I got my first bike as an adult. It had been so long since I’d ridden one that a part of me wondered if I would even remember how to do it! Not surprisingly of course, the muscle memory came right back. But weeks after getting my bike, I still found myself hesitant to go anywhere with it alone. What was the problem?
As it turns out, the problem was my bike lock. That’s because “using a lock” belongs to the collection of basic, everyday tasks that I’ve always seemed to have more trouble with than the average person. Also in this collection? Tying knots, reading maps, and a host of other things that fall within the category of spatial awareness or hand-eye coordination.
It may sound silly or trivial, but for me, the situation was triggering deep shame. The thought of arriving at the grocery store, for example, and struggling to lock my bike—all the while surrounded by people who might take notice of my sad, awkward plight—was enough to deter me from using my bike at all.
Throughout my life, situations like these have accumulated into a story that I have a cognitive “deficit.” And the thought of being exposed in this deficit has been particularly scary and shameful. Yet at the same time, my shame has been exacerbated by noticing how I avoid certain situations as a result.
This is what a shame spiral looks like!
Are you familiar with this cycle?
Something triggers our initial feeling that we are in some way “wrong.” We feel small and exposed, and we turn our focus inward. This only magnifies our shame, and the more it grows, the more it overwhelms us. What was once a single event becomes a laundry list of our shortcomings—and eventually, perhaps, a story about who we are as a person.
But what makes these stories truly toxic is when we keep them to ourselves. Indeed, as shame researcher Brené Brown reminds us, “Shame derives its power from being unspeakable.” Our secrecy and silence are like fertilizer for “shame weeds”—which, if we’re not careful, can take over everything and leave us stuck in a full-on swamp of shame.
Hiding our shame is natural; it is our self-protective impulse. But when we can go against these instincts and find the courage to share our stories, we often find that the shame within them can’t survive. In other words, Brené continues, “Catastrophizing about what could happen if we talked honestly about our fears is actually more painful than grabbing the hand of a trusted companion and crossing the swamp.”
As for me? Well, my bike is still in my shed. That’s one swamp I haven’t yet crossed. But as I’ve learned to share these stories, I’ve cut off the source of their power: The shame I feel around them is much less overwhelming (and much less likely to become a self-perpetuating loop). In fact, I’ve started to almost enjoy talking about them, and watching those shame weeds get smaller and smaller in response.
And what about you? Is there a shame swamp in your life that you need help to cross? We’d love to hear about it (message us, or leave it in the comments!).
-Text by Shaina List