thoughts on shame

Invariably, when I put something up like this, I have someone say "I read your blog, are you okay?" This is not one of the times you need to worry. Having said that, this is about to get real, son. These are thoughts I think I deal with on a daily basis and I feel a strong need to get them out. I'm not sure why it is that I have this crazy push to be so open and honest about how I feel when I feel it, but this drive is powerful for me. I think it's because I told myself when I was a little kid that I was different. I think that these explosions of honesty are my way of saying "I hope I'm not the only one". I guess another way of putting it is "I hope you're know you're not the only one".

Today in class, my professor ended with a really quick blurb on what shame is. According to him, shame is the knowledge that you are irreparably broken. This is contrasted with guilt, which is remorse over an action, whether that action was done or left undone. He spoke passionately on what shame does to people and how we need to counteract it with its polar opposite, namely through affirmation. Affirmation is the acknowledgement of acceptance and imperfection. When he defined shame, it hit me like a shotgun, and as I lay on the floor of my mind, thoughts started to ooze out of the pellet wounds. When you're lying on the proverbial ground, covered in the blood of perceived failures past, you aren't thinking clearly, and it was in this state that faces started to cloud my vision. With those faces came situations.

I saw face 1 and felt shame that it had fallen apart. We were so in love with each other and were completely dedicated to each other, and then one day it was completely gone. There is a shame that comes from knowing that you have someone who loves you completely and then suddenly they don't love you anymore. The only possible explanation is that I am broken and that is what she saw, so she left.

I saw face 2 and felt shame that it had fallen apart. There was a point when she was completely committed to us and I completely rejected it. There was a point when I was completely committed and she completely rejected it. There was a period of about one and a half weeks when we were both completely committed and it was completely amazing. There comes a point though, when you realize that you can't keep staring at each other from across the street and you walk away. Walking away doesn't mean you don't love that person, and it doesn't mean it's your first choice, but it does mean that you can't force closeness when there's obviously so much concrete between you two. I feel guilt over that. I think we both could have done more but chose not to. The shame came when I saw how quickly I was completely replaced. To go from wishing we could just meet halfway to left in the dust is a hard pill to swallow. The only possible reason I could hold onto with any certainty is that I am broken and she finally saw it.

I saw face 3 and a conversation that we had two weeks ago. I told her that I feel like I'm easily replaceable, a feeling I've had for some time, and that it's hard to want to believe differently but see proof that I am, in fact, easy to replace. She got mad at me and walked away. While the irony of that moment wasn't lost on me, it did affect me pretty strongly. Without intending to, she landed a well placed elbow on a very tender part of me, and it hurt. My immediate reaction was and is to close off. I don't want to give anyone else any more reason to walk away from me, so if I can control when I walk away, I can at least say it was my choice when it's gone. I hate to admit it, but I get attached easily. I don't show it well and I don't express it well, but it's true. I'm getting better at staying and experiencing everything in all of my relationships, but it's tough for me to admit that I care for people and give them that power over me. The shame for that one comes because I really decided I needed to open up part of myself to someone, and when I did it caused anger and frustration, punctuated by being left on my own on a stairwell.

I saw face 4 and a whole life spent trying to prove worth. I recognized it as my own. I saw myself as a kid when I would try and be a jerk because at least it gave me control. I saw myself selfishly abusing friendships and people I really cared about just because it meant that they didn't have control over me. These days I don't abuse friendships, but I'm still falling short in my friending and helping-people-know-I-care abilities. I feel shame because I am very obviously and very irreparably flawed and I don't know how to fix it. In the meantime, with such obvious flaws, why would anyone want to stick around?

All of this happened in the space of maybe 5 seconds in that classroom. The shotgun blast just grazed me, but somehow it grazed all the right places, dagnabit. My drive home was done in silence, which anyone who has driven with me knows is strange. I always have to have some music going. I started wondering where the blame was to be placed in each of these situations, and in all of them I can't help but think the blame falls on me. I know the other faces I saw weren't perfect, but they were good enough for me and I loved their imperfections because it made them unique. The hope is to someday find someone who has imperfections that I love and who loves my imperfections. It seems to me to be an impossibly tall order.

The thoughts in my head started shifting from why do I feel shame to what do I do about it? Here comes the affirmation.

I am so flawed that I can hardly believe it. I wouldn't be able to live with me if I didn't have to. I'm good at being friends, but anything beyond "friend" in any way and I suck at it. I worry that I complain too much (hello, blog), that I'm not attractive enough, that I'm too selfish, and that I am the combined total of what imperfection can become if you let it. However, I also know that, when push comes to shove, I am a good man. I am very lucky to be able to love other people so easily. My life is enriched because of the cast of other imperfect people in my story and I am grateful for everyone of them (though I do wish sometimes that some of them would be a little more aware of how much what they do can hurt me sometimes). I really am trying the best that I can to make something worthwhile out of the pile of whatever it is that constitutes my being. I can be pretty pessimistic, but underneath whatever negative emotions exist I have a little voice that is screaming as loud as it can that there is hope, there is always hope. That voice has carried me through some very dark times and I know it will continue to do so.

I am Taylor. I can really suck sometimes, but I'm still trying my best. There's nothing there to be ashamed of.