Hello, dear reader. I’ve been thinking a lot about shame lately, as it seems to be nearly ubiquitous for those of us that struggle with substance use.
Shame was a common visitor for most of my life, beginning during childhood. As a queer and autistic child, I experienced profound social rejection and I let the view of other kids become my view of myself. It’s hard not to.
I learned to experience acceptance or rejection from others as a litmus test of my own self-worth. As I sunk deeper and deeper into addiction, my self-image was darkened by a combination of societal and interpersonal disapproval. If I couldn’t “drink responsibly” and if I continued to relapse… that meant I was broken. I was bad. I was unworthy of community, healing, and love.
And when we grow up and then spend adulthood fawning for approval, we naturally enmesh our view of ourselves with how others see us. When we come to the conclusion that we are broken, too far gone, fundamentally flawed — it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. Yet there’s always some part of us, deep down, that’s fighting for us. It’s been crammed into a box, disregarded, but it’s never given up. When we can learn to listen to this quiet voice, and simultaneously un-blend from the booming echoes of shame, we give ourselves a chance to heal.
A person who believes they don’t deserve healing won’t seek it. As we begin to detach from our internalized shame — which was born from interpersonal and societal conditioning — we can grab the hand of that small child inside of us. We can say, “I’m sorry I pushed you away. Let’s make a practice of remembering our joy. Let’s make a practice of discovering and nourishing all the things we love about ourselves.”
Our shame never belonged to us. It came from others, and when we release it, we can truly be free.
May you be happy and free, dear reader.
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