I have no feelings of shame. I was brought up with shame, shame that was focused on me as a person. Not on anything specific about me, but on me as a whole person. ‘Shame on you. I’m ashamed of you. You should be ashamed of yourself’. It was never specified for what or why. The message was always ‘You should be ashamed of yourself because that’s what you are’.
I still can’t make it stick, literally. If the imposed shame has no concrete target, it holds no power. Not over me it seems anyway. It won’t stick.
It’s just a theory, but I find it plausible that if you raise a child with a projected shame on the whole person, it won’t take hold. Shame is always about ‘something’ that should be hidden from the outside world. ‘Something’ can not be everything, ‘something’ is just a part of something.
I’ve always taken myself very seriously when it comes to who I am, what I want, what’s for me, what’s not for me. At least that’s what I’ve tried. I’ve never taken life in general very serious, though. You are born, you die. In between, you do the best you can. We all fuck up. I fucked up a lot. In the past, now it is not too bad.
I don’t remember ever feeling deeply ashamed of anything. What I mean by that is an internal pitch black nothingness filled up with so much shame that I’d rather die than enter. People end their lives driven by shame. Just saying. Shame can be a deadly weapon.
There was a period when I had a distorted body image and there was some shame related to my body; my breasts were too small. I was ashamed of that, I tried to hide that (something I would NEVER have admitted back then). My stomach was too fat, I tried to hide that too. Or just a big pimple on my face. Anything I felt like hiding, things I’d rather not have other people see, there was shame involved in that I guess. I’ve had that.
That only stopped when I started to consistently remind myself that I am not my body. I HAVE a body. It is my home, it transports me, It’s where live. It gives me the opportunity to, while lying in bed, to speak my mind into this voicerecorder. I am not my body, I have a body.
When I could let that truth in, I could also let go of all that so-called shame around my body. I am not my short legs, this body has short legs.
And extra skin, I can fold it into a little face. I carried two children to term so I no longer have a tight stomach. In spite of my marvelous six-pack my stomach looks a bit messy. Damage from usage. Added functionality. However you wish to look at it.
In terms of shame, the world has never really gotten a hold of me.
But… Yes, there is always a but…
I have PTSD. It no longer controls my life but it’s there. I can feel it waiting. I’m used to it.
I have been ashamed of that. The funny thing is that I never realized it was shame. I just never talked about it, it was not a topic of conversation. I avoided it ever being a topic. That says it all, I guess.
I realized, in hindsight, to me it was personal failure, weakness. It was proof of my destructibility, my vulnerability, maybe even proof of my mortality.
I got into a situation where I was painfully confronted with myself on this and I decided to dissect it.
Statement: My damage is proof of my failure
If I regard failure as loss, my downfall, or ultimately; my death, then the whole statement is nonsense. If I have proof of my death, I have already died and the damage proves it. But: I didn’t die, I am very much alive. That makes my damage proof of that fact, that’s the only logical conclusion. My damage is proof that I am alive. Survived. Not just that, I won. Because: I am alive. Otherwise I would be dead. Simple.
There have been multiple moments in my life where I made the choice to keep on living. Live, not die. If I had failed, I would not have been here and the damage would not have been there. In any case, it wouldn’t be part of the equation.
The damage is proof that I have fought wars. Sitting here is proof that I won those wars. My damage, my scars are my medals. It’s the stripes I’ve earned. I had to fight hard for that, I earned it.
I carry battle scars from wars I’ve fought and won. I’m not just a survivor, I’m not just a warrior. I’m a fucking general.