I don’t know what you need right now. I’m not there. I don’t know you.
I can tell you what you don’t need, though. You don’t need shame.
I understand: shame is a popular, easily accessible experience. Our culture LOVES shame.
Shame is the go-to experience when we want to differentiate ourselves from something or someone we despise: we immediately associate them with shame.
We tell ourselves it would be absolutely shameful to be anything like them.
We love media reports about people we hate, because we can feel good about NOT being them.
Many people actively work to shame anyone and everyone who subscribes to a different worldview them them— and make no mistake, this absolutely happens on every end of the political spectrum.
Shame has become an incredibly normal, incredibly frequent, incredibly socially sanctioned way to relate to at least a certain segment of the world.
Don’t get me wrong, I am certainly not above it. When I see a media segment about a person I despise? You bet I impulsively, instinctively channel shame toward them to, right through the computer or TV screen. I reflexively turn on the shame firehose.
But what’s the problem? Isn’t it fine to throw shame at people we hate? What do we care, we hate them, right?
The problem is that trauma survivors often get shame thrown at us— for the specific reason that we ARE trauma survivors.
People may not SAY exactly that while shaming us, of course.
They’ll use words like “weak.”
They’ll use words like “entitled.”
They’ll use words like “immature.”
They’ll use words like “dramatic.”
What are people really doing when they throw these words at trauma survivors? Because I can tell you, with certainty, they’re not describing anything real.
They’re just turning on their own shame firehose at us, for the same reason we unleash the shame firehose on others: they hate us and we scare them.
They may not hate us, specifically, as individuals.
But they certainly hate what we trauma survivors represent.
We represent the fact that nobody is truly safe from trauma.
That “normal,” “strong,” intelligent, attractive people can ABSOLUTELY break under pressure.
We represent the fact that there is nothing that can “guarantee” someone will not develop CPTSD or even DID if exposed to the right pressure points.
They HATE that.
They have this fantasy that they are most certainly immune to post traumatic injuries, due to their “strength,” or their intelligence, or their background, or, or, or.
They HATE our existence, our pain, and our visible recovery efforts f*cking up that fantasy for them.
So they throw shame at us.
That’s their damage. Their darkness. Their BS (Belief Systems— also the other kind of “BS”).
It’s our job, in trauma recovery, to not let their BS seep into our recovery protocols.
I used to feel angry about people who try to hose us down with shame for things we didn’t choose— but now, honestly, I feel pity for them.
They’re so scared.
And, because they misunderstand and reject trauma recovery, they have very few tools to actually manage their fear.
Hence their projection and aggression.
It’s pathetic.
And, it’s not our circus, not our monkeys.
You don’t need shame— either the shame others direct at you, or that Trauma Brain tries to inflict upon you from the inside.
Guilt can be a useful recovery and life tool. Shame is not.
When that trigger gets tripped, use the tool of self-talk to remind yourself what’s really going on: someone is trying to soothe their own fear by making you feel like garbage.
Leave them to that stupid game.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, as the expression goes.
Breathe. Blink. Focus.
