The Shame Storm
When I look back on the period of my drug addiction, it seems like it lasted a lifetime. It’s less than 5% of my life, yet it holds so much control over me. Like I’ve mentioned, part of me desperately wants to disassociate with it. In a recent conversation (with my mom) about my last post, she shared a few details that occurred after the bridge. Those details I didn’t recall, but one in particular hurt in my gut. The next morning, I was expected to report back to the outpatient rehab I was in. I told her that I was wearing my white cotton underwear, as I suspected I would be going to jail. That little detail about the underwear showcases exactly where I was at that point in my life. Rock bottom, for sure, but also preparing for a scenario that most people never prepare for. It’s embarrassing, but mostly I feel sad for that Emily, for all she was trying to navigate and the love she desperately needed.
What I would love to do, and have done for decades, is package this time period up and never open it again. However, it’s time for a different approach. Disassociating with this time of my life goes against my core belief of sharing our stories. I love hearing and seeing people share their stories. They’re brave and bold and beautiful. For years, I’ve been envious of them and their ability to do so. Now that I’m doing it, I’m finding it hard to unload years of feelings, emotions and beliefs, in addition to knocking down the extremely high walls I’ve put up to hide away parts of my life and myself. Not to mention the risk to friendships, professional relationships and the vulnerability in opening up to everyone. Strangers can weigh in, and anyone can be unkind. While I'm stripping my armor, I’m wide open for anyone to take aim and hurt me. How do I do both? So far, the results have been overwhelmingly positive. So many people from my present and past have reached out. While I was scared I would feel shunned, in reality, and for the core purpose of my writing, so many people can relate in some way. Or they just appreciate the honesty and they want to thank me for sharing and peeling back those layers of the onion that can burn so badly.
A major hurdle of mine is shame. I think shame is like food poisoning for the soul. We all have shit, and that shit wants to stain our entire being and life. My mind can easily convince me that those actions of mine, when I was addicted to heroin, should infect the rest of my life. I don’t deserve to have the life I have today. I still have nightmares about different situations I was in. Almost being shot while buying drugs, trying to get the money to buy it, sleeping on the streets, trying to dodge people from finding me, waking up from overdosing, and the night I almost committed suicide. It’s all so scary to me and carries the weight of shame.
Brené Brown’s research explains shame as “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love, belonging, and connection.” Does this resonate with anyone else? Surely those examples I just gave categorize me as unworthy of anything. At least that is how I’ve felt for far too long.
I can remember when I met my husband, and I was telling my family and friends that he was so kind. Way too nice for me! I was convinced he would figure out that I was flawed and unworthy of love. I remember telling him rather quickly as things progressed something like “Well, just so you know, I’ve been in recovery for an eating disorder and a heroin addiction.” He didn’t even flinch. He just said something like “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, and I like you for who you are today.” What the hell was wrong with this guy? Either run or help me continue to ruin my life! He did neither, and he’s been an unwavering root in the foundation we’ve made together ever since that day.
Shame is a deep, deep feeling that is so uncomfortable that it’s easier to shove back down and throw away the key. The challenge is that if you lock it away and pretend it doesn't exist, it typically oozes out and continues to control you. That doesn't mean we all have to wear a flag with our shit flying for everyone to see. But when we lock out parts of ourselves, we also lock out the ability to fully support others because we’re hiding ourselves, we’re envious of others, or we’re simply not open to trying to understand one another.
And, this brings me right back to empathy. Having empathy and compassion creates connection. Connection fuels humanity. When we let shame rule our lives and fear it, we’re not able to build true connections. These superficial connections and conversations with others feels like a waste of our precious lifetime. This might sound drastic, but think about how many of those conversations you’ve had. Can you even remember them? I want true connections that make me think and act differently, and with compassion.
This isn’t something I can practice in every moment of my life. I’m human, and that’s OK. It’s OK to be a work in progress.
Sources: Brown, Brené. Atlas of the Heart. Random House, 2021.