I used to think shame didn't have a purpose, that we just harboured it as a result of our trauma. That is until I learned an interesting psychological theory - that narcissism is born when a person is shamed too little or too much during development. This was a lightbulb moment for me as I realised two things: 1) that narcissists must detach from themselves to avoid ever experiencing their own shame, but more importantly, 2) that shame has a very important function in our internal environment. Shame exists to keep us aligned with our values, and the values of the society we're in. Sometimes, shame can be a wonderful tool for growth and understanding (I'm talking dialogue, not cancel culture here. Hopefully we're all past that). But what happens when it becomes unregulated as a result of previous relationships or unhelpful societal shame?
I appreciate the concern most people in my life have given me about me moving back to my hometown temporarily. "Don't feel ashamed, we all need a rest sometimes. There's nothing wrong with going back to your hometown." Thanks, but I know. I didn't leave my hometown because I don't enjoy the people or the sites, it was purely because I think I'm a more chaotic personality that thrives in a faster-paced lifestyle. If I'm being honest, the friends I had here are the only friends I would consider to be accepting of me bar three or four in other cities. I know that seems like a harsh judgement but I just think it's a compatibiilty thing paired with the fact that the smaller the town the smaller the constant survival mode in my opinion. No, I don't feel shame because I am living with my mum - the shame has solely come from my interactions surrounding this experience.
I originally had planned to live with my mum for a month then use the money I had saved to travel overseas. I was eager and ready to do all the admin I had to - new birth certificate, Maltese passport, pain management from the doctor: And that's where it ended. I was expecting to be given medication for my symptoms, something that I was never open to but thought was maybe a sign of self respect. Much to my dismay, a specialist has told me pain medication isn't appropriate treatment and I need to get genetic testing for a other conditions and potentially heavy treatments. I knew when I was told this I was going to need to be open about my symptoms and my capacity to do things. I also knew this would most likely make me feel ashamed and like I am socially domineering. And that's exactly what's happening. No one has done anything to make me feel this way. All they've done is express their love for me and how eager they are to see me. I then start spiralling into guilt that I know I can't socialise in the way that they're envisioning. I try to compensate by immediately making plans with them, even if I know deep down my body won't allow me to do it. I just feel that if I put myself first that's being a bad friend and showing that I don't care about others. I logically know this to be false, because I do have so much love for my friends, but I can never seem to shake the feeling.
Another unexpected point of shame that surrounds my friendships is the shame about how I communicate - I generally feel like I'm too emotional or too cold. I can tell this is an ongoing internal pattern for me and I am pretty good at reasoning with it. I know it's irrational. But when I actively tried to foster my relationships by telling my close friends I was moving instead of posting it online, and a handful of friends I had told said that I didn't tell them and expresses being upset, it got me in my head again a out how I exist in my friendships. Am I not intimate enough? Is everyone but me experiencing true intimacy? Should I have prioritised this person more? Should I be presenting myself in a different way? Then the dreaded question enters my mind: "Am I a bad person?" By now I know that no, that has nothing to do with me. I said what I said, and I know I said it. It's just human nature to take perceptions of us very personally.
Perhaps my biggest point of shame apart from my social limitations has been my pain management. I’m regularly triggered into back, arm and chest pain from lots of stimuli - tired, hungry, anxious, thirsty, sitting too long, walking too long, standing too long… the list goes on. My preference for pain management is weed. It doesn’t disrupt digestive issues, it’s perfectly legal with my medicinal prescription, and I don’t feel affected by it the next day. But despite even doctors legally prescribing it and the shifting culture around marijuana use, every tiny comment gets to me. I’ve had men snicker and imply that I’m using pain as an excuse (let’s not even start on how women live with much more pain than men statistically), the silent treatment at times, and constant questioning of my ability to make my own health choices since moving back. I know it’s helpful for me, doctors know it’s helpful, and scientists and even our government do too. Knowing all this is helping me move through the shame I have about using a once illegal substance for my physical health, but I think I’m only at the start of this journey. And yes, I do like smoking a bit too much than recommended and getting high. But again, I can accept this because I don’t often drink and rarely party in general. It’s been really interesting to go through the journey of removing stigma around weed use as its accessibility grows in Australia.
One final point of shame I’ve experienced during this move has been ongoing for my entire adult life. I long so badly to be productive and to be making money, even though last time I worked full time my body suffered the worst that it ever has. I get hormonal acne, severe pains, and horrific PMDD. So why do I feel so full of shame every day that I don’t make income? Why do I feel so much pressure to have an answer to “What’s are you going to do when you’re better”? Because it was so ingrained in me as a child that my best attribute was my intelligence and what I could do with it. It feels to me like I’m failing at life because I don’t have autonomy over my income. However, on the flip side, the opportunity to work through that pain is helping me to develop what I think is a really healthy and self-loving perspective of work and money. I’m learning what my baseline is for being financially content - learning what would make my life easier if I could afford it, what I can live without, and noticing how there are so many less costs when I work for myself.
As much as the location and day to day activities of my life online look shiny and sunny, doing a move like this during such a self-aware time has been a catalyst for a lot of introspection. While I wouldn’t say I’m “enjoying” being withdrawn from my normal life, I’m embracing it and trying to remember that I’m always where I’m meant to be. I have no doubt that once I’ve waded through the waist-deep pool of shame and frustration over lack of control of my circumstances, I’ll come out the other end with a better idea of who I am than ever before.