✨ Healing thru the waves of Shame

The Shame Was Never Mine, But I Carried It Anyway

How I learned to confront the voices of my past, take responsibility for my healing, and find compassion for the person I had become.

"What Are You Feeling?"

Such a simple question.

And yet, for so long, it was one I couldn't bring myself to answer.

With nowhere left to run, I found myself forced to sit with the one thing I had spent so much of my life desperately trying to escape.

My own emotions.

The pain. The guilt. The humiliation. The shame.

God, the shame.

It was unbearable.

I didn't just want to run away from my problems. I wanted to run away from myself. From my thoughts. From the memories. From the overwhelming weight of everything I had experienced and everything I had come to believe about myself.

And sometimes, I literally ran.

There were times I found myself running through the streets, manic and hysterical, barely aware of the danger around me.

Running into roads, almost begging the cars to hit me.

Desperately seeking train tracks or the lake. Anywhere that could end the suffering.

Anything to escape the pain.

Anything to avoid sitting still long enough to actually feel it.

And when I finally did stop running, when there was nowhere else to go and nothing left to distract me, I was forced to confront the feelings I had been avoiding.

I was embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Humiliated.

And perhaps one of the most painful feelings of all?

I felt betrayed by myself.

Because when I finally stopped running, I had to face something I had spent years trying to avoid.

The shame of the decisions I had made.

Decisions that shaped my life. Decisions I regretted. Decisions I couldn't take back.

And the anger.

Ooof, the anger.

Anger toward the people whose voices, expectations, judgments, and control had influenced so many of those decisions.

But also anger toward myself.

Because even though I knew how much others had influenced my life, I was still the one left living with the consequences.

And that was a painful reality to sit with.

I couldn't change what had happened. I couldn't go back and make different choices. And I couldn't simply separate the decisions I had made from the circumstances that had influenced them.

I was left trying to understand how much of my life had been shaped by what other people wanted, what other people believed, and what other people had convinced me to believe about myself.

And somewhere in all that anger and shame, I had lost compassion for the person who had been trying to survive it all.

I had spent so much of my life fighting against the voices of others that I hadn't realized those same voices had become my own.

And now, I had to figure out how to live with myself without continuing to punish myself for the past.

And I didn't even realize it.

Your Feelings Are Valid. But What About Your Reactions?

I used to repeat one phrase to myself constantly:

"Your feelings are valid."

It was a small act of compassion in a world where I had spent so much of my life questioning myself.

But I eventually learned to follow it with something equally important:

"Your reactions to your feelings are your responsibility."

That second sentence wasn't easy to accept.

Especially when I was already drowning in guilt and shame.

But I wasn't saying it to punish myself.

I wasn't trying to invalidate my pain or pretend that what happened to me didn't matter.

I was trying to remind myself that, despite everything I had experienced, I still had some power over what happened next.

I couldn't change the past.

I couldn't undo the abuse, take back the words that had been spoken, or erase the decisions I had made while desperately trying to survive.

But I could begin examining how I responded to the pain I carried.

And that mattered.

Because there were times I felt like I was standing on the edge of everything.

Between giving up and trying again.

Between running away and facing myself.

Between believing I was a failure and wondering whether, just maybe, I deserved another chance.

I had spent so long fighting to survive that I hadn't learned how to sit with the emotions survival had left behind.

And the one emotion that seemed to follow me everywhere was shame.

Shame Is Heavy. And Sometimes, It Was Never Yours to Carry.

Shame is often described as a painful feeling of humiliation or distress connected to something we believe is wrong with us or something we've done.

But that definition doesn't begin to capture what shame can feel like when you're drowning in it.

Shame is suffocating.

It's debilitating.

It's the feeling in your chest when you remember something you wish you could forget.

The knot in your stomach when you think about the person you used to be.

The voice in your head that keeps reminding you of every mistake, every failure, every humiliating moment.

For me, shame wasn't just an emotion.

It became the way I saw myself.

Some days, I didn't want to show my face.

Other days, I wanted to disappear entirely.

I was ashamed of things I had done, decisions I had made, and the person I believed I had become.

But what took me so long to recognize was that not all of that shame belonged to me.

Some of it had been handed to me by people who hurt me.

People whose words I had carried for years.

And somewhere along the way, I stopped recognizing those words as theirs.

They had become my own.

The Pixar Movie Soul Showed Me Something I Couldn't Explain

There's a scene toward the end of Pixar's Soul that has stayed with me.

The character 22 becomes what the movie calls a lost soul.

Consumed by self-doubt, fear, and the painful messages she's absorbed from others, she becomes trapped in a dark world of her own thoughts.

Joe Gardner tries to reach her.

But surrounding her are the shadows of people whose words have contributed to her belief that she isn't good enough.

And among those shadows is Joe's.

Someone who had been trying to help her had also contributed to the pain she carried.

That scene broke something open inside me.

Because I knew exactly what it felt like to live surrounded by those shadows.

To hear the voices of people who had hurt me long after they were no longer standing in front of me.

To carry their judgments around like they were undeniable truths.

I had been told I would never be anything.

That I would never make it.

That I was a failure.

A burden.

A mistake.

A soon-to-be "deadbeat."

That I would end up dead or living under a bridge.

And for years, I fought those words.

I wanted to prove everyone wrong.

I wanted to become someone they could never look down on again.

Someone successful. Someone worthy. Someone who could finally say, Look at me now.

But here's the painful part.

I was so busy trying to prove them wrong that I never realized I had already accepted what they said about me.

I believed them.

Maybe not consciously.

Maybe not in the way I presented myself to the world.

But deep down, their words had become the foundation of how I measured my worth.

Every mistake felt like proof that they had been right.

Every failure became another reason to hate myself.

Every time I struggled, those voices seemed to get louder.

And eventually, I didn't need anyone else to tear me down.

I was doing it for them.

I Had Become My Own Bully

This was one of the hardest realizations of my healing journey.

I had spent so much of my life being hurt by other people that I hadn't noticed how cruel I had become toward myself.

I repeated the same insults.

The same judgments.

The same hurtful messages.

Only now, they were coming from inside my own head.

And perhaps the saddest part was that when people tried to show me genuine kindness, I struggled to accept it.

Not because I didn't want love.

But because somewhere inside me, I didn't believe I deserved it.

I could recognize cruelty because I was familiar with it.

But kindness?

Compassion?

Being treated like I mattered?

Those were things I struggled to receive.

I had become hyper-aware of every flaw, every bad decision, every moment I hadn't lived up to someone's expectations.

But I was almost completely unaware of the way I spoke to myself.

I could spend hours analyzing what I had done wrong.

Yet rarely stopped to question why I believed I deserved to suffer for it.

And that's when I began to understand something.

Being accountable for my mistakes didn't mean I had to hate myself for making them.

I could acknowledge the choices I regretted without reducing my entire identity to those choices.

I could take responsibility for my reactions without taking responsibility for the abuse I experienced.

I could recognize the pain I had caused myself without pretending that the pain others inflicted never happened.

I could be both someone who had survived and someone who still had things to learn.

And most importantly, I could begin learning those things without constantly punishing myself.

Every Choice I Made Was an Attempt to Survive

I've made decisions I'm not proud of.

I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

There are things I wish I had handled differently.

Moments I wish I could revisit with the knowledge and awareness I have today.

But the person I was then didn't have the tools I have now.

I was trying to survive.

Trying to escape.

Trying to make sense of the chaos, the expectations, the judgments, and the voices telling me who I was supposed to be.

And it cost me.

Emotionally.

Mentally.

Spiritually.

For so long, I looked back at myself with disgust instead of understanding.

I judged my past self through the eyes of the person I was becoming, forgetting that she hadn't yet learned the lessons I know today.

I expected her to have answers she didn't have.

To recognize things she hadn't yet understood.

To make decisions from a place of clarity when so much of her life had been consumed by survival.

And eventually, I had to ask myself:

How was I supposed to heal if I couldn't stop hating the person I was trying to heal?

I was doing the best I could with what I had.

That doesn't mean every decision was right.

It doesn't mean there weren't consequences.

It means I was human.

A hurting, struggling human being who deserved the opportunity to learn, grow, and try again.

And I had to stop treating that as something to be ashamed of.

Learning to Give Myself What I Was Missing

Healing forced me to confront something deeper than the shame itself.

I had to confront my relationship with myself.

Because I didn't just struggle with negative thoughts.

I struggled with believing I was someone worth caring for.

Growing up, I didn't feel like my body was worth taking care of.

I didn't learn to value myself in the ways I needed.

And those beliefs didn't magically disappear when I became an adult.

I carried them with me.

Into my relationships.

Into my decisions.

Into the way I treated my body.

Into the way I allowed myself to be treated.

And eventually, into the way I spoke to myself when nobody else was around.

I had to begin learning how to re-parent myself.

To care for the person I had spent so long criticizing.

To acknowledge my emotions instead of running from them.

To recognize when I needed rest instead of treating exhaustion like another personal failure.

To set boundaries.

To practice self-respect.

To remind myself that taking care of my body wasn't something I had to earn.

And no, self-care isn't always bubble baths, candles, and a cute little skincare routine.

Sometimes self-care is sitting with emotions you've spent years avoiding.

Sometimes it's admitting that you're not okay.

Sometimes it's recognizing that the way you've been treating yourself is another wound that needs attention.

And sometimes, it's simply choosing not to abandon yourself again.

My Three Biggest Priorities in Healing

Over time, three things became especially important in my journey.

1. Self-Compassion

I had to learn to stop speaking to myself with the same cruelty I had experienced from others.

That didn't mean pretending I was perfect.

It meant recognizing that I could make mistakes and still be worthy of love.

That I could regret my decisions without making shame my entire identity.

That I deserved kindness, including kindness from myself.

2. Self-Awareness

For years, I thought I was self-aware because I could identify everything I believed was wrong with me.

But constantly criticizing yourself isn't the same as understanding yourself.

I had to start paying attention to my inner dialogue.

Whose voice was I hearing?

Where had that belief come from?

Was I responding to what was happening in the present, or reacting to pain I had carried from the past?

Those questions helped me begin separating who I actually was from who I had been told I was.

3. Self-Care and Boundaries

I had to learn that caring for myself wasn't selfish.

That my needs mattered.

That my body deserved care.

That my emotions deserved attention.

And that I was allowed to establish boundaries with people, including people I loved.

After those three priorities, I began focusing more intentionally on emotional regulation.

Practices like EFT tapping, journaling, and writing helped me slow down and examine what I was experiencing.

Blogging became another way to process my thoughts.

A way to take feelings that once seemed impossible to explain and finally give them words.

And maybe, by sharing those words, I could help someone else feel a little less alone.

Because I remember what it felt like to desperately search for answers.

To want to understand my own mind.

To wonder why I felt the way I did and whether I would ever feel differently.

That's part of why I share my story.

Not because I have everything figured out.

But because I know what it feels like to be searching.

4 Ways to Begin Releasing Shame

Shame can make you believe that your mistakes, your trauma, and your past define who you are.

But they don't have to.

These are four practices that have been meaningful in my own healing journey. They aren't instant fixes, and they won't erase what happened, but they may help you begin building a different relationship with yourself.

1. Mindfulness and Reflection: Ask Yourself the Hard Questions

For years, I avoided sitting with my emotions because I was afraid of what I might find.

But avoiding them didn't make them disappear.

It only left me carrying feelings I didn't fully understand.

Mindfulness taught me to begin approaching my emotions with curiosity instead of immediate judgment.

Some questions worth asking yourself:

What am I actually feeling right now?
Where is this feeling coming from?
Whose voice am I hearing when I criticize myself?
What triggered this reaction?
Am I ashamed of something I did, or have I been taught to feel ashamed of who I am?

You don't have to answer everything at once.

And if sitting with difficult emotions becomes overwhelming, it's okay to stop, ground yourself, or seek support.

The goal isn't to force yourself to relive your pain.

It's to begin understanding it.

2. Talk About It: Break the Silence Shame Depends On

Shame has a way of convincing you that your experiences are too embarrassing, too ugly, or too complicated for anyone else to understand.

It tells you to stay quiet.

To hide.

To pretend.

But silence can leave those beliefs unchallenged.

For me, writing and sharing my experiences became ways to confront that silence.

Not everyone needs to share their story publicly.

Sometimes talking to a therapist, a trusted friend, or a support group is enough.

Sometimes writing something in a journal that nobody else will ever read is a meaningful first step.

You don't owe anyone your story.

But you do deserve spaces where you can speak without being shamed for what you've experienced.

3. Practice Self-Compassion: Stop Becoming Another Voice That Hurts You

This one is especially personal for me.

I had spent years internalizing hurtful messages from family, exes, and bullies.

I had become so accustomed to criticism that I didn't recognize when I was doing it to myself.

Self-compassion meant learning to interrupt that pattern.

Instead of immediately attacking myself for a mistake, I began practicing different responses.

I was doing the best I could with what I knew.

I can take responsibility without hating myself.

My past does not make me unworthy of love.

I am allowed to learn.

I am allowed to change.

You might not believe those words immediately.

I know how difficult it can be to accept kindness when you've spent years believing you don't deserve it.

But that doesn't mean you stop trying.

Sometimes compassion begins with simply choosing not to add another insult to an already painful day.

4. Move Your Body: Reconnect With Yourself

Shame isn't always experienced as a thought.

Sometimes it's a tight chest.

A tense stomach.

A body that feels exhausted from carrying emotional stress.

Gentle movement can be one way to reconnect with your body and help manage that tension.

Yoga, stretching, dancing, walking, or simply taking a moment to notice your breathing can offer opportunities to feel more grounded.

This isn't about forcing yourself to exercise.

It isn't about changing your appearance.

And it certainly isn't about punishing your body.

It's about beginning to treat your body as something worthy of care.

Something I had to learn for myself.

The Shame Was Never Mine to Carry Alone

When I look back at the person I used to be, I can still recognize the pain.

The desperation.

The mistakes.

The moments I wish had gone differently.

But I'm learning to see something else, too.

A person who was trying.

A person who was hurting.

A person who had spent so long believing the worst things others said about her that she forgot she had the right to question them.

For years, I thought healing meant becoming someone completely different.

Someone stronger.

Someone who never made mistakes.

Someone who could finally prove that everyone who doubted me had been wrong.

But I'm beginning to understand that healing doesn't have to be about proving anything to anyone.

Sometimes it's about looking at the person you've spent years criticizing and finally asking:

"What happened to you?"

Instead of:

"What is wrong with you?"

And perhaps, even more importantly:

"What are you feeling?"

Not so you can judge it.

Not so you can run from it.

But so you can finally begin understanding yourself.

I still believe my feelings are valid.

And I still believe my reactions are my responsibility.

But I also believe I deserve compassion while learning how to manage both.

I am not every cruel word someone has spoken about me.

I am not every mistake I've made.

I am not the shame I've carried.

And neither are you.

Cry when you need to.

Rest when you need to.

Laugh when you can.

Take responsibility where you need to, and release responsibility for what was never yours.

You deserve the opportunity to grow without spending the rest of your life punishing yourself for having struggled.

You are worthy of every drop of love this world has to offer.

Including your own.

And above all, don't give up on yourself.

~✧༺•༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺•༻∞✧~

✨ 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 ✨ 𝒦𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝐹𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ✨