For the longest time, I didn’t know how much shame I lived in, but I know the exact moment when I discovered its presence. I was 37 years old. I was in a group with five other men who met once a month for support and encouragement. On the particular day that my eyes were opened to how much shame I carried around, Tim exploded in the conversation.
“Good lord, Herrington, how much is it going to take for you?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked defensively.
“You are the director of the largest local association of churches on the planet, and that’s not enough for you.”
Suddenly something that I didn’t know that I didn’t know emerged on to my radar screen. It came into clearer focus as I later told Betty about the conversation. Then I came back to Tim over a cup of coffee and more clarity emerged It took a while to see but eventually this is what became clear to me.
Eventually I was able to see that I grew up as a frail little kid who was shamed over and over about his size. So that you get the picture, at eighteen years of age, I was 5′ 7″ tall and weighted 119 pounds. Throughout childhood, I was called names like “sissy.” I was made fun of because of my size in a variety of settings. I was unable to effectively defend myself. Bullied by more than one kid and treated violently by more than one adult, I lived in a lot of fear. I constantly felt powerless. This resulted in a belief that there was something fundamentally flawed in who I was.
I’ve learned from Brene Brown and others to distinguish guilt and shame. I experience guilt when I’ve done something wrong. When I clean up the mess that I made, the feelings diminish over time. Shame is the sense that there is something wrong with who I am. Those definitions help me see that I lived a lot of my life from a place of deep shame.
With shame as a starting point, learning to love was really challenging. Shame is always an obstacle to love.
On the one hand, my shame gave me great compassion. I genuinely hurt for others who suffered. I wanted to ease their pain. While that can be an appropriate response, I was almost always over-functioning. I became responsible for everyone who suffered. As a result I became overwhelmed and resentful.
My shame also kept me from being real. I wore a mask, pretending to care for others while in my inner life I was judgmental and angry. I didn’t really love you. I wanted to fix you. I wanted to make you over into my image. I wanted to get your approval for being good.
Over time this left me feeling like a fraud – empty and alone.
Tim’s authenticity now nearly 30 years ago opened up something for me. It helped me bring the wounds of my shame into the light. It was a slow and painful journey, but one step at a time I shared my shame. Some friends helped me be compassionate with myself while growing my courage to tell my story. I discovered many others shared my experience.
Sharing my shame diminished its power in my life. Slowly I was freed to love people for who they are. I had less of an agenda when caring for people and there was more congruence in my external experience and my internal experience.
I still struggle. While I’ve grown in my freedom from shame, it can still be triggered.
I believe that I am most fully alive when I love God, neighbors, self, strangers and enemies. Shame that I carry or shame that I convey to others is always an obstacle to love. As I took on telling the truth about my shame and found its power diminished, I also found that I was more capable of living a life of love. I still have a long way to go, but I find a lot of hope in the journey.