Such a buzzword, I hate getting into the jargon of the self-help world. I was listening to a podcast the other day about shame and didn’t think it was all that applicable. Because shame comes from a place of feeling bad about ourselves, a shroud of disappointment that we aren’t generally a better person, that we are overall doing poorly showing up in life. I don’t exactly feel like that. I’m ok with the fact that I’m not all that yet, that I’m still learning, that I flounder consistently. That’s all of us. It’s just that she made me think of some uncomfortable memories, both recent and from long ago. While I wouldn’t call them shameful, I would maybe label them something along the lines of Things I said/did/was that I wish I could suck back up in a huge vacuum canister.
We’d had a family over for family night and Todd gave a lesson on developing our talents. Each member of both families brought an item to share and to talk about: basketball, wood turning, lettering, piano, quilting, pillows. The men got talking about their wood hobbies as we ate dessert, we showed them Andrew’s knives, we talked about Callum's leatherworking, etc. We love this family, they are so gracious.
But as soon as they left, I clammed up, I didn’t say much at all, just went to bed and read my book. I couldn’t figure out what was bothering me, I was perplexed. Until Todd came to bed and asked if we’d talked too much about ourselves. And I knew that was it. I was so unsettled thinking that we had. That I had talked so much period. Ugh. I felt so embarrassed, and I wanted to rewind the whole night and start over. I wanted to go back and ask them more questions, to take the light off of us. I texted her. Sweetest thing ever—their whole family is. She, of course, blew it off and was so kind. I felt slightly less upset and a little bit relieved, but I knew it was only because they are such good people and would never judge us or think ill of anyone that I was able to.
So as I listened to this podcast the following day, I realized I wasn't alone in feeling this sense of discomfort. Maybe not what therapists are truly talking about, but it helped me see that I have loads of experience with something like this at least. In my case, just temporary (sometimes longer) bouts of embarrassment or wanting to hide. It helped me recognize so many instances or ways I’d held in all these experiences, sort of punishing myself for having not done better or been different. So I felt grateful for the wake-up call to relegate these pasts to their proper place.
I’d been so bothered by how I treated a friend in elementary school, probably now it would be called bullying, I can’t even believe that was me. And how I took advantage of my best friend’s mom who drove me to dance and flute lessons and bought me McDonald's hamburgers when we had late dance practice and took me to Marshall Scotty's and the Nutcracker; I never found a way in my immature girl way even to say an appropriate thank you. Although I wrote a letter years back that I have no idea she got. I’ve felt so careless when I think of the friends who took me to the airport and to my orthodontist appointments in college, friends who helped me move and took me grocery shopping. Why did I never tell them all how much it meant? Why did I never pay them gas money?
I think of all the comments I make in church or when I share my testimony; most of the time I wish I could take it all back in and just sit quietly on my little chair like Todd always does. He is so wise. I go on and on when I should just stop. That night with our friends I recognized that it was because I had been home all by myself all day that I was eager to visit. And I realize I talk at church because I love it all so much, I get excited, I love good conversation and sharing ideas. I notice I ask too many questions and over-talk in regular life, that it’s overwhelming for people; I hate that I forget to pay attention to that. I’ve put my foot in my mouth countless times.
I had to speak in Sacrament meeting a few weeks back and chattered on, taking up too much time. Like so many other times, I wish I could go back and have a do-over. I taught the lesson yesterday and came home embarrassed and discouraged. I tried so hard to prepare, to organize the ideas from a Conference talk. But I’m not good at talking and thinking at the same time, so it’s all sort of uncomfortable for me. I lose my train of thought, I’m assimilating how all the different personalities may be feeling about comments, I want to acknowledge and validate those who share, I just feel like a mess.
I also feel like I overshare. Ugh. I have taken down so many posts because I second-guess myself. I just had one up a few weeks ago that I took down. I was just feeling so content that night and wanted to point out that, while nothing exciting at all had happened, it is in the small things that we can find joy. But then I realized it looked like I was boasting and showing off all I had done in a day. Which is exactly ridiculous because our house was a bomb and I hadn’t gotten even part-way through my list for the day. I was just loving having pizza from a store, spending time with Todd, watching our cows, my little antique baby shoe purchase, etc. But I felt so embarrassed that any of that could be construed as showing off. Furthest thing from my mind. But just in case, I didn’t want to take the chance. I felt ashamed it could even seem that way.
I also feel a little like downplaying variables in my life that I simply can’t help. That I’m married and that we’re happy. That I happen to have birthed five kids who survived and are healthy. I wonder if, by sharing our home projects, we’re bragging or showing off? (I simply love—absolutely love—before and after pictures and transformations so much, my favorite magazine articles! We don’t go on a lot of trips or have exciting adventures, this is what our live entails and so it’s what we share.) I worry that I have so much discretionary time; I feel guilty. Like I’m an old-fashioned rich lady who only has luncheons on her docket for the day. I try to compensate for it by doing what I can to help out. And I try to make light of all of it.
But here’s what I’m learning. By dwelling on the past and conditions we can’t change—whether they were in elementary school or ten minutes ago—we’re not moving forward. The best recourse to an awkward encounter or a regretful situation is to acknowledge that I acted humanly. To accept and love myself. Make amends. Remind myself that’s not who I really am—or at least not who I want to be. Leave the experience behind. Learn from it. Do better the first chance I get. As far as what I have—a house, a yard, a family, extra time—all I can think about that is to use it all for good, to share, to include, to serve. I can’t—and don’t want to—change it, but I can use all the resources I’ve been given to support and lift and help others. I'm convinced it's nothing to be ashamed about.
I love my friends who give me the benefit of the doubt. Who know me and realize I was just off or wasn’t thinking, that I blurted out something too quickly because I was feeling insecure; they are so kind and loving. To those I’ve offended, I just have to assume we don’t know each other well enough. If we did, they would know that would never in a trillion years be my intention. And so the only option there is to allow ourselves to get to know each other better or to accept that they are welcome to create any opinion of me they want and it’s none of my business. And it’s too bad we can’t be friends.
All of this sounds so tidy when it’s written in black and white. But we all know how we re-hash our interactions, our falls, our pasts—recent or long ago. I know I would not purposefully be mean or try to hurt someone’s feelings or be a braggart or that weird lady who talks too much. I honestly don’t want to be that kind of person. So I sense how healthy it is to remind myself of that. That it was just a little trip, a stumble, a misjudgment, nothing to cave over. I love Maya Angelou’s sentiment, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
And so we can continue on our journey with faith in ourselves and others, aware that we’re all learning and practicing and doing our current best. There is nothing shameful about making mistakes or about being human. As we compassionately permit ourselves to carry on, we grant that same courtesy to our fellow travelers, which allows us all to be our real selves, warts, foibles, and all, without shame.
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