When You’re Ashamed to be Broken

My counselor said to make a new rhythm.

Here are the things I do now…

Go to the doctor, take showers, eat meals that other people make, get in the pool, read and write when I can get my mind to stop worrying long enough to focus, nurse my daughter, try to sleep through the night, watch funny movies, talk to my husband who is on the other side of the world and in a different day, listen to music.

Here are the things I can’t do currently…

Grocery shop, clean the house, take care of my twenty month old, cook meals, workout, fix anything, take my boys to do anything fun, go for a walk or run, keep up with my kids’ normal activities, help anyone, be self-sufficient, work in the yard, make plans, be productive, do all the things that normally give me a sense of worth and purpose.

And this is not ok with me. I cannot shake the sense of shame.

I told my counselor how unable I am to handle a simple thing like my leg not working correctly, and I even felt ashamed of this inability to cope with being broken. Because when I cannot do, then there is nothing to keep the fear that I am not enough at bay. As Brene Brown says,

“Shame is the most powerful, master emotion. It’s the fear that we’re not good enough.”

But she also says, “I know that the very best thing to do in the midst of a shame attack is totally counterintuitive: Practice courage and reach out!”

So I did. I wrote a post about how my legs stopped working, and I posted a photo of myself in a wheelchair. And what did I hear from you friends?

I heard love and encouragement, but more than that I heard that you are ashamed too. I heard that as women we sink deep into shame when we cannot care for others or ourselves.

That was the one firm foothold I needed to take a step forward. To know that I am not the only one who does not cope well when I cannot do and do and do for those I love. I am not the only one who equates shame with being cared for. I am not the only one who fears losing my grip if the constant movement of this American life comes to a halt for me.

Those were the comments that let me know I am not alone, that gave me room to process that just maybe I have an addiction. I had picked up Seth Haine’s book Coming Clean a week earlier, and in it he gently reminds that we are ALL addicted to something because “Somewhere, (our) thirst for distraction from the pains and poverties of life grew into a sweltering, parching thing. There are always feelings to be numbed, anxieties to tamp down, and panic attacks to avoid.”

Maybe I am addicted to doing. Maybe I must be seen as capable. And if not I have to stare feeling of shame straight in the face – make sense of it and ask God what he has for me in this. What purifying, purging, pruning, growing thing can He do in the midst of a ridiculous situation?

Most of you have read Brene Brown so you know her antidote to shame is vulnerability. Well if shame is the poison I am getting a very large dose of this anti-venom because “Vulnerability is about showing up and being seen. It’s tough to do that when we’re terrified about what people might see or think.”

I do not want you to see me as someone who lays on the couch while others take care of my kids. I do not want you to see me as someone whose largest event for the day is going to the doctor or making it to the pool to awkwardly swim some laps. I do not want to be seen as someone who is caring for herself because somewhere along the line I absorbed the lie that a woman must only ever give herself away, and if I cannot help others achieve and succeed then I am not worthy – not enough.

Friends, I am writing this because I heard that you feel the same, and I do not understand why we feel so very ashamed in our brokenness, but I do know that we are not alone in this.

Again Brene Brown says “Vulnerability is not weakness. And that myth is profoundly dangerous.”

This is the anthem I am claiming right now. My parenting, my home, my body, my schedule and goals have all been split right open at the seam. It all feels terribly vulnerable, but I am praying this will be dangerous. Dangerous to the enemy’s lies, dangerous to my addictions, dangerous to every person’s sense of shame who reads this post.

Let’s be dangerous friends. Let’s stand right here in whatever ridiculous situation we find ourselves in, stand right here with the Lord knowing there is nothing we have to prove, finding something to gain and give in our brokenness.