We were sitting on steps, speaking Spanish, and shucking peas. Life in the Salvadoran countryside was slow, so sitting, talking, and shucking were the activities of the day. I listened to these women as they reflected about their lives, their viewpoints, and themselves. They spoke about how ugly they felt, how undeserving they were of love and belonging. It became very apparent to me very quickly that we weren't just shucking peas on those steps as we attempted to communicate in foreign tongues, we were also shucking shame: acknowledging it, sharing it with each other, and attempting to reframe it for a truer outlook of ourselves.Â
It was shocking to me that although these women and I grew up in such different contexts, we shared this sad commonality: shame defined ourselves and limited our lives. I can't tell you how many times I have had similar thoughts: if I were only more of this or more of that I would be worthy of love and belonging. Sexier, smarter, healthier, more positive, wealthier, I was always looking to be more than who I was. I wasn't born this way though, this was a learned behavior.Â
I was raised in a context where from a very young age there was no room to be myself. I was terribly shy, nerdy, and tomboyish. I wanted to read books and learn lots and wear pants so that I could climb trees. My appearance meant nothing to me. But these qualities were slowly repressed by the desire to be loved and to belong. My family was extremely sociable, superficial, and sports-driven. If you didn't scream at the dinner table, you weren't heard. If you didn't eat everything all at once, you didn't eat. If you weren't the best athlete, you weren't paid attention to. If you weren't the prettiest, you didn't matter. Everything was a fierce competition and I had to keep up.
On top of all of that, there was the sexual trauma and physical illness. The blame, guilt, ugliness, responsibility, and shame that I developed from years of mistreatment and lack of control over my body pushed my most authentic self deeper into hiding. I grew up always trying to prove myself better than the way I was treated, show that there was nothing in fact wrong with me, and fight for love and belonging. I learned to swim hard and dress up and wear makeup and talk fast and eat faster and fake wellness just to survive. While the introverted, bookish, curious, tree-climbing tomboy hid beneath waiting for the time that she could be set free.Â
When I arrived in college she came out fiercely. She was devoted to sitting with the necessary steps, embracing the foreign process, and learning to shuck the shame of her past: she shucked the blow dryer, the makeup, the fierce athleticism, the food frenzy, and the extroversion. As the memories of sexual abuse arose, she shucked those too: delving into the blame, the pain, the guilt, the responsibility, and the ugliness in order to clear it from her soft spirit. She shucked the illness and any belief that there was anything wrong with her.
The process of shame shucking took a lot of time and a lot of steps, over ten years in fact, and felt like trying to learn a foreign language. My dominant personality developed over time was much more familiar to me; she knew how to survive. But my truer and less familiar personality could now be free and had to learn who she was and how she was going to live, how she was going to thrive. I had to let myself transition from who I was taught to be to who I actually am. I had to learn to trust myself.
Well, at 31 years old, I feel that I have finally accomplished the steps, mastered the foreignness, and shucked all of that shame out of myself. I have clarity about who I am, how I'm loved, and where I belong. I understand now from years of therapy, lots of self-reflection, and a supportive community that I deserve love and belonging just as I am. I am now devoted to building a life around my shy, nerdy, and tomboyish self. My shame will no longer define who I am or limit my life. That's my job: to define myself and explore my life limitlessly.
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Photo credits:
1. Peas