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Ending The Journey
Maybe — just maybe — this is good enough.
I’ve been talking about fear a lot — owning it, calling it out, overcoming it — all really good things to do when faced with something you would rather back away from, but something occurred to me recently; I’m not afraid.
I mean, yeah, I probably am afraid to some extent, but fear isn’t what is holding me back.
It’s shame.
Merriam-Webster defines shame as a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety, which is a perfectly fine definition. But it isn’t quite right.
One of my favorite thing about words is how they change, adapt, conform and take on new meanings as time goes on. Their definitions growing and expanding to fit the times. The word shame has been around since the 1300s, so I definitely think it is due for an update.
A more recent definition by Brené Brown says that shame is an intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and, therefore, unworthy of love and belonging.
That feels more fitting.
The by-product of an emotionally abusive and neglectful childhood is a deeply shameful adult.
For me, this shame has been rooted in one central question:
