“What you cannot turn to good, you must make as little bad as you can.” – Thomas More
We bumped up against shame a couple times this past weekend. As always, it left a mark.
The first time was when a group of young kids, including my 6-year-old daughter and her friend were looking into a stream that’s on the way to the salmon spawning grounds. They weren’t doing anything wrong and I believe the grown-up that was with them was making sure they weren’t going to but an activist yelled at them in case they were thinking of stepping into the water.
The second was when my daughter dropped an old iPhone that I’d given her to play with. It’s so outdated that it doesn’t have any value to a grown-up and can’t connect to the Internet but it does turn on and take pictures. She’s old enough now to understand the cachet of a phone and was so excited that she even put on jeans so that she’d have a pocket to carry it in.
But when she discovered that after dropping it a few times the screen had cracked, she followed suit and cracked. Her melt down was in part because she accurately assessed that I wouldn’t replace it. But more than that, she was ashamed that people would know she was a person who couldn’t take care of a phone.
Shame reminds me of an incident when I was 18-years-old. I was with a group of guys in a bar in Idaho. We were too young to buy drinks so we were just standing around when someone who we’d helped tow his boat earlier in the day offered to buy us a pitcher of beer. I was the closest and because I didn’t drink, I said, “no thank you” even though I meant “not for me.” The guys I was with could have killed me. But no one said anything.
This incident still marks me more than 30-years-later because I’ve never talked about it. I felt like a goodie-two-shoes even though I didn’t care – I just misspoke. Even typing it makes me feel that burn all over again. It’s because it’s so trivial and yet I still remember that I know how powerful shame can be.
After the incident at the stream this weekend, my daughter and her friend bumped into each other and they got into a kerfuffle about space. As an observer, it was clear it had nothing to do with who bumped whom and everything to do with discharging the shame of being yelled at by a stranger when they very much like to follow the rules.
The night the phone cracked I sat with my daughter at bedtime and we talked about shame. About how silence and secrecy are the things that shame feeds on and if we want to stop the shame spiral, we have to talk about it lest we give it the power to make us feel unworthy.
As we talked, I realized that I was confused as a parent about which message to emphasize because I think taking care of the things we own is important. But making the distinction between it was bad to drop the phone and being a bad person because she couldn’t take care of the phone was more important to me. Because shame leaves a mark. But how deeply etched the mark is depends on how quickly we can pull out of the shame spiral.
As a postscript, when my mom came over last night, my daughter pulled out the phone she had hidden when she was ashamed and talked about what was on the phone, how it got cracked and what we need to do to take care of our stuff. It was like getting immediate feedback on a test and we passed. Phew!
You are so right about shame feeding on silence and secrecy, having someone to talk to really helps.
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So true! Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!
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Shame shapes us subtly. Manipulators intrinsically know this, so it’s a powerful tool in their arsenal. When we can have conversations about shame, in an open and forthright way, we lay the ground for people to recognize it and to even be able to not choose to carry it! Bravo!
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Wow, what a lovely comment. I like how you point out that shame shapes us subtly. I hadn’t thought of it in that way but yes, it makes so much sense. Thank you, as always, Tamara, for reading and commenting!
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As always it is my pleasure!
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Now that I’m getting to know your father through your memoir, I see his loving example at work in the way you approach parenting.
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What a lovely comment, Rosaliene! Geez, you are two for two in bringing tears to my eyes this week. 🙂 I’m so grateful to you for reading my book about my dad. Thank you! ❤
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And thank you for sharing his story with us ❤ I've got two more chapters to go. It's not the kind of book that I can rush through since it's filled with so many lessons about the way we respond to life's challenges and adversities.
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That’s similar to how I feel about The Twisted Circle. I’m about halfway through (Chapter 25) but it has so much to take in that I’m enjoying it slowly!
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This is a wonderful lesson that you shared with your daughter. That although she could’ve been more responsible with the phone, ultimately, you still love her no matter despite of that mistake. She will remember this conversation for years to come. 💕
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I hope so. It seems like this job of parenting is in the little touch points we do every day, not just being there for the milestones. Right?
Thank you, Ab!
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Lovely post.
I like the heartwarming way you have explained, “But making the distinction between it was bad to drop the phone and being a bad person because she couldn’t take care of the phone was more important to me.”
Then emphasizing, “I think taking care of the things we own is important.”
Best wishes.
Chaya
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Thank you, Chaya. I find it hard to figure out the right thing to say in some of these moments so I find it heartening when I get it right! Thanks for the encouragement!
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It’s been said, “Guilt knocks you down, and shame keeps you there”. Thanks for the encouragement that be we 6, 18 or 80, we can rise back up.
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Oh, that is such a great saying. Yes! Thank you, Fred!
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I bet she’ll be careful with her next phone, however long that may take to show up.
I’ve been known to drop my phone too. She’s in good company.
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Yes, I’m sure you are right that she’ll be so careful. What I love is the more comfortable she’s gotten to tell people, the more they have commiserated about their own phones drops. Yep, we’ve all done it! Thanks for reading and commenting!
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A lovely and loving post. “The Night the Phone Cracked” sounds like the title to an unwritten book. As to shame, we walk a fine line these days from the world of Hester Prynne to a shameless world where a few letters other than “A” bring cheers and celebrity. A shame. To the good, your children have been blessed with a wise mother.
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Thank you, Dr. Stein. Yes, what our world appreciates is mind-boggling at times. I appreciate you reading and for your generous comment!
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“We talked about shame. About how silence and secrecy are the things that shame feeds on and if we want to stop the shame spiral, we have to talk about it lest we give it the power to make us feel unworthy.” What great wisdom to share with your daughter, that shame only exist in darkness!
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Thank you for this kind affirmation. May we all be able to share the light of understanding for each other!
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