A Note on Shame
Shame is rarely loud. It often reveals itself in small, quiet ways, lurking beneath the subconscious belief that “There is something wrong with me or I am NOT enough.” And living life with this belief means that everyday you put in a tremendous effort to avoid rejection. You work harder, ask for less, hide your truth, or criticize yourself before anyone else has the chance.
Five ways I often see shame show up in grievers is through perfectionism, people-leasing, emotional numbing, defensiveness, and self-criticism.
With perfectionism, life becomes a constant process of editing ones’ self for approval. Mistakes feel threatening, and satisfaction remains just beyond the next achievement or self-imposed hurdle. In grief, this look like pressuring one’s self to cope well or appear strong despite struggling.
With people-pleasing, one becomes attentive to everyone else’s needs while losing touch with their own. Belonging or fitting-in depends on how little one asks for and how much they give. Grievers will often reassure others that they are okay because expressing their pain might be perceived as a burden.
Emotional numbing creates distance from painful feelings and offers a temporary relief. But it can also make joy, connection, and a sense of aliveness harder to access. Whereas, defensiveness or withdrawal keeps others at a distance, which may initially feel protective, yet can gradually become isolation, even when one longs to be understood.
On the other hand, self-criticism tries to promise protection from others’ judgment, but its constant scrutiny makes kindness feel unfamiliar and love seem undeserved.
These patterns most often develop in familial environments where vulnerability felt unsafe, affection seemed conditional, and acceptance or approval was based on performance. But we don’t have to carry these into adulthood. And we can reparent ourselves to make room for grace.
Consider asking yourself: Does my self-worth have to be earned through exhaustion, perfection, or self-denial? What would change if I no longer felt compelled to prove myself or demonstrate that I had done enough? What if I could express my needs without minimizing or apologizing for them? What if my mistakes became opportunities to learn, without becoming verdicts on who I am?
If you recognize yourself in these patterns, you’re in good company. I recognize parts of myself here, too. Perhaps we were trying to preserve a relationship, avoid humiliation, or remain accepted where acceptance felt uncertain. I have learned that we can meet these parts of ourselves with respect and compassion, acknowledging how they helped us cope while remaining open to new ways of responding.
