Daring Greatly: My Dark Side

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On a plane somewhere between Orlando, FL and Los Angeles, CA: (From the Daring Greatly Blog Read-Along - Pages 58 – 111 (Chapter 3))

Holy week of changes, batman. Due to the unexpected dangerous weather conditions, our entire trip to New York was cancelled. We are one of the lucky ones because we actually didn’t have to deal with real crisis’s by actually being there, but there was a lot of time spent canceling travel, rearranging flights and adding events in Nashville to try to make up for what we missed had we gone to New York.  

So, my official statement on why my blog review from the Daring Greatly Read Along is so late is because of Hurricane Sandy. But the underlying crux of my writing hold up is because of “Hurricane Snelly.” Or, as Brené Brown has so gingerly referred to it, my own personal “shit storm of shame.”

The title of Chapter 3 is: Understanding and Combatting Shame. The first line of this chapter is: “Vulnerability and shame in one book! Are you trying to kill us?” I laughed it off when I first read it, but now 2 weeks after reading the chapter and listening to the podcast and approximately 14 days of tossing and turning over shame in my brain, I have to ask the same question. WTH are you trying to do to me, Brené?

After reading the intro and first two chapters of this book, I was convinced I could ‘do’ this vulnerability thing. In fact, perhaps my weekly reviews (and links directly onto the Ordinary Courage blog!) would earn me some sort of gold star (in the form of a V, naturally). Fantasies of Brené and I, sipping champagne, musing on our roles as Vulnerability Spokespeople took over my subconscious.

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Until I read about shame.

Initially, for blog purposes only, I started mentally going through my back catalogue of memories to choose one shaming event in my life that I could share with “my public.” (And since my public includes my mother, it would have to be shame-lite, of course.) What ended up happening was, after reviewing 37 years of “nothing but failures and promises that I couldn’t keep” (give or take 10 years while I was learning basic motor skills), I was swept away into a hurricane of embarrassment, despair and destruction.

WHAT I READ & HEARD (A MISHMASH):

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Brené writes:
“We all have shame. We all have good and bad, dark and light, inside of us. But if we don’t come to terms with our shame, our struggles, we start believing that there’s something wrong with us – that we’re bad, flawed, not good enough – and even worse, we start acting on those beliefs. If we want to be fully engaged, to be connected, we have to be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable, we need to develop a resilience to shame.”

Logically, I understand what she’s saying. And I know that we are all comprised of a yin and yang side. But as each memory flooded my senses with despicable guilt and humiliation, I could actually feel myself slipping down the rabbit hole. Not good enough, too many stupid mistakes, unable to be fully loved… The list and the belief that they might actually be truth continued to grow.

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Brené says:
“When we’re in shame and overwhelmed by the feeling of being unlovable, that feeling strikes terror in our hearts because it really attacks that central survival mode of ‘I need to be loveable to survive.’ We have no access to our strengths when we’re overwhelmed with shame.”

Again, she was right on the money. My strengths (and I know I have some, they just weren't on the forefront of the brain at the moment) were nowhere to be found. All I seemed to focus on is how many times and how many ways I have f*$#ed up. But what’s even worse is that this isn’t just a “past mistakes” kind of feeling. It’s that I’m STILL doing it. It’s not like I’m in recovery and I can reminisce on my ‘using days’ where there are even steps to make amends.

The fact is, the missteps and poor choices and living with a faint worry that I am going to die alone with a cat eating off half of my face – is happening as we speak.

As big as my capacity is to love and forgive others, I sometimes find it borderline impossible to believe that I am worthy. Not to be overly dramatic – I do believe I am worthy of the things I have now: of an amazing job, two great places to live, 1200+ “friends” on Facebook. But these are all things that I’ve worked for and earned.

 But recently, I have gotten caught up in a 'shit storm of shame,' focusing on what I'm lacking instead of what I am blessed with. Like most single gals my age, I'm looking for a partner. Not just a body to keep me warm (though I've tried to psych myself out by pretending that would be enough), but rather, someone who shares (as Brené says): "a common language and a common understanding. I want a partner in daring. I want a partner in being courageous.” That desire, in itself, is not a bad one to have. It's just that it's constantly clouding my daily thoughts. I am starting to believe that without it, nothing is worth it.

And let me be clear: simply writing that statement above brings on a HUGE amount of shame. Last I checked, I was an intelligent, confident, successful woman. And yet I'm crying over the fact that I don't have a boyfriend? Lame. It actually reminds me of (one of the amazingly) great lines in Eat Pray Love where Elizabeth Gilbert is trying to meditate and can't seem to focus:

"Which is getting embarrassing, to be quite honest. I mean—here I am in this sacred place of study in the middle of India, and all I can think about is my ex-boyfriend? What am I, in eighth grade?"

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Now, I logically realize that having a plus one does not guarantee happiness. In fact, the times I did have a boyfriend (though they clearly weren't the right ones) did not make it 'all ok'... hence my ending the relationships. And I suppose if I really did want a boyfriend, I could make a couple of calls and sweet talk someone into playing the part. However, it's not about having just someone.

Emily Rapp writes: 
"Happiness and fulfillment are possible with or without a husband, a boyfriend, a friend-with-benefits, a late night/occasional booty call, or any other person I might expect to usher me through my life, make me feel good about myself, or provide reassurance that my physical presence on the planet is appreciated, desired, and/or required."

But in my lowest times, it's not so much of a fear of aloneness, but rather, a question if I'm actually worth getting to know to the core. Between my neuroticism and messiness and never satisfied nature (and a million other things too shaming to list) -- how I am to believe that anyone would actually want to sign up?

As cliche as it is, I understand that I must look inward to tackle this terror. Brené writes: “Over and over, I heard the idea of self-love as a prerequisite to loving others, and I hated it.” She continues. “Sometimes when we dare to walk into the arena, the greatest critic we face is ourselves.”

A friend recently encouraged me: “The only thing I can say -- and it’s not gonna help you until you believe it yourself – is that everything works out. It always does. It’s corny and I never believed it, but it does. I can prop you up but it won’t make a lick of difference if you don’t believe it yourself.”

So I guess my challenge is to first believe it myself. That, despite my flaws and shortcomings and mistakes, I am worth it. When Kelly Clarkson sings, "Everybody's got a dark side. Do you love me? Can you love mine?" I realize I need to first answer that for myself, not dependent on anyone else.


I just don't know if I can promise I won't run away....