Secrets and Shame -- Advent Lesson #2

What do I want to say? It's always hard for me to write when I haven't written for over a week or more.

I've been doing some "considering" again...

I've been thinking about shame.

One of my sisters asked me why it was I could post in a public forum about my most recent struggle with depression and not tell the ones to which I'm closest with, live with and have a relationship with.

I paused and thought for moment, sinking down into myself willing to look at whatever it was....

It was shame. And I explained how writing it in a forum that was removed from the personal and direct was an effort to push past my comfort level and the shame I was feeling about it all. So I "put it out there," "said it."

I think subconsciously I knew one or more sisters may read my blog, and therefore would find out about it that way. But writing it in a blog was less of a risk for me, less scary, than saying something directly and getting immediate feedback.

Shame -- responding through fear -- was dictating when, how much, with whom, and in what format I would share the information. (Sidebar: Although I did not do it this time around, I'm an advocate for going the direct way whenever possible!)

One thing I do wish to be clear about is that the issue was not that my community of sisters wouldn't be compassionate and supportive, but that I was too ashamed and scared to risk checking it out. And most likely no matter what my sisters said to reassure me, there would be a part of me that doesn't trust that it's for real. Because it's hard for me to comprehend how someone could be compassionate and supportive of me when I'm feeling shame about who I am, my very being.

In the worst of depression I become the Queen of Projections! For example, I believe no one wants to be around a depressive, so surely others don't want to be around me when I'm depressed. Another example: I believe because I grapple with depression in my life that I'm a burden or not a viable member of community (or society for that matter). And I fear others will think the same way, as well. "What if that's true?!" (In the pit of depression it's not exactly a reality one wants to face.) So you can see how depression sort of skews rational thinking and blocks out wisdom, truth and light!

There was a real part of me that wanted to share my struggle with my sisters, but there was a bigger shameful part of me that just wanted to keep it to myself and do my best to hide it.

So...all of this hiding because of shame has lead me to think about Mary, the mother of Jesus. (And, about my own birthmother.) Although Mary could not 'conceive' of the idea of what the angel Gabriel was saying, her response was one of openness and willingness: "Be it as you have said." Society's response was: This is a shame! (to be pregnant out of wedlock).

For those who don't know yet, I was given up for adoption. Five years ago when I, by chance, had the opportunity to reunite with my birth family, my maternal grandmother told me my mother's pregnancy was a shameful thing, especially during the early 60's, and that's why they decided to keep the reality of my life a secret to their graves.

Somewhere along the way (maybe since before my birth) I've internalized the message that my very existence is something to be ashamed about. Intellectually and rationally I know that's not true. It doesn't make believing it in my gut any easier.

Shame is a powerful weapon. It's used to repress and oppress others. It breeds secrets and mistrust. It encourages judgments rather than compassion. It's a monster that takes on a life of its own, and has long-reaching effects. It separates us from the Divine, and from the Divine in each other.

So as I approach, yet another, birthday (Dec 18th), here's Advent Lesson #2. It's a thought to ponder and consider along beside me:

Can you imagine if Mary and Joseph (because of shame) had decided to keep the reality of Jesus' birth a secret?