Worse Case Better Best: The Sacred Sniffles of Shame
I have an ego to topple Empires. I assume the best. I make friends easily. I speak up. I go first. I smile, remember names, shake hands (you know like when we were allowed to), engage and follow the fuck up.
Afterwards however, I eat my skin alive from the inside. I can barely stand my face or keep my place fixed, concentration certain. Ball in socket, eye on prize, ace anywhere near the hole. As I strut, inside I shrink.
Jesus, I did that again. How could I? Fuck, I can never go there again - talk to them - show my face…
The rooms I grace, my Central self wiggles away from. Virus eeking out the back door behind a loud laugh, big show - best intention lost in a flurry of hope and loose humility.
Example: On Friday I lead a virtual event - 100% self promoting as these things go .. I at first under planned and over marketed. Second over structured and under anticipated. Struggling to stay curious and get it right. The minutes crept up. The clock chimed. My attendees lined up in the Zoom waiting room ( aha, a sign so representative of our times …) that is when the sweat started.
I am inclined to go blow by blow through all the points of the event, but honestly I don’t even know if I can recall them. Worse than the sweat was and is the .. SHAME. She was and is the demon darling I know best.
This person who types before you - with her makeup and crafty outfits is a kid soft on too much kindness out front and loudly laughing convinced she is hate worthy and despicable.
What was I thinking?! How dare I invite these adults into my hovel of wax paper whimsy? I am dirty fingernails, out of touch, too needy, impatient, and fear driven to lead or facilitate anything beyond the cleaning of my own kitchen sink- which I can barely do to save my ass.
What I can recall - when I do try to look beyond the curtain of myself slaying is that they did talk, or at least some of them. There was the dominator and those who kept their screens off (what is up with that?!) My Zoom cut up a bit - undercutting me that is…. Time up came all at once too fast and too slow. Suddenly we were done. I stood there, sweat stains and proverbial pants down. So fuzzy and so convinced I had disgusted each of them as I have and do myself.
What I do know is that, since I hosted my high school Talent Show, is that I can be a bit stiff. Like fixed - that was and is my father’s feedback as he always steps up to knock down a B……..
Whatever kind of BS that is, like relationship wise, sadly ole Pa is right this time round. My commitment to being “right” reads a rigid; closed. Without play I am deaf and dull to the word wisdom and efforts of my peers.
The same ego that pushes my work forward holds me back from growth. Buoy I do between FORCE and FLIGHT. A coach cultivating nothing other than my own hamster wheel of self slaughter.
So, dearest readers, what is this but little more than a song of several shames? An indulgence? Turnt that thought will you? For I propose it is an unveiling, community coming out. I write as a hope to my homies too trapped in the fish net of forgetfulness of much more than flagellation.
What are we here for? If not knowledge, then we need let up on the pendulum of go and no. Shame sucks, sure. BUT is it little and no more than a defense from something more fearworthy - learning.
The shame is true only in that I allowed it, like a drug, to black me out. Protect me from maturity, assistance, and true aptitude. Bravery has nothing to do with ego. Shame steps in so we can jet out.
Challenge yourself to close the door. Bend your ear to the pauses in conversation. Maybe talk a bit less. A lot less in my case. Let the sweat flow. What you are to know is right there- beyond your nose. Sniff sniff.
