Richard Rayner, MD
It came rushing back to me like a demon, digging its talons in my heart and mind with a determination to never let go. Standing at the top of the ski slope in Vail, my old friend, or more accurately my old fiend, showed up for a reunion. Shame.
Mine was not an athletic family. We were about the arts – visual, music, theatre – and education. Fat, slow, and lazy, I mistakenly labeled those involved in sports as stupid and untalented. Sure they were fit and looked like I wanted to, but look what they didn’t have. This skewed view (excuse) and ignorant judgment resulted in my knowing nothing of the joy and value of physical activity and fitness. In addition and perhaps more importantly, I never learned to play in a group. So much less able than the other boys in my neighborhood, I was always the last to be picked for any group sport either in the back yard, in gym class, or at recess. So I learned rather early on that I wasn’t made to do athletic things, and therefore didn’t deserve certain things socially available to the athletic types. In a time and environment where that was valued highly, particularly for boys, my distorted self-image was set, and deeply so.
It wasn’t until the running craze of the mid-70’s that I began to dip my toe into the pleasurable waters of physical activity. Thanks to Frank Shorter’s winning the 1972 Olympic Men’s Marathon gold medal, the nation was waking up to the idea that we could all become athletes of sorts, without the risk of needing others to be involved. I became a runner. But it was a solo adventure, limited only by my own desire as to how hard and far I wanted to push myself. In fact the appeal of running to me was that I couldn’t hold anyone else back, couldn’t be blamed for a loss, and there would be no ridicule of my ineptitude. This was my sport and my focus for a few decades. I “won” every race in terms of feeling satisfied that I was even able to do something considered athletic at all.
So at age 56 when I stood scared stiff on the easiest slope of Vail, after registering the actual fear, my distorted natural train of thought rolled along the track of “You have never been good at this type of thing, you never will be, why are you trying to prove that you are?” Though not blatantly evident to any around me, it was internally humiliating. On one occasion I stood there for at least 15 minutes, kind of pretending to be waiting for someone to show up. My only hope was that anyone else who may have been watching me for the whole time there was also suffering from the same condition. The shame increased with every passing minute.
Gershen Kaufman in his book, The psychology of shame: theory and treatment of shame-based syndromes, says this: “In the context of normal development, shame is the source of low self-esteem, diminished self image, poor self concept, and deficient body-image. Shame itself produces self-doubt and disrupts both security and confidence. It can become an impediment to the experience of belonging and to shared intimacy….”
Shame wears many different hats, all covering a head full of self-contempt.
Some shame we bring on ourselves. Sometimes called “genuine shame,” we are caught with our hand in the cookie jar. We’ve done wrong, we know it, and we feel it. It is a shame that arises from actual guilt. In that sense it’s useful, instructive, as well as restraining, the fear of it preventing us from doing things we shouldn’t. This shame is actually helpful, and can even lead to relief when we are discovered. Coming clean can be uplifting to the burdened soul.
Some shame is put upon us, used by others to manipulate us, and put us in a place where they want us. It’s a control technique that elevates the initiator through the humiliation of the receiver. Here the accomplished, great, and strong one puts the inadequate one in his “rightful” place. Rather than being instructive or restraining, it’s the type of shame that is most damaging because we are helpless in stopping the source. It inhibits the bearer from creativity and daring to experience greater things. It’s an arrow aptly aimed at finding the soft spot between the ribs and piercing the heart. The barbs on this arrow allow it to anchor itself strongly. Usually the archer is quite adept at his technique, skillfully spotting victims and pursuing them relentlessly. The perpetrator may even convince the recipient that they brought it on themselves. It’s a false shame, and leads to nothing good or healthy.
Another type of shame is what I think of as contrived shame. Often called “secret shame,” this is useless, unfounded shame crafted in our own minds. It is shame over being ashamed. It’s a phantom, the result of some belief that we need to be or do this or that. Often it is over something entirely unnoticed, akin to embarrassment over a birth mark unknown to others because it is totally hidden from view. Something has lead us to believe this thing is important, but it’s just manufactured in our own minds. It’s very likely no one is looking, but we maneuver, avoid, or hold our head down in our unfounded private humiliation. Again, this drives us to nothing good.
Occasionally we share the shame of another with whom we are associated. Vicarious shame is a lumping kind of shame. It results from the general belief that everyone had their hands in the same cookie jar. One is guilty because a member of her group is guilty, even though a particular individual’s story may be very different.
The ugly, dark shame contrasted vividly with the breathtakingly pristine and beautiful mountaintops surrounding me. It contained elements of all of the above. I so wanted to be a successful skier with my adult sons and daughter-in-law looking on. I wanted to be considered a remarkable father/father-in-law who could do whatever they could do. As the fear inside showed its face, the shame I felt as once again I could not do the physically demanding thing drove me to emotionally implode, to inwardly hide though outwardly present. I couldn’t talk honestly about it, only barely verbally hinting at its presence to my family and a degree more with my wife. I protected myself by sarcastically declaring that skiing itself was an impossible activity at my age and highly overrated. I don’t actually think I hid it well, but they were gracious and didn’t press.
Back on warm, dry Pennsylvania ground I’m able to see what fed my sports shame demon and think through this emotion clearly and rationally. I can talk myself into believing it is a thing of the past. But I know it isn’t. It is a demon whose influence on my psyche fluctuates depending on the situation. What is true, though, is that I am now able to balance striving to try new things with acceptance of realistic expectations for someone of my age, genetics and background. My fear was real! Those mountains are high! However, while I can allow for fear of injury, I do not have to be held back by senseless contrived shame of not performing well what others can do easily. At the risk of sounding cliché’, we are all capable of doing more than we think we can – not anything we can imagine, but certainly more than for what we too often settle.
I have conquered mountains and valleys of various sorts along the nearly 6 decades of my life. There have been several shame-busting helpers along the way – amateur running coaches, running partners, my loving wife, and in many significant situations my dear friend, business partner and very capable athlete David. With the help of these folks in very practical ways I’ve been able to experience the joy and freedom that come with trying new and physically challenging things. As I continually put forth the effort in re-working the mindset of who I am and what I can do, I find I want to trust God with the definition of who I am. I want to reject the influence of those who have had interest only in elevating themselves through demeaning comments and attitudes. By His grace it is happening slowly, but steadily.
Is your story darkened by shame? If you are dealing with genuine shame, then I encourage you to seriously consider what steps you can take to rid yourself of it. Are you at a loss as to how to start that process? Consider getting some help from a counselor, spiritual leader or trusted friend. Start by getting your hand out of the cookie jar, then move towards getting right with those whom you’ve offended. Coming clean is refreshing to the soul. And, if you are fortunate enough to receive forgiveness, consider it icing on the cake of confession.
If contrived shame that you’ve put upon yourself is the issue, lift the covers off of it and expose it to the light of what’s actually true. It’s not real and it’s certainly neither instructive nor necessary. Again, help may be needed. If shame has been put upon you unfairly, lift your head up, stand up, call it what it is, reject it, maybe get help sorting it out if needed, and move onto the path of triumph. And enjoy the view of the new heights you reach.
Mountain biking, anyone?!
