I carry the shame
Of the impoverished upbringings of my parents. Abuse and neglect. I can’t wear stained or torn of illfitting clothes when I leave the house. We don’t do that.
I carry the shame
Of the unwanted weight on my body.
Not maintaining my appeal for men and equally, for caring what anyone thinks of me, especially men.
I carry the shame
Of not fixing my anxiety
Of passing it on to my child
Of not being enough.
I carry the shame
Of staying stuck
Of not rising, using my talents for more.
Of not burning brightly like they all say I can.
I live my shame within my large body
In the darkness of pain and of blame.
It is embodied in my name.
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Comments
I can so relate to this. I send energy to our rising above the shame.
This is why I know I need to write my most “shameful” truths. So that other people can relate and feel a little better about feeling bad. I just doubled my anti-anxiety meds yesterday because I’m worth not always feeling that way. We have eachothers backs Miss Cindy!
Love,
Shalagh
You are an example of rising above it. You don’t, I hope, have to carry that weight forever. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You are a light for the rest of us and for the world. Stand tall – you are making it better for those behind us. XO I/we believe in you. Thank you.
It is so wonderful to know that my oldest blogging friend keeps her eye on me. Yes, I am leading by example and I know it’s not my fault and I would love to escape from shame’s tendrils eventually. I remember many things you’ve said. Thank you for saying them.
Love,
Shalagh