Founder of Shame School and author of You Are Not Your Mother: Releasing Generational Trauma & Shame and Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide for Separation, Liberation & Inspiration
an eye-rolling, judgmental sack of contempt
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People always talk about how they got hurt, used, abused, and manipulated. Never have I heard anyone say, "I was a villain once to someone." ~ ho.nest.y on Threads This past Sunday I was a villain. Mostly in my head, but a little bit outwardly, too. My husband and I went on a guided tour of the Connecticut College Arboretum, and boy did I have a lot of judgment about this one guy who was there. Y'all should have heard the commentary streaming from my brain! I stood apart from the group, arms crossed, mirrored sunglasses on. I felt like an eye-rolling, judgmental sack of contempt. [just like I remember my mother being sometimes] When I am like this, at the very least I try and witness it without shame, and at best, I love myself because (not "even though") I am snarly. We're talking full on unconditional love. [not like my mother] Before I knew how to do this, I just believed I was bad...so bad there was no coming back from it. Sometimes, when I couldn't control it, I'd project it onto others. A few times I was cruel. Outwardly. To people I love. And there were consequences. Relationships ruptured. Intense shame and regret ensued. I'd be shut down for weeks. I wrote about some of these times in You Are Not Your Mother: Releasing Generational Trauma and Shame. Relating differently to the part of me that sometimes feels like an eye-rolling, judgmental sack of contempt helps me not act on those feelings. Because ultimately, two things are true at the same time: #1 I truly do not want to be cruel to others and #2 I have the capacity to be the cruelest of the cruel. This is the paradox of the work I do. The more I love the part of me that can be a cruel-ass bitch, the more I cultivate the capacity to be authentically kind, nurturing, and compassionate...to be silly, engaged, and joyful (like when I am silent disco-ing on the boardwalk)...and to have those qualities emanate from the deepest and best place within me. I can have hard, awkward conversations without my shit leaking out sideways. Mostly. Sometimes I don't do it as elegantly as I'd like. Sometimes I'm a little leaky. And I know how to make a repair and change my behavior (if I want to). And even then, things might remain uncomfortable. My voice shakes. I can't find the "right" words. It's a practice, not a perfect. Getting back to that event at the Arboretum. While that stream of judgmental commentary issued from my brain, I used the 6 Ns to create safety and unshame the experience. I doubt the guy had any clue about what I was thinking about him. I also recognized a consequence: I may have missed out on making a genuine connection with someone. I didn't give anyone the opportunity to interact with genuine, warm me; nor did I get the opportunity to experience the same in them. I am okay with that. And the next time I am in a similar situation, I can choose differently. Or not. ~~~ If our mothers couldn't tolerate their uncomfortable feelings and love the parts of themselves deemed shameful, they couldn't do the same for us, and that's what makes it hard for us to do the same for ourselves (and others). It's a cycle that can end with us. Ending the cycle doesn't mean we're only love and light, it means we love the whole of who we are, including the parts that are hateful and dark. Eye-rolling, judgmental, and contemptuous. Defensive. Selfish. Grouchy. Mean. Hypocritical. Etcetera. The invitation is to unshame these feelings and parts. To witness them and love them and ask them what safe expression they seek. This gives you the space to act with consideration rather than letting those parts leak out sideways in ways you don't intend. Much, much love, Karen The second round of Shame School starts in February 2025. Click here to get on the wait list. Shame School is for the wild ones who were almost (but not quite) broken. It's for those who were told to rein it in and taught to play small. Who want to know and experience and love themselves as as they are. To be a model of that. Who want to run their own show without shame calling the shots. It's for the HellCats. Want to work with me privately?
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Karen C.L. Anderson
Founder of Shame School and author of You Are Not Your Mother: Releasing Generational Trauma & Shame and Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide for Separation, Liberation & Inspiration
If you're having a hard time maintaining your boundaries with your mother, try this: Ask yourself how and where she's making you responsible for her emotional experience (and you're unconsciously agreeing with her that it's your job). It's one thing to help her out with practical tasks. It's something else altogether when she expects you to help her manage her emotions. Much, much love, Karen The second round of Shame School starts in February 2025. Click here to get on the wait list. Want to...
I read Dear Abby pretty much every day. Sometimes my husband (who reads it before I do) will say, "There's a Dear Abby with your name written all over it" when someone writes in about an issue with a family member (often a mother) and at the end asks: "Should I feel guilty?" Or, "Am I overreacting?" Or, "Is it wrong to feel this way?" In my head I say, "Noooo! Don't outsource your emotions! Not even to Dear Abby! You get to decide...do you want to feel guilty? What if none of your feelings...
No sense shaming the shamer so I corrected this... ...but the sentiment is near and dear to my heart. One of the students in Shame School shared this the other day (and gave me permission to share it): "I'm too happy. I'm too easily excited. This makes me annoying to others. I start comparing how everyone else seems so calm and I'm just too happy, too smiley, too loud - too much (images flash of having my father and stepmother roll their eyes at me)" I, too, was shamed for my happiness,...