Many of Us Spend Years Believing There's Something Wrong With Us

I don't think we're born feeling like pieces of shit.

Or believing we're too much.

Too needy.

Too emotional.

Too sensitive.

Too different.

Too gay.

Or not enough.

Or unlovable.

Or broken.

Somewhere along the way, those beliefs became part of who we thought we were.

Somewhere along the way, we bought into the shame.

Nobody Has to Tell a Child They're Wrong

I don't think most people are deliberately taught shame.

In fact, I think most parents are doing the best they can with what they were given.

Children are asking questions they don't even know they're asking.

"Am I safe?"

"Am I loved?"

“Do I belong here?"

If being loud is met with criticism, they become quieter.

If expressing big feelings is met with discomfort or shut down, they learn to keep those feelings to themselves.

If they sense that certain parts of themselves make the adults around them uncomfortable, they begin hiding those parts.

They don't conclude,

"The adults around me find this difficult."

They conclude,

"There must be something wrong with me."

Children are incredibly good at working out what helps them belong.

They notice what gets approval.

What gets ignored.

What gets criticised.

Little by little, they adapt.

They become who they think they need to become.

Not because they're pretending.

Because at the time, it feels like survival.

Belonging matters.

The difficulty is that we often carry those adaptations into adulthood, long after we need them.

We stop expressing our needs.

We keep parts of ourselves hidden.

We apologise for taking up space.

We find it difficult to believe compliments.

We assume other people are judging us in the same way we've learned to judge ourselves

Not because those beliefs are true.

But because they've become so familiar they simply feel like reality.

The Lessons We Never Realise We're Learning

I was a sensitive, fun-loving and playful little boy.

But I was met with:

“Stop being such a fairy!”.

Not because Mum didn't love me.

She did. To the moon and back.

But because she was scared for me.

She wanted to toughen me up.

Because the world didn’t, and perhaps still doesn’t, welcome sensitive little fairy boys.

But her attempts didn’t work. I didn’t toughen up.

Instead, I learnt that there was something wrong with me.

The difficulty is that as children, we don't always hear the intention.

We hear the message.

And children are far more likely to question themselves than the adults they depend on.

The message can become something we carry for decades.

The details are different for all of us.

Maybe you learned that crying wasn't acceptable.

Maybe you learned that anger was dangerous.

Maybe you learned that you had to achieve to be noticed.

Maybe you learned that being sensitive made you weak.

Maybe you learned that your sexuality, your gender, your body or simply the way you experienced the world wasn't quite okay.

Sometimes nobody ever says the words.

We still learn the lesson.

Children are remarkably good at filling in the gaps.

And once shame takes root, it has a way of colouring everything that comes afterwards.

You start second-guessing yourself.

You become hyper-aware of what other people might think.

You edit yourself before you've even opened your mouth.

You stop asking,

"What do I need?"

And start asking,

"What do they need me to be?"

Many boys grow up believing that vulnerability is weakness.

That asking for help is failure.

That independence is strength.

For many LGBTQ+ people, it can mean growing up with the sense that some part of who they are needs to be hidden, explained or apologised for.

Different experiences.

The same outcome.

The same underlying question.

"Will people still accept me if they see the real me?"

That's a heavy question for anyone to carry.

Especially when they've been carrying it since childhood.

How We Learn To Live With Shame

Shame is incredibly painful.

So it's hardly surprising that we spend so much of our lives trying not to feel it.

Most of us don't consciously think,

"I'm trying to avoid shame."

Instead, we find ways of trying to survive.

Some of us become people-pleasers.

If everyone else is happy, perhaps we'll finally feel like we're enough.

Some of us become perfectionists.

If we can just get everything right, perhaps nobody will notice how flawed we feel inside.

Some of us become fiercely independent.

We convince ourselves we don't need anyone because relying on other people has never felt particularly safe.

Some of us become the funny one.

Humour can be a wonderful way of connecting with other people.

It can also become a brilliant way of making sure nobody gets behind the mask.
The tears of a clown.

Some of us throw ourselves into work.

Some into looking after everybody else.

Some into achievement.

And some into alcohol, drugs, chemsex, sex, pornography or other compulsive behaviours.

Anything that helps us not feel what we're carrying.

The strategy matters less than the reason behind it.

We're all trying to escape the same painful belief:

"There's something wrong with me."

None of these coping strategies make someone weak.

In fact, many of them are incredibly creative.

Over time, they stop feeling like coping strategies.

They become our survival personality.

We become so good at surviving that, after a while, we forget we're surviving at all. 

We simply think

"This is just who I am."

The difficulty comes when the strategies that once protected us begin costing us our relationships.

Our health.

Our peace of mind.

Or our sense of who we really are.

Our ability to let ourselves be fully known.

Because surviving isn't the same as living.

And eventually, many of us reach a point where what once kept us safe starts keeping us stuck.

Maybe There Was Never Anything Wrong With You

I don't think the child we were before shame ever really disappears.

We simply get better at protecting them.

Sometimes by becoming the person who never needs anyone.

Sometimes by becoming the person who keeps everybody happy.

Sometimes by making ourselves small.

Sometimes by making ourselves impossible to hurt.

Sometimes by disappearing in to addiction.

Those strategies once made perfect sense.

They protected a child who was simply trying to belong.

But we're not children anymore.

And yet so many of us are still living as though we are.

Still expecting rejection.

Still expecting criticism.

Still believing we have to earn love.

Still trying to protect the child who first learned there was something wrong with them.

Therapy isn't about getting rid of that child.

It's about becoming the adult they always needed.

The adult who can say,

You don't have to hide anymore.

You don't have to earn your place.

You were never too much.

There was never anything wrong with you.

You are enough.

That doesn't happen overnight.

Shame rarely disappears because we understand it intellectually.

It changes because we're met differently.

It begins to loosen its grip when we experience something different.

When we discover that someone can know us, really know us...

...and we aren't rejected.

Because healing isn't about becoming somebody new.

It's about finally giving that child what they should have received all along.

Maybe your survival personality isn't all of who you are.

Maybe it's simply the person you had to become.

And maybe, underneath all of that...

There was never anything wrong with you in the first place.