Memories have been flooding me, memories of times that evoke shame , some rejection, some extremely complex. As the memories come, one after another, gossamer ties to earlier childhood wounding are visible, the connects made. The pain is just bearable. I hold it, process it with with words from Zinn's Heartscape, transforming shame by being wrapped in the experience of loving kindness.
One memory that reflects back to specific training by my father to not ask for what I needed, to wait for it to be given, a kind of helplessness. The pain of abandonment, wrapped in the phrase, "I love you." There is so much more to process. I am weary of it but not afraid and as days tick by I become more and more willing to face these memories, to process the shame and resulting anxiety.
The big grouping of shame still to address, maybe the biggest is "not good enough." Anything I did was "not good enough." The more I tried to do the more I opened myself up to the condemnation, shame. I would start something, a project that I loved, gardening, needlework, cooking and when I ran into an obstacle, rather than helping me learn to resolve it and find a way to finish, I would be belittled and made fun of, so I would quit but be scarred with humiliation and shame that took hold in the recesses of my mind. This process would repeat over and over again until I only knew failure. The very point of having an idea for a project starts the process of shame and humiliation and paralysis.
It is all so clear now. Memory by memory I am processing and unbundling. Bit by bit, I am taking tiny steps to set a " project" and complete it. Feel the shame descend like a wave starting at the top of my head and descending. Process it, be aware of it, be present to it, until it passes, until it is relieved. And as memories appear repeat the healing process.
I can tell that the daily intensity is decreasing, incrementally. Shame and anxiety still dominate me. I am still paralyzed but it is receding, bit by bit.
