Public Shaming While Getting a Pedicure

I’m looking at my nails as I type this blog—overgrown cuticles, a few jagged edges, little chips of polish on a few nails. Un-filed, overgrown, unkempt. I really should go get a manicure but the last experience I had at the place that I go to get my nails done has me a bit skittish to go back. 

The last time I went to get my nails done was to get a pedicure about  2 1/2 months ago. It was the middle of winter and given how cold natured I am, my feet don’t see the light of day unless I am showering or switching out my pair of socks before I put  my slippers back on. No one sees my feet—not even me. But on that day I just wanted to get a pedicure—well truth be told, I really wanted the leg and foot massage and a chance to sit in one of those massage chairs for an hour—the polish was just the way to get there. 

So I went to the place about a mile from my house; and let me remind you, I went in fully knowing that the benefits of my pedicure three months prior had definitely worn off! The woman doing my pedicure asked me which type of pedicure I would like that day and I chose the basic package. She tried for a minute to upsell me but I stuck to my guns, even though I did promise her that the next time I came in I would go for the next level up. As she began her work on my feet she kept looking at me to tell me what terrible feet I had, how she couldn’t believe I had let them get so bad and how I really needed to take care of them and of course how buying the most expensive pedicure package would take care of it! Just 15 minutes prior I had been confident that my pasty white feet were simply a result of the previous 3 months of winter and all of the sudden I started to feel self conscious. 

As she continued on with each step of the pedicure process she seemed to make it painfully obvious to me that my feet needed a lot of work done. About half way through the pedicure she asked if I wanted a manicure. I mumbled something about not having time that day as she began telling me the same things about my hands as she did my feet. I think I literally started sweating in the chair! My hour of relaxation was quickly turning into an hour of being shamed. I calmly repeated that the basic pedicure was all I wanted for that day and after a few more attempts, she relinquished and continued working on my feet. Peace, at last. 

I mean, ya would have thought I was sporting something like this!

After getting the hot towels—my favorite part of the pedicure—she sat back down in her chair and told me that I really needed to wax my upper lip. I’ll admit, I was fully aware of that. I wasn’t growing a mustache or anything but I knew I was about due, but I also have a wax pot at home so I was going to do it myself. Fearing the further shame that I might incur if I declined this offer as well, I agreed to let her wax my upper lip. As she started the lip waxing process she told me I could also benefit from having my eyebrows done. By this point I was over the whole process and told her, firmly, “NO”. I mean seriously people, I have super thin and super light eye brows…I even color them once a month so that they match my dark hair and even when they are ‘overgrown’ I’m no Freida! 

I quickly paid for my services (and likely gave way too large of a tip for the badgering I received!) and got out of there. As I trudged back to my car in those little styrofoam flip flops I caught myself crunching numbers to see how I might be able to swing a monthly mani/pedi in my budget—apparently I was in dire need. I pulled on the calculator in my phone and began to do the math when I realized how deeply this experience was effecting me. I do fully realize that this woman was simply doing her job—the more services she offered the more she got paid; this was a business transaction for her. But in ‘doing her job’ I left left the nail salon feeling terrible about myself and thinking about all of the things that I needed to prioritize in my physical appearance to be more appealing to the public. I admit, I even thought that perhaps paying more attention to the details might earn me a few dates with respectable guys!

The beauty industry is a multi-billion dollar industry. Every day we are bombarded by messages, commercials and even our friends, family and co-workers that all seem to have something that we don’t—their hair, their outfit, those arms, that pair of boots, that jewelry, that color of nail polish. Advertisers do their jobs by getting us to believe that if we have whatever product it is that they are selling we will be the pinnacle of whatever lifestyle goal we are trying to achieve.

I would even venture to say that we know this to an extent. We know that washing our hair with Herbal Essence’s shampoo and conditioner will not draw men to us like a Siren and yet we see those commercials and there is a little voice in our head that wonders “well…maybe…” And so we continue our trek to add value to ourselves through the mediums sold to us by commercials, in magazines and quirky women at the nail salon. 

I mean really, is having a monthly mani/pedi really going to make me a better therapist? Is it going to improve my writing skills? Is it going to make me a more compassionate friend or help me seek after social justice in a more innovative way? Is this going to make me a better lover, more honest or more authentic? Likely not. And yet I get caught up believing that these external markers of beauty (which are culturally induced and defined—and subjective) are the things that are going to push me to the top and really give me the edge on my competitors.

I’m not suggesting that we let ourselves go or even that looking nice, taking pride in how one looks or having nice, expensive or unique things is a bad thing. Getting our nails done, our hair colored or getting our legs waxed is perfectly fine. But these are not the things that are going to add to our value as an individual.  

I would imagine that when we let these external, subjective markers of beauty be the definers of who we are as a person, we will have many more sweaty moments on the massage chair. Truth be told, I’m probably going to get a pedicure this weekend—spring is right around the corner and with sandal season upon us, my gnarly feet need a little bit of attention. I think this time though I might bring some music and ear buds with me so that I don’t get caught up in pondering the manicurists words and find myself seriously considering that the answer to all life’s problems would be solved through the color of my toenails.

The {Courageous} Art of Being Vulnerable

Kaitlyn, Becca & Whitney

“Intense” is the only word I can use to describe this last episode of the Bachelor. We are down to three girls which, in the world of the Bachelor, is known infamously as the time when the Fantasy Suite dates occur. For those non-versed in Bachelor language, Fantasy Suites are the dates consisting of the Bachelor and each of his remaining 3 girls getting to have an overnight date--with no cameras--to talk, get to know each other more and do…whatever they want…  And because of the appeal of no cameras with them for the first time on their journey, it’s usually unlikely that anyone declines this date—regardless of any preconceived notions that the TV viewing audiences have! 

Often times the themes surrounding this episode is of opening up, sharing where you are really at with your feelings and how you see the future with that person. It’s often filled with awkward conversations as difficult questions are asked or unexpected answers are given. Some of the contestants are highly articulate while others painfully struggle to complete sentences. I mean really, it’s almost difficult to watch! 

So let me introduce Kaitlyn, one of Prince Farming’s final three girls. She made quite the entrance at the beginning of the season, identifying herself as the girl who wasn’t afraid to say or laugh at dirty jokes, but also showed herself to be very down to earth, well spoken, intuitive and un-dramatic. I admit, it took a minute for her to grow on me, but as the season wore on it became quite apparent that her, perhaps vulgar, edge acted more as a layer of protection for her as she, admittedly, did not want her heart to be broken. There have been moments in the last few weeks where she has recognized this guard she keeps up and her desire to be softer and even credits our Bachelor with being able to tap into that side of her. And while she acknowledges her fear of loss, she desperately wants to let that guard down. 

Prior to the invitation to go to the Fantasy Suite she and Chris (the Bachelor) are discussing this very concept—letting your guard down. Kaitlyn states something so powerful: “I’ve always thought that [being vulnerable] was a negative thing, but it’s not. It’s almost like I am at my best self when I am vulnerable because I can just open up with how I am feeling and talk about it and accept it.” My little therapist self did a little cheer from my couch as her words offer so much insight into the risk of a relationship and the empowerment of vulnerability. 

Brene Brown, in her book, “Daring Greatly”, defines vulnerability as: capable of being wounded and open to attack or damage. At first glance that sounds absolutely terrifying, right? Who would willingly put themselves in a situation in which they can be hurt, wounded, taken advantage of or broken? It seems absurd that anyone would seek to be vulnerable without being able to guarantee their own safety (physically, emotionally, spiritually, socially, mentally, etc.) And when we factor into that our own life experiences, our families, our relationships, our traumas and our hardships, the thought of jumping into a situation in which vulnerability is required—where being wounded is a legitimate possibility—is usually the opposite of what we are interested in doing. 

So, we build walls. We create defense mechanisms. We numb things out. We use humor, food, sex, surface level conversations, avoidance, alcohol, TV, shopping, pills, other people, lying, sarcasm, and anger outbursts to our benefit and focus on these things rather than dare letting someone hurt us again. We become an impenetrable force so that no one can hurt us like they once did. Anytime someone tries to get close to us, we can pull from our bag of tricks to keep them from getting too close—close enough to hurt us. 

And for a while, this feels really good. It feels nice to not have to worry about being hurt, used, manipulated, deceived, played or heartbroken. It feels nice to feel like you can breathe and that you are now in control of your situation.

But then something odd happens. After we have securely built our walls, ensuring that no one can touch us, ensuring that we are safe, ensuring that we are the opposite of vulnerable, we realize that we are alone. I mean alone, alone. Isolated. We have worked so hard at not allowing ourselves to get hurt that we have simultaneously kept out any semblance of meaningful relationship. We are not known to anyone else in a deep and intimate way; we are empty. We are alone. 

So, while we are not being hurt by others, we are instead hurting ourselves. In the isolation we have created as a shield of protection we now find bitterness, resentment, self-pity, toxic shame, depression, lust, pride, anxiety and apathy. The more we sit in these things the more isolated we feel which only fuels each of these things even more. I like to call it the yuck cycle. And the thing is, it’s not coming from people hurting us repeatedly, it’s not coming from our relationships; it’s coming from us—from our desires to keep ourselves safe. From our desire to be invulnerable. 

I come from a family that discourages emotional expression. In fact, in my experience, emotional expression has come under harsh critique, judgement and punishment at times. Part of my own process of healing has been understanding what I feel and allowing myself to feel those things and trust the process. A while back my family went through the death of a loved one and the emotional pain was excruciating. Knowing that I would be entering into a situation that was emotionally unsafe, I made a conscious decision to numb out all emotion and bury it until I returned to the safety of my own home. For a week I actively shoved these emotions and experiences down until I thought I might burst. Never had I felt so alone, never had I felt so horrible about myself, never had I not cared as much—in fact because I was so determined to keep this all in, to not feel the pain for fear of being hurt even more, my body literally manifested the pain. In less than 24 hours of arriving in my hometown I gained nearly 10 pounds—it was the only place that my body could find relief in expressing that emotion!  I felt raw and numb all at the same time and had to isolate myself in my own little world in order to remain un-wounded. 

I think many of us have stories like these. I don’t think that any of us are immune from this process; I would venture to say that all of us either have been, will be or are in a place where the thought of being vulnerable is terrifying and the walls of protection seem so much more appealing. It’s our human nature to want to protect ourselves from being hurt and wounded. And yet, as I reflect on my own experiences, both in the recent and distant past, I see that my iron-clad pursuit of keeping myself safe is what ends up hurting me more. 

I think it feels natural to, as Kaitlyn said, view being vulnerable as negative—even as scary. But when we open ourselves to being vulnerable—to risking, even when there is the possibility of getting hurt—we also open ourselves up to relationship, to life, to freedom, to love, to joy and to intimacy. And isn’t this what a relationship (romantic or otherwise) is all about? Being vulnerable does not give us guarantees, it does not give us a life-long pass from hurt and pain but it can give us so much more. When we can stand in front of another free from judgement, scrutiny, conditions, harshness and negativity I think we truly do open ourself up to the possibility of being our best self.

    

The Masks We Wear - Part 3

It’s funny how life seems to hand us situations when we least expect it, in order to see if we are gonna put our money where our mouth is! I have been privy to several situations in the recent past where I have had to exercise my self-awareness and deciphering how easily it is to slip on a mask in an effort to protect myself, find peace or at the very least, some instant gratification in the midst of confusion. And as life happens and I remain committed to being aware of what is going on in and around me, I also become more aware of different masks that are ready for use at a moment’s notice.  

For me, it’s been good to recognize, however, that the masks that we wear (even the ones that feel so closely tied to our actual identity) are there as a protective factor. They were designed, refined and well-worn in order to combat the brutal realities of what it’s like to live life in relationship with others. If it were a perfect world these masks wouldn’t exist…nor would this blog; but in spite of this, I believe it’s actually a gift to be able to understand things about ourselves so that we have a shot at being a healthy individual who can engage in healthy relationships. 

So, this week we’ll introduce a couple more masks: The Mask of Apathy and The Sabotager. 

The Mask of Apathy

I have to admit, this mask is a new one for me! While I believe it has been present for a while, it is only as of late that this mask seems to be the predominant feature in my life. Apathy, in the dictionary, is defined as the absence of emotion, passion or excitement. And when it comes to even thinking about going on another first date or starting the entire relationship process all over again, this is the mask that surges to the front. After another ending to a (short) relationship a month ago (props to the guy for formally breaking up with me…progress is being made!), the thought of going out with anyone seemed like the most unappealing thing in the world. Sure, there is the normal “grieving period” after a relationship, but this was different. It wasn’t that I was heartbroken over the relationship being over (and I implemented a fair share of my own awareness to ensure I was not wearing that Victim Mask!), it was simply that I had no emotion towards dating at all, even if it was a great guy that I might go on a date with. I noticed this mask really start to solidify when I started talking with and getting to know another guy, one who seemed perfectly good and someone I should be interested in getting to know. As his excitement grew steadily in the days leading up to our first date, I couldn’t seem to muster up even fake excitement to respond back to his incredibly sweet text messages and phone conversations. Poor guy! Here he was, trying to get to know me, and the 40 guys before him had blazed a trail that was making it difficult for him to even walk!

If a mask is supposed to protect us, then there must be a reason for the Mask of Apathy to as well. In my experiential assessment, it seems that the Mask of Apathy is worn due to exhaustion and fear. Exhaustion because dating is just that. It just simply isn’t fun going on one more first date, always having to put your best foot forward, going through the “getting-to-know-you” phase (which we HOPE leads to truly being known, but seldom seems to!) It gets old being excited, telling friend and gushing about details, only to have to go back to these same people with, yet another, break up story. It’s exhausting to continue to put yourself out there one more time while trying to maintain any ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe, the next first date could be the last first date. 

And I admit, I am apathetic because I am fearful. As exhausting as it is to play this relationship game, it’s slightly terrifying. The hamster wheel of thoughts is continually running, wondering how much to say, wondering what he is thinking, wondering what the line is between protecting yourself and your emotions versus being cold and rigid. It’s scary to open yourself up to trusting someone with your story. Dating is a risk of the highest order. For me, at the beginning of this dating journey, there was an amount of excitement and intrigue in sharing myself and my story with someone. I was hopeful in sharing things about myself that it would offer points of connection and commitment. But at some point the intrigue wore off into, yes, apathy. It was easier to emotionlessly engage in conversations, go through the motions and turn my heart (and mind) off to an extent just so that if it didn’t work out, it would hurt just a little bit less. 

It’s truly a fine line between using boundaries and protecting yourself emotionally versus shutting off your emotions and becoming apathetic. I don’t pretend to be an expert on this, and like so many of the other masks that we have talked about, simply admitting it and being honest that it exists somehow seems to help. To recognize my apathy means that I cannot live in denial about it. It means that I have to acknowledge where I have been hurt and honestly reflect on what I feel comfortable with “bringing to the table” as I continue to date. I do see that apathy can protect me (it forces my hand at being slow about relationships rather than diving in too fast), but I see that it can also set me up for a different kind of disappointment—and I am the only one responsible for that. 

Recognizing this mask also helps to keep me in check realistically and gives me permission to set and stick to boundaries and still allow myself to be hopeful, even when life and relationships seem to be a dismay. 

And while apathy protects me from having to feel some of those negative emotions like confusion, anger, resentment, frustration or irritation, it also then hinders me from being able to experience joy, gratitude, peace and happiness. The recognition of this mask, then, provides me with an opportunity to experience the spectrum of emotions in order for life to be truly full and satisfying.

The Sabotager

This mask…well, this mask I really dislike. It’s great at it’s job. It is subtle and effective and can go unrecognized forever if we let it. The sabotager.  We have all heard of people who sabotage themselves when good things are about to happen. The person who creates unnecessary drama when facing the possibility of commitment. The person who, right before a job interview with a huge promotion, gets strung out on substances so they are not able to make the interview. It’s more common than we think, and it’s humbling to recognize where The Sabotager has shown up in my life. 

To be fair, if we wear the Sabotager Mask, it is because life has handed us circumstances (both provoked and unprovoked) that have made it difficult to accept good things because we fear those things being taken away from us.  It’s truly humbling to admit that prior to the not so distant past, I sabotaged my relationships prior to them even beginning. At some point in my growing up years I began to operate out of the mindset that I was too much to handle (as a person) and it was my job to sacrifice myself for the needs of others (this was reinforced significantly by my stout religious upbringing). And while I do understand that life, nor relationships, need not be entirely about me, I came to believe that to have needs, wants and desires was selfish (therefore creating the belief that I was too much to handle) and would need to give to others at the expense of myself, entirely. You can imagine the creatures that flocked to me. Unhealthy, emotionally unavailable, abusive, addicts, uncommitted, legalistic, uncaring, rude, over-spiritualizing…I was a prime candidate for these types of men. 

[Side note: because I realize that I am the common denominator in those relationships, it is important, as always, that I understand that I should have sought help, restoration, healing and health. I had choices to get into and stay in these relationships, continue dating men who fit those descriptions as well as to not value myself.]

My Sabotager Mask was always on. I truly believed I did not deserve mutuality, respect, compassion, care and equality. As a result I sabotaged those relationships, and really, myself, before they even began. Had I recognized the underlying issues and addressed my fear, cognitive distortions and false belief system, I cannot help but believe that my Sabotager Mask wouldn’t have been present because it would have had no need. In later years of life, after recognizing these patterns in myself (but still not dealing with them), the Sabotager would present itself as projection, panic, clinginess, desperation and intensity. Perhaps I was not dating the same type of emotionally unavailable man, but my beliefs about myself had not changed so the Sabotager simply changed it’s strategies of external appearance. 

If the Sabotager Mask is present in order to protect from getting hurt, or to uphold belief systems (albeit, false belief systems), then there is an amount of gratitude to be paid as it has done it’s job well. The Sabotager recognizes that dealing with whats going on underneath seems more painful than repeating the cycle (which is denial at it’s core) and does what it needs to do to keep us in familiar territory. The Sabotager recognizes that our own dysfunction is somehow functional and works hard to maintain a sense of equilibrium (or “status quo”).

If I’m being honest, the Sabotager Mask is probably the one that requires the most amount of external support, guidance, time and diligence to take off. It’s vivid presence in your life is so woven into the fabric of who you are on every level that, in many ways, a new foundation is required. There is hope though. While painful to deal with, the reward in looking at those internal and external messages, false beliefs, experiences, relationships and distortions is healthy relationship (of all kinds). It is not a light commitment to make, but rather a daily commitment to wholehearted living with motivation to get yourself back no matter what. 

And, I have to admit, there is an amount of celebration that happens internally every time you recognize how you normally would have responded to a situation (in the past) versus how you want to and actually do presently respond. 

Party on…

The Masks We Wear - Part 2

In the last blog I posted, I talked about the different masks that we wear as those of us who are over 30, single and in the dating world. The Mask of Cynicism was our first stop and as I thought about the other masks that I have worn in the years of my singleness, it is becoming even more evident to me that the Cynic Mask has seemingly become my actual face, with other masks being placed over top. So my new hypothesis is that none of these masks that we will talk about today (or in future blog posts) can exist without the Cynic playing it’s important role. We’ll talk about two different masks in this blog: The Victim Mask and the Mask of Shame. (P.S. This is a long one…but I promise, it’s worth the read!)

“It’s not me, it’s you” —The Victim

I’ve been told my entire life, by many (even guys that I have dated!), that I am a “great girl who deserves a great guy”. I’ve been told to keep my standards high, to not lower my expectations. I’ve been told, by well meaning friends and family, that if the guy disappeared, walked away or wasn’t interested, it was truly his loss. And while this seemed to pacify the situation a bit, and truly add some perspective, it also created a nice way of coping with being single: I could blame (even subconsciously) every break up, every failed relationship, every mistake on him since I was such a great girl and he still walked away.

Placing blame on the other person for the demise of the relationship has become a very natural thing to do. As women, when it comes to relationships, we are expert analyzers with selective vision. After the break up, we go into research-mode, dissecting every move he made, everything he said; every “what if” and possibility is brought to the table and we create a myriad of hypothetical reasons for his leaving. It’s during this search that we tell ourselves we are just looking for closure so then we can truly move on. Interestingly enough all of this reasoning has to do with finding an explanation to him and his actions; rarely do we take into account our own part in it. We see ourselves, usually, as the heroic girlfriend with unending patience and commitment who was ready to fight for the relationship in order to see if it would stand the test of time…it was him that wasn’t willing to commit, it was him who couldn’t handle communicating like an adult, it was him who would’t share his thoughts, emotions and feelings (that you obviously had to pull out of him).  We were there, waiting for him, and then he walked away. This happening to me again was just “proof” that I was too good for him, that I was way ahead of him and if he couldn’t see what he was going to miss by giving me up, then it was truly his (ignorant) loss. And I may have told myself a time or too that he would come back after he realized what he gave up.  

A sweet friend of mine (who got married much later than the cultural norm, and therefore understands what it’s like to be a bit older and single) and I were talking about the string of guys over the last couple years that I had the “pleasure” of going on dates with.  For varying reasons the one-date-wonders and relationships didn’t work, and, as mentioned previously, six of them have now disappeared from my life entirely with no warning, reason or explanation. As the conversation wore on, she humbly and ever so sweetly said “ya know, you’re a great girl and you’ve got your stuff together; so why is it that these guys keep leaving you? Is there a chance, even a slight one, that YOU’RE part of the reason?” Because I respect her a ton and we have an awesome friendship, I could hear these words and know that they were coming from a place of wanting the best for me. And the fact of the matter is, she was right…I am the common denominator in all of my failed relationships. 

[Side Note: Regardless of my own incorrect handling of the relationship (I am the first to say that I made mistakes, was too intense, went too fast, etc.), simply disappearing on someone with no explanation is a pretty shitty thing to do. Man or woman, if you’re gonna break up with someone, at least give that person the respect of having an ending conversation; there is much respect in being an adult!]

Now, I am all for equal responsibility in relationships. I don’t feel the need to take responsibility for guys that manipulated me into believing they wanted a relationship when really they just wanted sex. Nor do I need to take responsibility for a guy’s life stage, commitment ability (or lack-thereof)…those things are on him. And how he deals with them (appropriately or inappropriately) are on him too. 

But, if after every failed relationship (regardless of the reason for failure or the method of exit), my analytical research does not also reveal where I need to do some tweaking, then, to put it bluntly, I am living in denial. If you were to look up denial in the dictionary, there are about 8 different definitions that pop up. The last definition of denial is something to the effect of: “…a defense mechanism we use in order to keep us from seeing reality, for if we did see reality as it truly was, it would seem consciously intolerable.” Ouch. When put like that, it means that every time he walked out and I blamed it on him and analyzed his every move before the escape, there is the potential that the focus on him acts as a blinder to seeing that perhaps I might have had something to do with it. 

Failure to look at your own part in any relationship (or situation) keeps reality hidden and ultimately can lead to wearing the Victim Mask.  

Which leads to that question of “how do I take the mask off?” 

Well first of all, you’ve gotten through the hardest part! If you notice that you are wearing the Victim Mask you are no longer living in total denial. You can’t change anything that you don’t know you need to change, so congratulations! And really, the next step is in that definition of denial from above:

Be accurate and honest; take responsibility.

Again, I need to clarify that it’s not our job to take responsibility for other people’s actions that were harming to us…that’s where the accuracy part comes in. Look at the relationship and be accurate about where the responsibility lies. Be honest about how the relationship went, the roles, the responses, the communication, the emotions, the conflict, the hurt. Assign responsibility to the appropriate party, including yourself. When we choose honesty, we are no longer able to stand ignorantly by and continue placing blame on unwarranted parties without also looking at ourselves and what needs to be refined in us to make us a healthier individual.  

Not saying this is easy, but doesn’t it seem like someone who holds themselves to this standard might attract someone of the same standards? Food for thought…

Mask of Shame -“I’m not ____________ enough”

I admit, this mask could take up an entire blog, and I am confident that shame will be expounded on in further posts as shame is universal. I don’t care what your gender, ethnicity, age, relationship status, career or house looks like, we all deal with shame on a daily basis.

As I have continued to live my days, more single than not, shame takes on all sorts of different forms and faces. Shame seems to be a hot topic in our culture now. Author and researcher Brene Brown has brought this topic to the forefront of people’s minds…not because it has just recently become an epidemic, but because for too many years it has remained locked up inside each one of us, festering and growing bigger; taking over our lives and relationships and in many ways, debilitating us. 

Wearing the Mask of Shame is not an overt or highly external mask. While there have been times where I have begged others for answers to the question of “why does this keep happening to me?!?!?”, this conversation usually happens in my mind.  In bewilderment I ask bitter questions that only reinforce the desire for relationship and the empty space in my life. It’s easy here for the Cynic Mask to swoop in (again, as a defense mechanism) to try and help soothe the situation, but it usually ends up sounding a lot like shame. Unfortunately, it seems like the answers to these questions are all to commonly phrases like “…it’s because I’m not good enough”, “…because I’m not pretty enough”, “…because I’m not ___________ enough”. And we all know what it feels like to not feel ____________ enough: absolutely devastating. It’s a yucky place to be and while we surely want to get out of that pit, it almost seems too daunting to even try. All of our insecurities rise to the surface and we find ourselves sinking deeper into the muck. 

Being single, or single again, in your 30’s and beyond adds an entirely different dynamic to this mask. For me personally, as much as I have been able to settle in to who I am and, in most moments, genuinely like it, reality hits quickly when I gain 5 pounds by just looking at a cupcake, when I notice a few more gray hairs, when I spend weekend evenings alone with my boyfriend Boda (as in Boda Box…of wine…) or even when I wonder why I find it so important to make my house look nice and clean for just me. Because in this reality, that little gremlin of shame creeps up and starts to paint my reality in an even more dismal light; it goes from simply noticing where I am at/what is going on to these people/places/things/events becoming the defining factor of who I am. 

Shame makes it personal and daunting. 

In some ways I have to wonder if shame is trying to act as a protector. I know in the moments when I feel not ____________ enough, I become hell bent on doing something about it. I figure that if I can do something about this message of shame, then perhaps I can alleviate the enormous pressure. So I figure out what all it is that is not good enough and go to work…trying to numb out that nagging voice of shame. Just writing that last sentence makes me exhausted—probably because that pace of life is exhausting and I know it all too well! But this striving keeps me running; it keeps me isolated, believing that I am the only one who feels like this and it turns me on myself—I become my own worst critic. 

So then, in the context of relationships, shame finds a doorway in to our soul whenever we are engaged with someone who is emotionally unavailable, distancing themselves, leaving us, breaking up with us, treating us disrespectfully, de-valuing us, cheating on us or just, plain uncommitted to us. Shame makes it about me, shame makes me question myself and then shame isolates me. “…What is wrong with me?” continually loops through my mind.

Part of the reason for this blog is to help me and to help you take off this mask of shame. If the job of shame is to isolate us, then this blog is to band us together and to speak and hear a message that you are not alone. I am not alone. I don’t know the unique details of your story, but I do understand hurt. I understand what it’s like to feel lonely, to be sad and to be scared. I know what it’s like to feel angry for whatever place of life you are at (because it’s not where you imagined you should be). I understand how terrible and devastating it is and feels to be cheated on, abandoned, rejected and lied to. While we are each beautifully unique we are also, equally, beautifully connected on a soul level—and this is the opposite of isolation. Empathy…that soul level familiar connection we have…kills shame. 

“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”  —Brene Brown