Internilized Shame

I read a post by Harriet S last night about internalized shame. I guess this kind of show my state of knowledge about addiction, or rather my lack thereof. I knew that addiction is about shame. Clarification, my head knew (and my heart probably still doesn't know as it ought) that addiction is related to shame, but I had not had it put so simply and clearly before. It was a great article.

Needless to say, I suffer from shame. As I talked to my wife last night, I realize I suffer from it a lot. Examples. If my car breaks down, I have a horrendous fear of asking for help, or even telling anybody about it (at least until I get it fixed). Close to two years ago, my dad and I rebuilt the engine on my aging commuter car. I was pretty proud of it, since I love the car. Well, the second day I drove it back to work, it broke down. I work 40 miles from home, out on the Navajo Reservation. Cell coverage is horrendous, but I was lucky to be able to get a call out. I let my wife know where I was and sat back to wait.

"Sat back" is quite literal. Not wanting anybody to see me, ashamed at my car breaking down, I laid the seat back so that passing cars would not see that somebody was still in the car on the side of the road.  Once back to civilization, I asked my dad for help. That evening, we got a trailer and rescued the car. In the end, I coolant line had not been secured correctly and had popped off. Nothing big. Just had to buy some more coolant. It illustrates a point though. I was ashamed to the point that I didn't want anybody to see, even if that meant waiting uncomfortably for 30 minutes. I didn't even want to get out to diagnose the problem, because somebody was sure to see me.

Another time, in High School, I got stuck in my parents' truck. We were about 5 miles from town and had to walk home along the highway. During that walk, lots of people drove past. Had I wanted, many of those cars would have offered us rides. I didn't. There was no way I was going to let others see my shame by accepting the ride. They would invariably ask what the problem was and I would then have to confess. It was much better to just walk for over an hour. Then as few people as possible would know about my mistake. The shame would be less.

Well, it is sad, but empowering, to know that this is what keeps me in my addiction. I do know that people are inherently good and that their mistakes are just that: mistakes. I even know, to one extent or another, that I am the same way, but do other people know that? If I admit to my mistakes, will they think I am a bad person? I am pretty sure they will. I will be judged, and condemned, in their eyes. Or, they will at least see me as less. I don't think I can handle that.

So, instead, I do not admit my mistakes, at least not until after I have fixed or overcome them. You may notice that the stories I shared are older, and that the problem has been fixed. That makes them easier to share. When I view pornography, I feel the same way. If I just let them fade into the past, put some distance between us, they will be easier to share. Maybe, by then, it will be something I have overcome, which is much easier to share. You know, trials overcome are a point of strength. In that way, I justify my lying to myself, to my wife, to my God.

Yesterday, Sunday afternoon, I was loading some dishes into the dish washer. Two of them were Tupperware's I had used for my lunches the previous week, so they had been sitting in the sink for a couple of days. When I popped the lid, the smell was horrendous. I immediately thought of my addiction and the lying. Okay, I immediately thought of how disgusting the smell was, but that led to thinking about lying. I think, that somehow time will make the truth smell better, but it doesn't. Boy does it make it stink!

~Sean~