On Shame

I do not recall the last day I woke slowly. Lately, I jerk awake embarrassed by something I said the previous day, or even weeks ago. I have almost always lived in  fear of disappointing, boring, hurting or offending others. This is difficult for me. I am  a very opinionated person, and my sense of humor does, at times, have a sharp edge. My loved ones know that about me, and accept it. I, however, struggle daily to accept it about myself. I have had full-fledged panic-attacks over jokes or comments I  made. I have done a lot of apologizing, a lot of lying, and I have even broken my bank, terrified that people will get sick of me and simply exit my life.  I have spent many years denying that this had anything to with my physical challenges. I thought that this was a totally unrelated disability which I just happened  to be unlucky enough to be born with as well. That is fallacious.  The truth is, there is a constant tape playing in my head telling me that my friends and family are doing favors for me by dealing with every issue my disability presents. Because I believe that I am indebted to them in some way, I also believe that I have no right to express myself in ways they may dislike.  The scarier aspect is that for a long time, I believed that who were ashamed to be seen with me, or irritated by my slow movement, had good reason for the feelings. That I wasn't allowed to be hurt by their bigotry, because it was natural… Who would not be humiliated by me? I was.  In the last year, I have made great efforts to learn to ignore the aforementioned psychological tape.  My life has improved drastically. There are days, weeks, and months, though in which I constantly have to make the choice to rise above those thoughts.    

I am blogging about this because I assume I am not the only person with this problem. I want people to know that no matter how hard you work to silence  that lying little bastard in the dark corner of your mind, sometimes, you are going to wake up to his irreverent screaming. This is not a permit to engage in the behavior that you did back when he controlled your life. It is not a pass to act self-destructive, or ashamed. The dear people who proved him wrong over and over again by sticking with us deserve better than that. I’m better than that. You’re better than that.