B"H
Three weeks ago, we had winter in Texas. It lasted for just a few days, but it was notable because we not only lost power and water, but also had freezing temperatures for several days. Managing without power and water is a hazard of living in hurricane country. But usually the temperatures are more livable.
The loss of power seemed to drain me of power as well. My routines, from showering to opening the fridge, were gone. Our diets were gone -- we were eating dry food from the shelves only. Work was gone, because no power means no access to what you were writing. Most communication was gone, as we were conserving cell phone power in case of emergency.
As we timed logs on the fire and estimated how many we could afford to share with other families, I gazed with trepidation at the reality of suburban survival without power and water. It was chilling. I mean, I was already chilly, so maybe I overestimate. But my sense of being powerful and capable took a hard hit.
(Also, we solved the firewood rationing issue. Rich braved the icy roads in his four wheel drive truck and bought several loads of wood to distribute to those who needed it. Rich does not lose his sense of power so readily. As long as he has a way to help someone, he feels capable of pursuing his G-d-given mission.)
For the next two weeks, long after the power and water came back, I struggled. I coulda woulda done much better in a rural or wilderness survival situation. But in a nice little neighborhood that lacks good supplies of branches, dry leaves, rocks, and stream water, I was stymied. There is a great gap in my ability to survive, and help others survive. We were okay this time, thank G-d. Yet I was filled with guilt that echoed through my skull until I was good and depressed.
The thought of moving forward with my writing left me baffled. I couldn't imagine having enough focus to proceed. Just journaling? Which helps me get out of depression? That would involve looking inward, into the mess. I spent some time looking at the blank page, but couldn't muster the gumption to articulate anything that was happening. Take a walk? I can make myself take it, but I don't have to inhale or enjoy it very much.
The waves of dark grey depression and the resultant ebb of motivation kept coming. At one point I remember, knowing that anything I could do would chip away at the depression, approaching a drying rack of dishes. I looked at the dishes. I looked at my hands. I couldn't convince myself to move my hands. I had hit a wall of shame so large that I felt I couldn't bear to make a mark on the world, not even by putting away dishes.
Brene Brown, a researcher here in Houston, works with shame. She identified four steps that lead to greater "shame resilience." As in, we may not get rid of our shame entirely, but we can bounce back faster. Oh boy, do I want to bounce back faster.
1.) Recognize shame and the ways that you personally tend to feel ashamed
2.) Recognize the circumstances that triggered your feeling of shame this time
3.) Tell your shame stories to others, and give and receive empathy
4.) Take apart your reasons for feeling ashamed and reevaluate them
So now I see, in my case, that:
1.) My shame felt like being embarrassed to do anything. I believed I should feel ashamed for being unprepared to take care of my people.
2.) The shame was triggered by not knowing how to respond to a weather emergency, combined with the loss of my usual self-esteem reinforcement routines.
3.) I'm telling the story now. And finally,
4.) I need to take a long look at the sense of desperation I have around protecting people under my care. It probably comes from my desire as a kid to protect my little sister, but being unable to shield her from our parents' divorce and subsequent nuttiness. It's not wrong to want to protect people, of course. But to feel desperately bad about oneself for things beyond one's control -- that may be a bit much.
And now, let's open up the shame party. Consider trying out the exercise above for yourself. Feel free to share with me, or with a friendly, trustworthy person in your life. I want to get better at ending shame, because I don't have three weeks to spare for shame-based depression. Who's in?
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