Shame

According to AI:

“Shame is an emotion that arises when a person feels bad about themselves — for example, when they see themselves as inferior, incompetent, or incapable. It can be a response to self-regulation and emotional processing.”

My mom’s mother is named Guadalupe and, of course, she’s a Catholic. In my family, December 12th has always meant celebration. I think it was 2003, and the annual gathering for my grandma’s saint day came around. That day, my girl cousins and I had the brilliant idea of creating a dance to a song called  “Amor Primero” by the mythic 90’s mexican band “Timbiriche” and performing it in front of the whole family.
(Yes, apparently it’s a universal experience for girl cousins to do this. Idk why, but we all do it.)

We spent hours and hours rehearsing the dance until it was perfect. But when the time came to perform, I completely froze. I remember begging them to postpone it. I said we needed more practice, even though we didn’t. I mean we were like 6 and there  was no competition, no stakes. It was just me making excuses because I felt paralyzed. Until I couldn’t delay it any longer.

There we were, in the living room, in front of all the adults —some of them clearly annoyed that three six-year-old girls were interrupting their party to dance—. When the music started, I froze. I told my cousins I couldn’t do it and let them go on without me. I didn’t know what else to do.

I honestly don’t remember if they were mad at me, but I do remember the way my uncles mocked me, calling me dramatic. I just turned bright red and felt like crying because I felt ridiculous.

Looking back now, I realize how stupid it was that no one stopped to ask why a six-year-old was so anxious about dancing in front of her family.

And, that, my friends, that was the moment I met shame.
Whenever I hear or think about the word, that’s the memory that comes up first.

The real deal here is that, ever since that day, shame started showing up more and more often. I went from feeling ashamed of dancing in front of my family as a little kid, to being ashamed of my body, my hair, my voice.

I felt ashamed of saying I didn’t like something.
Ashamed of saying something hurt me.
Ashamed of asking for help.
And so many other things.

Shame became my silent companion. But it was so powerful, that before I knew it, it became the root of many insecurities.

For me, it took many years and many hours of therapy to understand that it wasn’t normal to have lived with shame for so long, since I was just a child.

If you, like me, have carried this feeling throughout your life, I truly hope you find a way to break the cycle. And that you can show the world who you really are, and everything you’re capable of.

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Thank you for reading.

See you soon.