Shame.

I almost don’t want to write anything. How many journals do I have with the same inscriptions – the same well-intentioned, poorly executed commitments. As if writing “I’m going to change” 3, 798 times (a rough estimate) will make it a reality. Part of me feels that it is absolutely useless to outline my hopes for this upcoming year. Why would it make a difference? What would make this attempt to free my heart from its self-binding chains be any different than all the years preceding this one?

I’ve spent a lot of my life spinning in a circle. I don’t remember a time when I could walk into a room and feel okay with my presence in it. That’s sort of problematic, though, isn’t it? Being that I can’t exactly walk into any space without myself being there. I can’t get rid of myself. Therein lies the problem. Some days it’s okay, and I feel at least neutral about myself. But when that self-hatred rears its ugly head, it can sometimes be days before I am able to think clearly again. I recently saw a YouTube short featuring a man named Rabbi Shais Taub where he expresses:

“What people don’t understand about addiction…is that people think that addiction has to do with drugs and alcohol and it has really very, very little to do with drugs and alcohol. First of all, there are other addictions. People become addicted to behaviors, or people, relationships. It doesn’t have to be chemical…secondly, and much more importantly, what people don’t get is that the drug that the person is using to numb themselves is not the problem, it’s the solution. I’ll say it again, the drug is not the problem, it is the solution. It’s a solution that destroys your life, but it’s a solution, nonetheless…the real issue of addiction is the underlying issue that the addict is attempting to address, through the self-numbing behavior of the drug of choice. And what is that underlying condition? Very, very, very simple. A deep discomfort with one’s own self. It’s like being allergic to one’s own self. Uncomfortable in your own skin. Terminally unique. Lonely in a crowded room. Always wanting to feel a part of; instead feeling a part from. And that is that gnawing feeling that the drug or the alcohol or the high risk behavior is being used to numb the person from – to distract them from them.”

This perfectly describes the addiction to my eating disorder behaviors (as well as my desire to maintain the identity it has given me). It’s like this ultimate distraction is also the ultimate self-destruction, anesthetic to the pain of my shame, and comfort in the absence of an embrace. I’m a Christian. So, this is obviously a major issue. I believe in God. I believe in Christ. I believe that Christ was sent to restore our relationship. Why is it that I know all of this but I still refuse to let go of the illusion of control? In Romans 7, Paul expresses,

“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate…So then it is no longer I that do it, but sin which dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin which dwells within me. (vv. 15-20, RSV)”

I keep trying to do things my way. This clearly isn’t working. What will it take for me to surrender myself fully? To allow my own ego to die? I’m not all that important – I know this. Examining my life experience thus far, I think I struggle so much with wanting to be seen and heard and known and understood because I have felt so invisible, unheard, ignored, and misunderstood for so long. I think my heart longs for someone to see me wholly; warts and all, as they say. But it’s hard to let yourself be seen when you struggle so much with the shame. I constantly worry that I won’t ever be enough to be wanted. I’ve let that fear dictate so much of my life for a long time. I’ve been hiding. I crouch behind alcohol. I’ve worn my eating disorder as a cloak. Without them I feel naked. If I’m not drinking when I’m with others, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to form my thoughts into words. I never know what to do with my hands. If I’m not hungry, I feel wrong. I feel soft and disgusting. If I eat in front of others, it’ll only confirm to them how gross I am. If I eat it’ll prove that I’m not as superior as I need to be in order to quiet my inferiority complex. I know that these things are not true. Logically I understand them. I just can’t seem to shake the habit. That’s the worst part. It’s the damn nostalgia every time. It’s just getting so old to be like this. Vulnerability is foreign to me. Letting on that I’m not okay is foreign to me. Acknowledging that I am a human being is hard. I struggle most with envy, pride, and vanity. I make excuses for myself. I don’t know how to mix gentle reprimands with self-discipline.

How do I deal with my shame? How do I come to terms with my self? I think it’s one of those situations where the poison (my fears) are the anecdote. I have to step out of the shadows. I have to confront myself by allowing myself to be seen – by being all that I am and acknowledging all that I’m not.

This past Sunday at church, the priest spoke about communion with one another (fellowship) as well as participating in literal communion in the Eucharist. I thought to myself, I’ve been praying to become who I am meant to be, right? What if this is what I need to do to start the reaction in my heart; commune. It’s the one thing I truly never do. I go to confession and then never partake of communion. Always leave before coffee hour. Is this how the devil is screwing with me? The whispers of unworthiness to approach the chalice? The fleeing after service? The constant flogging through the rumination of all the ways I don’t measure up? It is relationship to one another that truly defines our existence and I’ve been isolating. It makes sense when you don’t want to exist – or at least are embarrassed of your existence. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad if I let myself participate…not be a terminally unique, lonely in a crowded room, self-conscious person.

This is my resolution.