Shame, I Thank You!

Shame you invaded my soul

Rearranged my path of existence

Twisted my cells daily

Until understanding joined us both

(C) JL Keez 2026

Deep within the soul an emotion had trapped my body. Yet to be understood, acknowledged or even known about, this emotion would take my life down a path where darkness would determine world perceptions, character developments, decision directions, and health determinants.

Born during an era where mental health was yet to be defined as a ‘thing’, signs of desperation were overlooked as traits of a girl somewhat timid and shy; a girl afraid of public comment and way too self conscious to be able to stand alone in a crowd and hold her own. Yet, as a one and two year old, her demeanour was spontaneity, creativity, laughter, and fun. Why did no one put two and two together and ask the obvious, “Why? Why the character change?”

Because no one knew this was required … simple as that!

***

On a sunny February Sunday a little girl turned two. Excited, and ready for church, she climbed onto the back seat of the family car next to her big brother. Her mother sat directly in front of her carrying her baby sister. Her father drove …

Approaching the internal gate of the farm where she lived, a voice from within gave permission for her to speak a truth concealed. Orchestrating words only a two year old could, each had barely left her lips when with lightening speed her father turned, hit her and ordered her to remain at home that day.

Dutifully, she climbed down from her seat, tears streaming. Ordered to open and close the gate once the car was through, her tears parted enough to see the car disappear over the hill. Without explanation, without support, her little frame withered. In that defining moment trauma filled her cells – it was her fault, she would be blamed, she was indeed the one no one would like from that time forward.

No one rescued her; no one asked what that was all about; no one reframed her experience.

In time the car returned, but the damage was done. 

Standing in the lounge of the farm homestead this same little girl desperately wanted to be believed. However, like the Sunday in February, her words would be dismissed, her tears overlooked, and her father’s lies would bury themselves deep within her mind.

Defining moments such as these featured throughout her life – moments that intensified the emotional pains now guiding her life, deciding her life, underlying her life; each adding another layer of despair, of hopelessness, of withered existence.

As years passed, bullying in schoolyards cemented the truth carried, that no one will like you. As high academic results, sports day winnings, and netball trophies added to her life, the emptiness of loneliness transformed the internal world of her body, her mind, and down the path of anorexia nervosa she would suffer. Nine long years of deprivation, binging, hiding, depleting, and quiet resolution to be liked took its toll. Mental illnesses added their definitions in the form of anxiety and fear, chronic fatigue, debilitating migraines, depersonalisation, OCD, and eventually suicidal depression. Now at an age where life should be filled with fun, her life was filled with utter screaming from within. 

Entering rooms of scholarly therapists promising resolution and recovery, delivered no results. Alternative medicine approaches joined a long list of hopeful endeavours for the purpose of healing.  Disillusionment now accompanied despair. Life was a drudgery, an effort, an unrewarding existence. 

The heavy hand of emotions were taking their toll. Emotions fear filled, yet still to find a definitive definition of explanation, consumed.

Somehow this little girl masked her days to educate herself in pursuit of a teaching degree. Somehow she fooled the world, married, and birthed two children. 

Somehow she lived a duality only she knew existed. 

Exhausted daily, she moved between showing up as well, and withering away in the shadows when no one was around. By the time age 37 came around she was done and sought methods for ending this existence. Her two children saved her as they sat in frames on mantlepieces smiling in unison. Now a single mother navigating the mental struggles lived daily, she sought understanding once more, this time from a female psychologist recommended to her.

“Tell me your story” were words that saw tears fall, no, cascade down her face. Intuitively the tears told her that at last understanding would unfold.

Following a therapy known as Reality Therapy, underpinned by Choice Theory, the line of enquiry was different to any other modality undertaken. Encouraged to explore her life to date she found her mind recalling life events damning in their impact.

***

And to now make this writing a little easier to follow, let’s take this moment to acknowledge that, of course, this little girl, now a woman, is me! But I think you knew that!

***

So, as the sessions with this psychologist progressed I discovered a large collection of what I term ‘learnings’ regarding how life apparently works had influenced my mind, my bodies response to the thoughts carried within my mind, my adopted behaviours, and hence the emotional overload being experienced. Physical symptoms joined the chorus of knowledge!

I was guided to examine my values and beliefs for life. Did they actually align with who I am? Or were they ‘put into me’ by others and I, out of fear, were following their lead.

Under the umbrella of this therapy I was to understand that as humans we have wants and needs. Wants are those beautiful additions we add to our lives that deliver happiness, enhancing our experience of living. Five needs were listed as important for daily life – Fun (well that goes without saying!), Freedom (that is the feeling of being free to live as we wish without control or harm), Survival (having access to clothes, food, shelter, water), Power (self-worth, self-esteem, not power over others), and Love and Belonging (connection, care, acceptance, meaningful relationships).

I was to also learn about connecting habits and disconnecting habits. Now this area really caught my attention!  Connecting habits included support, encouragement, listening, acceptance of difference, trust, respect, and negotiation. Disconnecting habits included criticism, blame, complaining, nagging, threats, punishment and bribing. I could resonate clearly with this line of learning. Each hold connection to the relationships we encounter in life, I could see how the disconnecting habits had invaded my family life as a child – and hence exacted their damage.

Finally, Reality Therapy, which I came to understand explores the ‘reality’ of our lives to date, demonstrated the importance of, and impact of, relationships to our growth and development. 

This woman was universally sent at the time when I was ready to understand how I was living – the fears I carried and lived by, and why I was longing to navigate life in a different way. The willingness accompanying myself to each session was the breakthrough required for recovery to eventuate. Tired of re-locking doors, smoothing surfaces, pounding the walls as migraines cut into my head for two days, using furniture, walls, fences, anything I could, to walk, experiencing panic attacks for days on end, and living with the most horrendous fears – I was at my absolute end.

As I learnt about me I learnt about how we are shaped as humans, how our brains wire according to the shaping. This wiring is where our thoughts are stored alongside of life events that significantly influence our overall development. Our thoughts influence our behaviours, our emotions, and eventually our physical symptoms. Additionally, all the related areas of discussion generated demonstrated just how misaligned I was with ME! 

I had a lot of rewiring to do; a lot of relearning to do; a lot of self discovering to do to establish who I was in this world!

Fear stood up at every change orchestrated making this life of mine more stressful, scary, and above all, seemingly impossible to overcome.

Fortunately, determination and the desire to change the patterns and threads of my life for the benefit of my children kept me moving forward.

As life events revealed their contribution there were revelations emerging from within my body via carefully constructed questioning, from interactions with family members sent right on time when their input was required, and from something I initially rejected – that of dreams. Gosh, these nightly encounters were filled with information one could not ignore; especially when the dream content became the day time experience.

My body stored a powerhouse of information ready to be known, dissected, debunked, understood and rearranged in a much more life aligned manner. Along the way I finally discovered one of the emotions lining my existence; that heavy handed one that resided in me from the age of two.

SHAME …

Shame had wrapped itself around me, intertwined itself within my cells, deeply lodged itself within my mind, and hence became producer, director and script writer for how my life unfolded from the moment I shut that gate and watched the family car disappear over the hill. 

Shame felt like a prison.

Shame told me daily I was not liked.

Shame took my soul, diminished its existence, and left it suffering immeasurable pain.

The concealed truth wishing to be known that fateful Sunday was steeped in an event too many across our globe experience – sexual abuse. I was to find that as the abuse was inflicted I was told to never speak of it as I would be to blame, I would not be liked, and the hardest acknowledgement, the perpetrator would be killed. That was a lot of responsibility placed upon my shoulders – but I believed it as truth. With the opportunity to have this part of my story exposed now lost, and with no chance of reframing the trauma, into people pleasing I went. Shame resided in me telling me I was flawed, I was inadequate, unworthy. Shame became the powerful emotion influencing every aspect of my life moving forward. With a script now seeped in words that berated, condemned, devalued, I became the person I needed to be to protect me from further punishment, further disbelief, and further harm. Added to this line of belief was a second sexual abuse event at age five via the hands of my godfather. This event cemented the shame firmly within my subconscious pathways. I definitely was that unlovable person; the unworthy reject; the most dreadful of beings. The person I needed to be added to, and intensified, a whole new array of characteristics to my repertoire at age five in order to survive life.

I disappeared into the background of my existence. I avoided anything that I felt would draw criticism, exclusion, rejection. My whole self morphed whenever the environment I found myself in deemed it necessary. 

I shrank. Shame engulfed. I knew I lived with fear, but up until meeting the breakthrough, without a name, without definition, I floundered around trying to rid myself of it to live freely. No other therapy undertaken had helped me identify this thing called shame. But here I was, facing a fear that finally had a name. So, what did I do once I had a diagnosis? I conversed with this emotion – face to face.

What?

This was the guidance provided – to commune with shame – ask its purpose, its knowledge content, its reason for existing within me.

Annoyed at first, I did ask the questions that arose once I started. I learned that held within emotions felt are the answers we seek when recovery is our goal. Held within shame, for me, was the story that saw shame join me that birthday morning, and cemented at age five at the hands of my godfather. As a child I did the only thing I could – go inwards, own the punishment for speaking, and turn that punishment into a damning emotion for this was what I deserved. And, dear me, to involve myself in a second sexual abuse event – what a horrible little person I was. Shame told me I was bad. Believing this to be, there was no way I was going to speak of these events to anyone in my life again. 

Until now … when it felt safe to do so …

I had tucked the stories of shame away. I dare not reference them. As the years passed by the memory of abuse faded but the impact of abuse remained alive via the emotion adopted, shame. Uncomfortable in its presence it served the purpose of protection from further punishment. Shame was there to prevent me from experiencing the awful feelings of abandonment, of neglect, of blame, of responsibility for others wrongs. It was an armour of protection adopted as the realisation that I was not worthy of being heard and supported buried itself deep within.

Shame existed to ‘look after me’ in a way, but I was to learn that when one is ready to heal, shame will step forward, intensify its presence, and when ready divulge the story behind its existence. In sharing the stories and their misaligned content of belief, I was able to reframe, redefine the abuse. Overtime, and with extensive understanding joining me, I was able to let shame go. In doing so, I came to eventually thank shame for being there for me all those years. It had protected me from further punishment. However, when in determined application I called out to understand, it willingly shared its content. With new understanding, a new way of thinking evolved. This new view of understanding became the basis for re-shaping me from the hold of being flawed, of being bad, to that of being worthy, not naughty, and certainly not responsible for the actions of others. The new thinking changed the debilitating fearful driven behaviours I was living. Together, the thinking and behaviours released the emotion that had underlined my life all those years. The physical symptoms still carried – the pains in my muscles, the migraines, the weakness of energy, and often blurry eyes, dissipated over time. I rewrote my values and beliefs, designing a new life based upon who I am. I attended to my wants and needs. As a mother I adopted the connecting habits, mindful of the disconnecting habits damage.

But the greatest achievement was that of disconnecting from the relationships I still answered to that were influential aspects built into the life events that had taken me to the depths of shame in the first place. Although some no longer existed in my current life, their influence had persisted. Family relationships required an overhaul. This later progression meant facing new found fears. Yet I did this, knowing that I may well find support, or rejection. 

I found rejection …

Today I am still disbelieved and set aside within the family as a drama queen. I accept that those who knew had discredited me in readiness of the day I may speak. I would have folded once, perhaps back into shame for having upset the apple cart once more. But I know how this thing called shame works now and will not allow its presence, its dark cloaking, to wrap itself around me again. And I understand that shame is as glad to be released from its hold as I am! You see, shame spent all those years waiting patiently to inform so it too could find peace.

Once understanding had joined us both, rest from having invaded my soul, rearranged my path of existence, and the need to twist my cells daily, had arrived; shame had left, job complete, I had discovered my soul, – neither of us were going back to that life of dismembered pain!

That chapter now permanently closed …

Shame, I thank you!

***

Footnotes: 

As I reflect upon those healing years for the purpose of sharing insights for you the reader, I acknowledge I needed to become the hero in my own life, to become responsible for its direction, to let go of antiquated ideals born from misguided parental observation plus damning indoctrinations born whilst being abused, and design a script reflective of who I really was without the restriction of shame.

The ‘learnings’ drawn from all I have suffered has provided a wealth of understanding not only of myself, but also others. Compassion – the emotion replacing shame – allows me to see beyond the present situation and to guide others toward their healings end. I needed to take what had happened to me and do something positive with it. This chapter is one of those ‘positives’.

Personally, I needed to find my bliss and once defined, live this for this was where authenticity existed and the right path for my life was to be found.

In doing so, I could, at last, become the story designer of my life moving forward and then the story teller of my life for others to hear, to resonate with, and to be given guidance in how to heal and discover their ability to become their story designer without the control of shame.

Staring down shame in order to learn from it is challenging, but so worth the journey, as you and all of your worth is to be found here …