Shame
- the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another.
- susceptibility to this feeling: to be without shame.
- disgrace; ignominy:
- a fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret:
I’m ashamed. I’m in disgrace. Regretful. Susceptible. A shame.
Initially full of promise. Full of dreams, streaming laughs, beaming smiles. I was a happy child. A good little girl. I walked early. Talked early. Read my way through the little blue beginner books in reception class within a few months. I danced my way up through the years. Literally.
Friendly, I was friendly. I was an overachiever. Then I stopped eating. Started cutting. I felt out of control. I got lost. But still, at least in the beginning I made every effort to obscure their view. Kept smiling outwardly. No problem here. Perfection. Got to be perfect. I perfected the facade of normality. My dad’s mantra “Emma ****** always does her best. They were proud. They had reason to be proud. I was heading for big things, instead I hit this titanic wall I didn’t see.
When my parents planned to have me, I can’t help but think that this is not what they bargained for. I’ve failed in so many ways. They’d never say it. I can feel it. I’ve let them down. They gave me the best life. I tried my best, I honestly did but I couldn’t make it go. Make it better. Make it leave me. And even then, I couldn’t hide it.
Even when I was little, I didn’t quite fit the bill of “normal”. I was never a good sleeper. Kept up late by worries and bullies who thought I was too tall. I worried too much. Thought too deeply. Far too deeply. This makes me believe that this is intrinsic to my personality, or lack thereof. Despondency has set in.
When I was 12 my edges began to fray. My world began to disintegrate. I began to disintegrate. I am now a threadbare carpet. I am dust. A shadow of my former self. No longer the daughter to be proud of. The world was at my feet but I tripped instead of grasped.
And now, at 17, I’m curled up in the same grey hoody and the same leggings I’ve been wearing for well over a week worrying about the light fitment warping its way around the ceiling and I’m ashamed about what I’m seeing.
I just wish there was a big enough paper bag.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: Childhood, Depression, Despondency, Family, Shame, Tripped
Dear girl, you have a disease, not a character flaw – you didn’t do this on purpose! You are this way because of a problem with your genetic makeup, not because of a problem with your personality. You are someone to be proud of, someone to love, someone to want to spend time with. Anyone who tries to make you believe otherwise can go straight to hell.
I agree with titaniumrose. It is not something wrong with your personality.
Things like this can happen to the best of us, and from reading a couple of your entries, I don’t think this has anything to do with your personality (which seems swell, in my opinion).
Meep. I feel the same way – failure-like – but I keep posting inanely cheerful comments and surely nothing shines through that way? Anyway. Let’s keep our chins up together!
Suzy x
I have the same types of fweelings, Ok our parents might not have planned for things to turn out this way but in the same way they didnt plan for me to have freckles, some things you dont pln you just have to live with. – I think thats all my cheerfulness done with, think I will join Suzy in chin up times and save it for my social worker at CAMHS tomorrow.
Thinking about you, Hannah X
Just thankyou x