Shame Drives Two Tapes- Daring Greatly #4

Not good enough and Who do you think you are

   No one likes talking about shame even though we all feel the warm wash of these two statements rush through our bones. After all, we don't feel shame because we haven't done anything wrong. But shame for wrong doing is not what we are really exploring, it goes deeper than that. It has more to do with who we think we are. 

  I went off to a large university when I was eighteen thinking I was pretty smart. I had a debate scholarship for two semesters and when it came time to register my blood ran cold. Who did I think I was posing as a debate student on a university level? I knew I wasn't good enough so I did not register for debate. I should have sought the help of a counselor in choosing my classes but I was ashamed to admit to them that I was not using my scholarship money correctly. So I made some more mistakes which added to my feelings of not good enough. I took a college level English class in high school so I registered for sophomore English the first semester. I made it through with a B grade. Second semester I registered for a junior level romantic poets class. Not a good choice. I received a D on my first paper. The teacher wrote," You write like a freshman" on the top of my paper. I felt traumatized when I sought him out to admit that I was. Instead of dropping the class I pushed through never quite understanding the daily assignment. He kindly gave me an incomplete. Even as I write this, I still feel the shame of that first year in school. What a young vulnerable girl I was and how I wish I could have given her some shame resilience. She survived, but the two tapes in her head stayed with her for years and still play the same tunes. Who do I think I am to presume to write music? Who do I think I am to teach piano without a music degree? Who do I think I am to teach a yoga class to fifty women when my body is way less than exemplary? Who do I think I am to even write a blog about vulnerability? The only answer I have is that I want to do those things and I show up every day to do them and to do them better than the day before.

   My role model is way cool. His name is Jesus and he models whole-heartedness to me in everything he did. Imagine him in his hometown synagogue, reading out of the Torah about the coming of the Messiah, and then boldly declaring who he was. His neighbors and friends tried to shame him by scoffing at his declaration. Did he armor up and rebuff them with his superior knowledge? Did he strike them down for their insolence? No, he stayed vulnerable and open so that he could feel the sting and understand the pain of rejection. His wholehearted submission to his Heavenly Father required that he take the sorrow and stay the course. I am in awe that he always knew who he really was. I wish I did.