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I think shame starts in childhood, and it just keeps repeating itself through adult hood. That is, until we finally break down and recognize it, and feel it. What we feel we heal.

I remember the first time I felt shame was the first day of kindergarten. All the kids were talking and playing, and I didn’t really know how to communicate with them. At home, my mom didn’t really talk with us, she mostly just commanded us to do things. That is all I knew, how to do things for others.

So anyway, halfway through the first day of school a little girl asked me to fix her hair. I got excited because I knew how to do that. After all, I spent hours fixing my mom’s hair at home. I had barely started making my classmate a braid when the teacher called me out. She told me to stop, and If I did it again I would get my name on the board. I remember feeling so shameful, because the teacher was basically taking away the only voice I had, the only way I knew how to communicate with my classmates.

I know it isn’t the teachers fault, how the heck was she supposed to know what went on at home. However, I spent a lifetime dealing with the shame of believing my voice was bad, and not important. There is a lot more to that story, LOL, but you get the jest.

However, there is always a blessing behind our pain. Although it took a while, once I was able to face the shame and feel it – I became alive again. Let me tell you, there is nothing like the feeling of “taking your first breath” again. This life is an awesome awesome ride.

• This reply was modified 11 years ago by Melinda Gonzalez.
• This reply was modified 11 years ago by Melinda Gonzalez.