I know shame not only as a concept, but as a lived experience. I know how it feels in the body. How quickly it can take over the mind. And how deeply it can shape emotional life, self-image, and the way we relate to others. Let me share a simple example.
Imagine this:
I’m about to join an online training. It’s interactive, and there’s one condition — everyone has to keep their camera on. There are still thirty minutes before it begins, and something starts happening inside me.
My mind fills with thoughts:
Do I really have to go?
What if I skip it?
Maybe I can join late?
What if I keep my camera off at first?
Why do I even need this? I could do something more useful instead.
At first glance, these thoughts may seem random. But they are not. They are avoidance. And underneath avoidance, there is often something deeper. In this case it is shame. More specifically, the shame of being seen.
Once I recognize what is happening, I start getting ready. I fix my hair, put on light makeup, choose my clothes carefully. It’s as if some part of me believes: If I look good enough on the outside, maybe no one will notice how scared I am on the inside.
But the discomfort doesn’t stop there.
The moment comes to join the meeting. And there it is again: maybe I can still do this without a camera, maybe I should be late?
But I know joining late would make me even more visible. And visibility is exactly what feels threatening.
So I enter.
And I freeze.
What is shame, really?
Shame is deeply relational. It often arises in the presence — real or imagined — of another person. At its core, shame says: something about me is not okay.
It’s one of the earliest emotional experiences we develop, often shaped in childhood. A child reaches for something, expresses themselves, feels excited, curious, alive… And then receives criticism, punishment or withdrawal. Over time, the nervous system learns: self-expression is dangerous. And this learning stays, not always consciously, but deep inside.
When shame becomes toxic
In my example, nobody at the training had judged me. Nothing bad had happened, and yet the emotional reaction was already there. That is what toxic shame often looks like. It doesn’t wait for an actual event. It lives in anticipation, fantasy, expectation. The body prepares in advance for rejection. Often, what we fear is not humiliation itself, but the exposure toward being seen.
Can we work with shame?
Shame is one of the most difficult questions to deal with. Shame is slippery. It hides. It makes us look away, disconnect and shrink – become invisible. I believe something shifts when we begin to notice it, name it, understand where it comes from. And allowing ourselves to feel it without associating with it. Shame does not disappear through force, but it softens through awareness and compassion toward ourselves.