Shame in a Diagnosis
Shame is a corrosive, soul eating monster. We all have it to some varying degree. It’s universal and one of the most primitive human emotions that we experience. Sometimes guilt and shame get mixed up or used interchangeably but I believe it’s important to distinguish the difference between the two. Simply put, we feel guilt for what we do, but we feel shame for what we are. To feel shame is to feel personal disappointment of your own existence. I am no stranger to that harsh reality.
After I opened up about my Dissociative Identity Disorder, I was asked if I would have told people if I still had it. That question has lingered in my mind, and I can finally be honest enough with myself to know that the answer is no. No, I would not have said anything and would have continued to keep it hidden. I wish I could say that I would have eventually come to a place of peace and acceptance about it all. That I could be confident enough with who I am to share my darkest secrets… but it all boils down to shame. I was deeply ashamed with my diagnosis; a shame I think would still be there as long as my alters existed. How could I possibly feel any different about myself when I truly believed I was a freak? A psychotic, vile spectacle. A monster with demons too hideous to ever see the light of day… I have slowly lost those toxic beliefs since being honest and only because I was honest. They never would have left if I remained quiet.
So why did I share in the first place? Where did that shame go? It definitely still hung around in the dark corners of my brain, but it started to dissipate when I integrated. I began to see myself as whole again and a little less damaged once I knew the “insanity” could never leak out and expose me for who I really was. By the time I released my video, I thought I had freed all the shame but boy was I wrong. The moment I clicked post, a great weight lifted off me. A weight so heavy and didn’t even know I was carrying that I felt like I was literally floating for weeks afterward. I could take a deep breath in a way I had never done before. I remember looking at myself in the mirror the next day and locking eyes with my reflection. The woman I saw staring back at me was reborn… so confident, so brave, so strong. I whispered the words “I’m so proud of you.”, and I really believed it. I had never loved myself more than in those following days.
“Shame hates it when we reach out and tell our story. It hates having words wrapped around it- it can’t survive being shared. Shame loves secrecy. When we bury our story, the shame metastasizes.” - Glennon Doyle
Do I still bear the burden of shame today? Unfortunately, yes. It’s just not necessarily about D.I.D. anymore. Not everyone I know and love supported my decision to tell people about my past. They wanted me to keep my secrets (for reasons I may never divulge). That pressure to stay silent only perpetuated the shame I once felt about having D.I.D. It reinforced that maybe there was something so horribly and fundamentally wrong with me that I would be better off never saying anything. I could never take it back after all and what a blunder that would be to ruin my life over it. I do my best to push it aside but here’s how shame affects me now… I don’t let people see my mistakes and I don’t want anyone to see the mess that hides behind the curtains. My outward image (home, clothes, hair and makeup) is carefully curated to appear like I have my life in order. I’m afraid that others are judging me and will eventually reject me. I struggle to make meaningful and lasting friendships. I worry that I have such little impact on anything significant. How could I possibly promote real change? Would anyone actually miss my presence? I fight with the skin I live in and experience low self-worth.
One of my goals in sharing my truth is to hopefully give others the courage to live their lives authentically and honestly; mental illness or not. You don’t have to hold onto the shame that controls you like I did. Shame needs three things to grow: secrecy, silence, and judgment. And here’s the thing about shame… the less you talk about it, the more you’ve got it. I promise you’re not an embarrassment if others can see your cracks on the surface instead of below it. Healing shame requires a vulnerability to share and let go of the false story of who we think we are. I once heard that shame is the lie that someone told you about yourself. What lies are you carrying? Let them go…
Dissociative Identity Disorder is purely about survival. As more people (including myself) begin to appreciate this concept, those with D.I.D. will start to feel less as though they have to hide in shame. What would happen if you stopped looking at your past as a tragedy and started seeing it as a valiant attempt to cope with trauma and stay alive at all costs? How would that affect your ability to be compassionate with yourself now?