The Shame of My Life

Thursday’s Prompt: Did I feel free to be myself or did I fear reactions and walked on eggshells?

For as long as I can remember, I have been a shy girl. Most of the time, I was having a bad time expressing my thoughts and feelings, and I was an introvert. When I was young, many judged me for the way I looked and the things I said. And as I grew up judgment, transformed into the shame of being myself. And I was sitting back without saying anything…

I didn’t know what to say anymore…

Someone took the words out of my mouth, my voice.

How dare this person steal my identity?

How can I let this happen?

I remember in some companies I’ve made, sitting back and say nothing. Like I wasn’t there. Like I didn’t exist. And the worst part was that most of the time, there was this really annoying person: “Why aren’t you talking? What’s the matter?”. Maybe you were too busy being social and didn’t see how I was struggling in the situation and decide to make it even more uncomfortable for me by making me answer this idiot question.

I know that probably they didn’t have bad intentions. But if you want to be nice to someone shy, you can always just try to talk to them simply.

I know it’s not their fault. I don’t blame them. But I’m trying and I’ve made some progress, and I’m so proud of myself.

See, shame is the sentiment that is translated as a shy characteristic in a person. Shame… Shame is the crappy feeling telling you that you must seek acceptance in others, that you can’t make a choice if others don’t approve of it, that you need to be whoever the others accept.Shame leads you to follow the instructions of others for your own life. Shame doesn’t allow you to be yourself because you are afraid of others’ opinions.

Though, you know you can’t please everyone.

Don’t you ever let anyone take the acceptance of yourself, the freedom to be whoever the hell you are.

I’m using the “you” pronoun just because I’m talking in myself too. Because I need myself to listen up.

I accept I have shame on my body and as a result of it, I struggle to express myself, not only in others but also in myself. But I’m working on myself and I’m so proud of the progress I’ve made.

Although, as I am writing this I have to confess that anyone from my close people has read my stories, and I’m so scared the day they will. I’m writing this and I laugh. How ridiculous is this? Oh my God. The other day, my mum asked to see my profile, and I was like “Yeah right ma, sure” with a sarcastic tone, and when she asked why not: “You know, I write in English and you won’t understand much”, I excused to her. Oh my God. Don’t be harsh on me.

Just one step at a time.

I’m really lucky that I started writing on Medium. I understand how this is the best opportunity for me to voice up in public. Writing is such an amazing tool to connect with me. And then I have all these people to read my stories (well as many as they are). I’ve just started on medium, and even so I want to thank everyone and also 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. for the great prompt. I have to confess a weight lifted off my shoulders.