Shame & Control: A New Connection

I'm getting some intensive training in posttraumatic stress these days, and a speaker said something intriguing the other day.

He said that we humans are wired to feel shame when we lose control. We see it all the time in people who've experienced trauma; they feel ashamed and their minds scramble to find a sensical way to blame themselves, to make the shame make sense. We also see it in children - they get pretty upset and kind of implode when they feel out of control.

What I derive from that is that everytime we think we're supposed to be in control of something but something happens and we aren't, we feel some amount of shame. This applies in extreme situations, like trauma, and it also applies in unimportant situations, like traffic.

Shame is big. It's one of our darkest experiences, one of the most vulnerable, and one we will usually do serious contortions to avoid. Subconsciously, if it starts to creep in, some other emotion - like anger or frustration - will likely charge forth to correct the situation.

Feeling shame and dealing with it, by owning our responsibility and forgiving ourselves and learning from the experience, requires "ego strength," a clinical term for psychological soundness. Having ego strength means we can tolerate emotional pain. Having ego strength means we can go through tough stuff and not be undone by it.

Shame is tough. And, it's something we're wired to feel anytime we lose control.

So, I'm working on a new theory. Control is the master addiction - most of us are addicted to control to some extent. I'm wondering if one of the reasons we're addicted to control is because it's an antidote to shame. A non-contortionist way to avoid shame. Hmm...

Emotion Follows Thought

I'm not a huge fan of cognitive-behavioral therapy, that great bedrock of modern psychotherapy, especially as practiced on the public in government-funded services. It works well for some people, and that's nice. I just happen to prefer other approaches.

But today, I'm borrowing one of their basic truths: emotion follows thought. What we think influences or even dictates how we feel.

If we think that our job is great, we'll feel pretty good going to work every morning. If we think our job sucks, we won't.

It's basic, it's true, and most people know it. Most normal people know that their thoughts and beliefs and the conclusions they draw about things inwardly informs how they feel and how they experience their life. And if we just choose to see things in a more positive light, we'll feel better.

We know this. We've been told, over and over, by high school teachers, by well-meaning people older than ourselves, by Oprah and her posse of doctors and coaches... but for some reason, we don't do anything with this information.

There's some generalized resistance to it. We feel like using this simple technique of consciously reshaping our thoughts amounts to self-hypnosis, or the cessation of free will, or something. Like we'll become automatons. Like we'll be vulnerable to propaganda. Like we'll lose a part of ourselves.

This suspicion isn't entirely without merit. The truth is that changing your thoughts means being less authentic, at least for a little while. Until you get used to it, until framing your interpretations of the world more positively feels more natural, and until you individually figure out how to do so without losing your ability to keep it real, it feels artificial. Forced. Wrong.

I propose, rather than going all the way over to the positive-thinking cult, you could simply start holding paradoxes.

A paradox is two opposites existing simultaneously. For example, my job is great, and also, my job sucks. Both can be true at the same time.

So, when you find yourself having a thought that you know makes you feel like crap, try asking yourself, "What else is true?"

For example, let's say your car needs $1000 worth of work you weren't expecting. That sucks. I, for one, would likely resist anyone trying to get me to frame this positively. So rather than trying to drink the cognitive-behavioral kool-aid, what else is true?

Well... I love my car. My car has been awesome and it's almost paid off and it's comfortable... etc. And even though the mechanic's estimate is a major bummer, remembering what else is true can help lighten the dark, sticky feelings that go along with that particular thought.

I'm Not There

Clients frequently ask me what I would do or say in a certain situation. Speculation is one of the slippery slopes of therapy. It's fun. It feels productive. It's sometimes valuable as a teaching tool. But it really isn't very accurate.

In any given situation, there's a lot of information our brain is sifting through. There's the context -- the where, the who, the why. There are dynamics -- the expectations and agendas of each person or entity involved and how they collide. There's meta communication -- body language, tone of voice, social meanings we give to certain gestures or responses depending on the context. And all this is apart from what is actually said, which, in a speculative therapy session, is frequently misquoted.

So, while we can play with it, I try to clarify that we're making up stories, and I can't really say what I would do because... I'm not there.

A key to emotional and psychological health is self-trust. We can't anticipate all possible scenarios and prepare ourselves, rehearsing what we might say and how others might respond, though some of us try, keeping ourselves busy on long drives and in line at the store with such mental calisthenics. But here's the thing: you're not there. So any strategy worked out thus is pretty much useless.

It's easier and feels better to build self-trust, gaining confidence in the idea that no matter what happens, you'll figure out what to do to the best of your ability. And if you make a misstep, you'll recover and forgive yourself.

It's simple and powerful, and if you can practice, I'd bet money your life with feel very different, in a good way.