How are you, Clara?

How are you, Lisa?

Dear Ada:

“Part of my resentment towards Sam stems from not feeling like he truly values who I am — reserved, conservative, introspective.”-

Ada, your honesty here is powerful. I wonder if the ache you describe might be less about Sam not valuing those parts of you, and more about you not fully valuing them yourself. When we stand firm in our own quiet strengths—our thoughtfulness, our depth, our sensitivity—the need to be seen and affirmed by another softens. It doesn’t vanish, but it stops feeling like proof of worth.

Growth doesn’t mean becoming like Sarah, of course. Growth might mean celebrating the elegance of your own inner rhythm. And maybe, gently, allowing it to take up more space in your relationship—not with loudness, but with certainty.

You don’t need to abandon who you are to be loved well. You only need to stand where you are and decide that it’s enough.

Of course, that doesn’t mean Sam’s behavior hasn’t contributed to the discomfort—it’s possible that both are playing a role. But I wonder if anchoring more deeply in your own self-worth might ease some of the ache around being seen.

🤍 Anita

Hi Everyone:

Alessa: “there is a huge level of trust in their caregiver… I believed my Mother and tried my hardest to be a good girl. I reviewed my mistakes each evening and tried to do better. I believed that if I did things perfectly, I wouldn’t be hurt. (Simply not true) But there was were always new things I was doing wrong. That intense trust in the caregiver and the lack of understanding.”-

Your words trace the heartbreaking logic of childhood: If I’m good enough, maybe the pain will stop. It begins with the child’s instinctive, total trust—a trust that is not earned, but biologically wired for survival. And when that trust is met with harm, the child doesn’t question the caregiver—they question themselves.

This trust is absolute—the child assumes the caregiver is right, even when the caregiver is harmful. When the caregiver is unpredictable or punitive, the child internalizes the message: “If I’m being treated this way, I must be bad.” The child then begins to monitor themselves obsessively, trying to be “good enough” to restore connection.

Unlike healthy shame, which helps us learn and grow, toxic shame is identity-based. It doesn’t say “I made a mistake,” it says “I am a mistake.” Over time, this erodes the child’s sense of self, leading to: low self-worth, perfectionism, emotional withdrawal, and difficulty forming healthy relationships.

The child psychology service. co. uk/ impact of shame: “Children traumatised by neglect and abuse… are hypersensitive to shame and unable to tolerate it… Abuse and neglect are shaming for babies and young children because, unable to understand the social world or the minds of other people, all they have is themselves. So when they, unconsciously, try to make sense of the parenting they receive the only person that can possibly be in control, and therefore responsible, is themselves. Therefore, babies can only interpret their experiences as their own fault…

“Babies do not have any concept of the idea that other people have minds that are different to their own. If they did they may able to understand that the responsibility for the treatment they receive is someone else’s.”

This article explains that children who experience neglect or abuse often carry a double burden when it comes to shame. First, they become highly sensitive to shame, and struggle to tolerate even small doses of it. Second, the way they behave—shaped by early survival instincts—is often misunderstood by adults, who use reward and punishment systems to try to “correct” them. These systems rely on shame to influence behavior, unintentionally piling more shame on top of the child’s original wounds.

When babies and young children are mistreated, they don’t yet understand that others have independent thoughts and responsibilities. They can only see the world from inside themselves. So when something painful happens, they believe it must be their fault. They unconsciously interpret the hurt they receive as proof of their own badness, absorbing shame before they even have the words for it. This early shame becomes a deep part of their identity.

As these children grow, they feel shame each time they fail to meet expectations. Adults often respond with correction, frustration, or discipline, which only confirms the child’s belief that they’re wrong or unworthy. This doesn’t help them change—it just deepens the idea that they’re inherently flawed. It’s a cycle that reinforces shame at every turn.

Psych central/ childhood toxic shame (very true to me): “Toxic shame is often accompanied by toxic guilt, where the person feels unjust responsibility and guilt. So the person not only feels ashamed, but also guilty for things they are not actually responsible for. They also feel responsible for other peoples emotions, and feel ashamed and guilty when other people are unhappy, especially if its in some way related to them.”

I further read that to heal toxic shame (so I read), the child (or adult they become) must:

* Reclaim the truth: “It wasn’t me. It was what was done to me.”

* Rebuild trust—not just in others, but in their own worth.

* Experience relationships where love is unconditional, and mistakes are met with compassion, not punishment.

Peter: “On the question of shame, I’ve found L.B. Smedes book ‘Shame and Grace’ one of the best I read on the subject…. I’ve been reading up on Sufism and they might speak of shame as something woven into the fabric of being human. ‘The heart must be polished until it reflects only the Beloved’. But the dust on the mirror, that too is part of the path. Even Shame, deserved and undeserved and ancient, can become a polish.-

A few quotes from the book (which I didn’t read): “We feel guilty for what we do. We feel shame for what we are.”,

“Shame is a very heavy feeling. It is a vague undefined heaviness that presses on our spirit, dampens our gratitude for the goodness of life, and diminishes our joy.”

“The cure for shame is not to try harder to be good. The cure is grace.”

“Grace is the gift of being accepted before we become acceptable.”

In Sufism (so I read), the Beloved is God—pure, radiant, and ever-present. The heart, in its raw form, is like a mirror, meant to reflect the divine, but it’s dulled by dust: ego, fear, desire, grief, shame. This dust isn’t a flaw. It’s part of the journey. The mirror isn’t broken—it’s waiting to be polished.

According to Sufi healers, shame arises when connection is broken—with self (when we feel we’ve betrayed our own values or worth), others (when we’re rejected, misunderstood, or harmed), or the Divine (when we feel unworthy of love or grace).

Shame is a signal, not a sentence. It tells us where connection has frayed. Vulnerability is the medicine. When we stop hiding, we begin healing. Surrender is the path. In admitting our brokenness, we open to grace.

Instead of covering shame with perfectionism or withdrawal, Sufis encourage us to name it, feel it, and offer it to the Divine. That act of surrender becomes a sacred intimacy—a moment where the heart, raw and exposed, is most receptive to Love.

This teaching doesn’t deny the pain of shame—it transforms it: The child who felt “bad” becomes the seeker who knows they are beloved. The wound becomes the place where the Light enters, as Rumi said. The mirror, once clouded, begins to shine—not despite the dust, but because it was polished by it.

Thank you Alessa and Peter for giving me this opportunity to understand better and address my lifelong toxic shame. I wish more people joined us here.

🤍 Anita