Shame on You

“Shame lives in the space between your public self and your private self”, Brene Brown

Cool jacket.

Shame plays a role in our climbing. It is difficult to notice, and perhaps more difficult to address, but it does happen. Shame can hold us back from achieving our full potential. Shame can convince us that we’re unworthy, untalented and unable to change ourselves. Shame is the intrusive voice telling us that we can’t. Can’t climb, can’t maintain relationships, can’t find a good job, can’t finish our degree.

Brene’s quote resonated with me because I almost instantly related to this idea of a space we give to our shame, and our negative self-talk. I had independently discovered this idea years before, but I hadn’t noticed the larger application of this realization.

I deal with anxiety and depression. In my 20’s I learned that the feelings of intense panic and discomfort I’d been feeling for the better half of my life were anxiety attacks. The bouts of sadness, low energy, poor performance at work and disinterest in my friends and relationships, they weren’t because I was an edgy, emo teenager; something was wrong with my brain.

It’s hard to feel like something’s wrong with your brain out here.

While this explanation put things into a more understandable context, it didn’t exactly help the issues themselves. “It’s not a problem for me, because I know the words to describe it” jokes Tina Fey in an episode of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Having context for my situation helped me approach it, but I was far from understanding.

One evening I went out to dinner with some friends and one of their extended family. I began to feel the familiar sensation of an anxiety attack. My standard reaction to this had become routine at this point. Close the eyes, breathe deeply. Find the rhythm in the breath. Notice your physical surroundings. Disengage from the conversation for a moment.

Then, without warning, I turned to my good friend John and told him in a low voice “I’m sort of having a panic attack right now”.

Good ol’ John.

“Oh. Are you alright? Do you want to come outside for a minute?” I had no expectation of what he might say to me, but it certainly wasn’t that. I had never been open about my anxiety before. I’d always viewed it as a weakness, a phantom fear that was my responsibility to manage. I was in uncharted territory.

“No, I think I’m alright. I just need to breathe for a second”. 

“Alright man”. He put his hand on my shoulder for a second, gave it a light squeeze, and turned back to his original conversation. This small acknowledgement had a huge impact on me. I instantly felt a little better; the anxiety wasn’t completely gone but it somehow seemed like a much more manageable guest in my head. A few minutes later I felt completely normal.

Somehow the simple act of externally expressing my anxiety had helped me manage it. In the years following this event I recreated the same effects. Any time I began to feel panicked I’d simply tell whoever I was with, in a matter of fact tone, “I’m having a bit of a panic attack right now”. Not once has anyone ever admonished me, or had a negative reaction. People are generally understanding and supportive, and I make the effort to surround myself with people who wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I read Brene Brown’s quote, I realized that I was missing a key part of this process. My anxiety caused me to feel shame. Shame that I was weak, that I was a burden, that I wasn’t the same person on the inside that I seemed like on the outside. By keeping my anxiety and depression to myself I had created a space for shame to live and grow. And by externalizing my struggles I had shrunk that space considerably. 

I could have been ashamed of my failure here, but I opted to learn something instead.

In climbing it’s easy to feel shame. Social media, magazines, videos and other climbers can all make us feel like we’re not living up to expectations. We can feel that we should be climbing harder grades, higher walls, steeper terrain, in better style. We can view our time spent climbing as not having enough “gains” and see it as a waste. We can project disappointment and frustration onto our friends and climbing partners. But all of this lives inside our head.

By being open and honest with other people, by being our authentic selves, we deny shame a space to live. Shame thrives in the disconnect between our internal image and our external presentation. By aligning these personalities we create an emotional environment of support, learning and growth. And by surrounding ourselves with people who care about us we make the task of vocalizing our struggles feel easier and safer.

That’s what friends are for.

Let’s go climbing!