Just as any addiction, we can put ourselves in recovery from shame. Shame too has its way of weaving itself through your life, saturating your world. It too has its way with your body, soul, and mind, until you feel pulverized and worn. And so we can, if we choose, come to a place, empty and bedraggled from the war we’ve been through, dragging our done-for, weary bones to the doorstep of healing, and enter our recovery. And through that door is a commitment. Is a declaration. To rehab all the parts of ourselves that habitually go to shame as some kind penance. Or just plain awful habit (one we didn’t generate but copied). It ought to be a strict and consistent practice in the beginning, a daily one. A moment by moment one. Consciously choosing to give up the pull towards that ugly vice we’re weaning ourselves off of. Listening to the soft voice we can’t often hear over the loudness of shame, the one that so clearly tells us what it needs but we so often snuff out and deprive. Practice — until you’ve rebuilt yourself anew, liberated from the grips of shame and replacing it with self-love. So much self-love. Honor and compassion and grace, too. They’re all there. Because self-love is a gift that never stops yielding more of the juicy good stuff. That’s the kind of high I’m after. What say you? 🙏🏽
The Blyss Catalyst 