My Shameful Valentine
As soon as February started, I was already experiencing the oh-so-familiar anxiety that always strikes in anticipation of another Valentine’s Day. The reality is that this day never just passes by for me: it stirs up an emotional shit storm. This year feels different in so many ways from other Valentine’s Days, as I am approaching it from a place of deep embodiment. In the spaciousness I’ve carved out for myself, I am courageously facing my fears head on. Why is it, Paige, that you hate Valentine’s Day to the core of your very being?
In the last couple of years, I’ve learned that this bias was formed from a very traumatic childhood experience. My Somatica training has shed such extraordinary light on the power of an authentic shame share. My intention is to embrace the fear and share about my childhood experience that has impacted my perception of this holiday.
My parents divorced when I was 9 and we moved to Penticton to start a new life: together, but very separate. I attended a brand new school for Grade 5 and quickly started to catch feelings for this cutie, Robbie. He had long dirty blonde hair and an air of aloofness that I found alluring. Now, since pretty much the moment I could walk, I was completely enamored with boys and men. I was such a curious girl, who loved the feeling of having a “crush” on someone. As Valentine’s rolled around, my mom got me a box of cute little Valentine’s cards and I set about writing my classmates' names on each card. When it came to Robbie’s card, I thought that I could write a special message for him. This thought enticed a cascade of fluttery feelings that emerged in my belly and emanated throughout my whole body. I allowed myself to daydream about how he would react when he received this “special” Valentine from me. I decided to write “I think you're cute and I like you!”
The day to share our cards with the class finally arrived and I was overcome with anticipation and excitement about what I was about to do. I bravely went around the room delivering each valentine and felt confident when I dropped off his. We were invited to spend some time at our desks opening our Valentine’s; I watched as he opened all of his cards. I felt time stand still as I watched everything unfold before my eyes. It felt like I was watching the experience from outside of my body. Quietly, innocently, I observed as he called someone else over to show them something at his desk. Before I knew it, the whole class had gathered around his desk and were giggling as they glanced in my direction. My whole class was laughing at me. I sunk deeper and deeper into my chair as my face grew more and more red. I experienced this sense of being completely exposed and did not know how to respond.
That year, I experienced my first real sense of shame and embarrassment- one that I have carried with me ever since. I can still feel all of those eyes on me, and am closely connected to that feeling of wanting to completely disappear.
My confidence and vulnerability that day was shut down and in a way I allowed that experience to diminish a very tender and beautiful part of myself. A girl who craved connection with a boy she had a crush on, simply wanted to be received by him. The reality of how he actually responded was a swift and painful blow to my heart.
I am sure, as children, we have all behaved in ways that we are not proud of. Perhaps I would have behaved in the same way, if the tables were turned and I did not want to stand out from the rest of my classmates. How could we have possibly known that these shameful feelings of being ‘less than’ would follow us? A collection of experiences built up over time, like a shadow lurking in the distance, waiting to cast doubt and hold you back from taking a chance to be hurt again.
The antidote to shame is empathy and sharing these experiences out loud with trusted beings diminishes its power. To be witnessed in our darkest moments without judgement allows the light to shine through.
