My Friend, Shame
- irenelandouris
- Aug 9
- 2 min read

Shame has a way of whispering — and sometimes screaming — that we are inherently bad, unworthy, and unlovable. Unlike guilt, which tells us we’ve done something wrong, shame attacks the very core of who we are.
There are moments where shame serves a healthy function — guiding us to repair harm, fostering empathy, and helping us stay connected to our values. But when shame becomes toxic, it stops being a guide and becomes a prison. It shapes how we see ourselves, limits our relationships, and keeps us in patterns of hiding and self-protection.
The Weight of Toxic Shame
Toxic shame is rarely just a thought. It lives in the body — in the slump of the shoulders, the inability to meet another’s gaze, the heaviness in the chest. It is deeply embedded, often born in early experiences where love felt conditional or where mistakes were met with criticism rather than care.
Over time, shame builds high, impenetrable walls. Its defences are strong: perfectionism, people-pleasing, withdrawal, even anger. These strategies exist to protect us from being hurt again — but they also keep us from being truly seen.
The First Step in Loosening Shame’s Grip
I often ask myself how to help someone with shame when its roots run so deep. My experience tells me that the very first step isn’t to challenge it head-on, but to walk alongside the person who carries it.
Safety comes first. When someone feels deeply seen, accepted, and not judged, shame has less room to breathe. This kind of presence becomes a corrective emotional experience. It starts to show the body and mind that being witnessed — fully, as we are — doesn’t always lead to rejection.
Creating Spaces Where Shame Can Be Seen
When safety is established, the grip of shame loosens. In those small openings, shame reveals itself: in a story told, in a tear held back, in a glance quickly averted. These are moments of possibility. Moments where we can gently name it, understand it, and begin to rewrite the story it tells.
Healing from shame is not about erasing it completely — it’s about transforming our relationship to it. Instead of letting it define us, we learn to see it for what it is: a learned response to pain that no longer serves us.



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