I don’t remember where I read these words—I vaguely recall a dingy red pamphlet, given to me by a well-meaning social worker—but I know exactly when. It was February 11, 1988, three months before my son, Adam, was born, one day after an amniocentesis revealed he had Down syndrome. I’d refused what would have been a very late-term therapeutic abortion but not because the diagnosis didn’t bother me. I felt trapped in a bizarre nightmare. In 24 hours, I’d gone from daydreaming about my perfect baby to bracing myself for “stares and insensitive comments.” 

My first reaction to that pamphlet was to throw up. Things went downhill from there. I already loved my unborn son, but I had no idea how to “tolerate the humiliation” of being his mother. Avoiding humiliation was practically my religion. I was a slavish overachiever, desperate to succeed, to please, to fit in. Now, it seemed, I would be obviously and publicly shamed in the all-important role of mother. 

I didn’t realize that I’d just been handed the key to freedom from the humiliation—and the fear of humiliation—that had always governed me. I was about to learn that my level of shame was always under my own control, that I would endure exactly as much humiliation as I consented to feel, and that instead of tolerating this awful feeling, I could simply dispense with it. All of this is equally true for you. 

Phobias, Paralysis, and Poison

In her book Fear and Other Uninvited Guests, psychologist Harriet Lerner points out that of all the forces that shape human behavior, fear of humiliation is among the most powerful. The most common fear is not of illness or accident, but public speaking; soldiers will march into certain doom rather than be branded cowards. Many clients tell me they prefer lives of quiet desperation to the possible embarrassment of trying and failing to realize their heart’s desire. 

Humiliation’s power can keep people from violating basic social boundaries. But like tear gas, it has only one effect: incapacitation. Try this little experiment. Say out loud the words “I’m so ashamed of myself,” and notice how your mind and body react. You’ll probably feel enervated, paralyzed, as though you’ve donned a lead straitjacket. These sensations don’t just stop you from doing anything wrong; they stop you from doing anything, period. 

To see the effect of this, consider an area of your life in which you feel frustrated and stuck: relationships, work, personal goals, maybe all of the above. Are you doing absolutely everything possible to get what you want in these areas? If not, why not? Why not demand that promotion, resist your critical mother, write your novel? If fear of humiliation is your problem, your answer will probably be something like: “If I do that, people may gossip about me/hate me/laugh at me/judge me.” Or “That’s unheard-of in my family/neighborhood/religion/company.” Or maybe, simply,?”That would make me look greedy/stupid/fat/selfish/wimpy/ wrong.” 

These phrases, and any other variation on the “what people might think” theme, are shame mantras. Obeying them prevents all kinds of experiences—but not, it turns out, humiliation. In fact, the more we obey our fear of shame, the more our frame of mind guarantees we’ll feel humiliated.

Choosing Freedom

To paraphrase Eleanor Roosevelt, no one can cause us to feel humiliation or shame without our consent. Conversely, withdrawing our consent can end shame-based pain and paralysis immediately. That’s because the real cause of humiliation isn’t being judged or attacked by others, it’s living in any way that conflicts with your real values. 

For example, there are cultures in which women are terrifically ashamed if they don’t have wooden plates in their lips or metal rings elongating their necks. You probably aren’t wearing either accessory, but this doesn’t make you feel humiliated—and probably wouldn’t even if you were to visit one of these societies—because you don’t adhere to those standards of beauty. 

On the other hand, many American women feel deeply humiliated if they have more fat than a ballpoint pen, even though some cultures idealize a hefty figure. Standards of beauty are arbitrary. Body shame exists only to the extent that our physiques don’t match our own beliefs about how we should look. Change the belief “I should be ashamed” to, say, “I should be kind” and humiliation disappears, leaving us empowered rather than paralyzed. 

Humiliation Elimination

Align Your Actions With Your Convictions 

If your behavior violates your own moral standards, humiliation is a natural consequence. There are two strategies for avoiding this. Strategy number one is obvious: Don’t do anything you think is wrong or fail to do anything you consider morally necessary. I’m guessing you’re a well-meaning person who’s trying to follow the rules, but if you’re having persistent trouble “being good” or if your shame is triggered because of what you are rather than what you do, adopt strategy number two: Stop trying to change your behavior; instead, rethink your beliefs. 

I first understood the power of this shift after my son’s diagnosis. Although I desperately feared the humiliation of having an “imperfect” child, something in me resisted giving him up. So, unable to bring my actions into line with my beliefs, I gradually brought my beliefs into line with my actions. I began questioning the assumption that people with Down Syndrome are imperfect. Like anyone else, they are perfectly themselves, as nature made them. Maybe the real defect lay in the belief that such loving and lovable people were defective. 

This way of thinking felt strange to me but very right. As soon as I tried it on, I felt my humiliation begin to evaporate. I’ve since heard many clients describe this feeling after flipping a belief on its head. Many have spent years paralyzed by the thought, I feel so humiliated. There must be something wrong with me. Things begin to move the moment they try thinking, I feel so humiliated. Maybe there’s something wrong with my beliefs. (Note: Humiliation won’t disappear unless your new attitude is genuinely okay for you. Merely excusing behavior you feel in your heart to be wrong only increases shame.)

Rejecting humiliation in this way can transform you from a psychological paralytic to a powerful force for positive change. Like Huck Finn wrestling with social training that said he should be ashamed at hiding a runaway slave, then rejecting his belief in slavery, you may discover that your new truth feels “righter” than society’s preconceptions. 

Open Up 

Once your beliefs are congruent with your actions, the next step toward banishing humiliation is openness. Starting with a person who feels safe and nonjudgmental, raise the very conversational topics you’ve always avoided out of embarrassment. Talk, write, shout, laugh, or cry out loud about whatever humiliates you most. 

If this sounds crazy, think about how Princess Diana was embraced by the public for opening up about her eating disorder, her depression, her affairs. On the other hand, public figures who lied to avoid humiliation (Pete Rose, former president Clinton) ended up being more shamed than if they’d been honest from the get-go.

Once you’ve confided in your safe person, begin broadening your circle. Discuss your taboo issue with friends, colleagues, even the world at large. Take this at your own pace, and treat yourself kindly if you get a response that formerly might have mired you in shame. Remember that you are acting as morally as you know how, and that you therefore have no reason to feel humiliated. Then talk to someone else about how awful it felt to be judged. The more open you are, the more others will support you. 

Be Proud 

Know this: If you are following your own moral rules, the very things you’re ashamed of are likely the things about which you can feel most proud. Say you’ve battled obesity, mental illness, addiction, or abuse: Take pride in the extraordinary courage you’ve shown by surviving and working toward health. If others make you feel ashamed for what you are—your heritage, your sense of what is true for you—you’ll find that expressing pride in those same qualities is the road to inner peace. 

This works in silly situations as well as lofty ones. Remember when Rev. Jerry Falwell accused Teletubby Tinky Winky of same-sex orientation? Falwell pointed out that Tinky was purple (gay), had a triangle-shaped antenna on his head (gay), and carried a purse (gay, gay, gay). Instead of counterattacking, a number of people nominated Tinky Winky for grand marshal of the San Francisco gay pride parade, turning a potential shame fest into a jolly celebration. (Tinky Winky didn’t win the vote, but you get the point.) 

I got a similar gift from the potential humiliation of having a son with an extra chromosome. Sure, strangers have recoiled, doctors and associates have bluntly told me that keeping him was stupid. Long ago I stopped feeling humiliated by such nonsense. I am proud of everything about Adam, who at 22 is one of the finest people I know. I’ve written about him, traveled the world with him, stood with him before crowds gathered to celebrate his difference. What’s sometimes hard to contain is not the humiliation but the pride and joy of taking my child out in public. 

The same process can work for you. Are you ashamed about your body, your history, your loves, your longings? If you know in your heart that these things are right for you, stop trying to fix, change, expel, or squash them. Share them. Take them out in public every darn chance you get. Now say it out loud: “I’m so proud of myself.” The rush of strength and expansiveness that comes from declaring this honestly is the antidote to paralysis and the beginning of many wonderful adventures. And each time you choose that instead of shame, you really should be proud. 

After eight rounds of Artificial Insemination and two rounds of In Vitro, there they were at last.

Home from the hospital, sleep deprived and surrounded by breast pump equipment, bottles, feeding schedules, diapers, formula, nursing pads, pacifiers and books titled things like What to Expect the First Year, I sat there staring at my two perfect babies. I didn’t feel joy, I didn’t feel happiness, I didn’t even feel gratitude.

I felt shame. A shame so big, it filled the room.

I hated this new life. I hated the sound of crying. I hated being awake at all hours of the night. I hated being responsible for another person’s survival. But most of all, I hated myself for hating it all so much.

Shame.

The dictionary defines it as a painful feeling that comes about from the consciousness of something dishonorable or improper, done by oneself or another. The root of the word can be traced back to an older word meaning “to cover.”

And this is what we do. We hide our shame. We cover it up so nobody finds out. We keep it out of sight, which makes us blind to how it fuels our decisions and our actions.

I expected to fall into motherhood gracefully, to be entertained and delighted by my babies; to be a radiant new mother. I couldn’t admit to the shame I felt for not living up to my own expectations, especially after all I’d been through to get them.

So I hid my shame, from myself and from the rest of the world.

I compared myself to the “good” mothers out there and threw myself into the role. But it didn’t make me happy and it didn’t make me a better mother. I became more and more exhausted trying to prove to myself and to the world I was a good mother. The harder I worked, the more exhausted I got and the less I enjoyed my children.

The turning point came on Mothers’ Day. I lost my mom six months into my pregnancy. There I was with no mother and two babies of my own when I stumbled upon an article entitled, “Mother Yourself.” It was like fireworks exploding in my head.

I needed to mother myself.

In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott writes, “You get your confidence back… by trusting yourself, by being militantly on your own side.”

A mother, after all, stands militantly on the side of her children.

My children taught me I could hate my life, the lack of sleep, the sound of crying, the endless second-guessing and the intimidating amount of responsibility that comes with being a mother, and also be deliriously in love.

So, in the same way I still love my son after he uses my arm to wipe his nose and I still love my daughter after she throws a fit in Costco and won’t get off the floor, I can love myself for being human.

I admit, sometimes after wiping applesauce off the wall for the third time in a day, I still yearn for life without kids. But then my daughter says to me in her precious three-year-old voice, “Thank you Mama for making me food” and I realize I’d wipe up an eternity of applesauce for my kids.

I’ve learned how to have a life of my own and be my own kind of mom in a way that feels good to me.

You can too. Here’s how.

Step 1. Acknowledge your feelings

Unexamined shame will motivate you to do things that will make you even more miserable. End the cycle. Be honest with yourself about what you’re feeling.

Before I realized the shame I felt for being such a miserable mother, I drove myself to prove how good I was. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t shower. I didn’t ask for help. It left me exhausted. As a result, I was less able to be the mom I wanted to be.

Step 2. Expose Your PERFECT MOTHER

You no doubt have an image of “the perfect mother” in your mind. Describe her in as much detail as possible.

Even though I consider myself a “modern woman,” my perfect mother is very 1950’s. I can see her now… perfect hair and makeup as she gracefully removes fresh baked cookies from the oven.

Step 3: IDENTIFY BLACK OR WHITE THINKING

Look at your description of the perfect mother and think about how you’re different. Are you buying into black or white thinking? You may not be like your version of the perfect mother in a lot of ways but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a good mother YOUR way.

Back when I was hiding my shame, I would take my kids to Story Hour at the local library and compare myself to a certain mom who always showed up looking great, her little girl dressed to perfection with braids in her hair. My kids still sported remnants of breakfast on their clothes and face. Instead of being proud of myself for getting them out of the house, I’d compare myself to her and conclude I was a bad mom.

Step 4: DISCREDIT THE PERFECT MOTHER

When you believe there’s only one way to be a good mom, it’s hard to think of how to be a mother in your own way.

Consider these questions:

1. Can you think of anyone who did NOT match your image of the perfect mother who was wildly successful at it?
2. What’s funny about your image of the perfect mother?
3. What surprises you about your image of the perfect mother?

There are so many amazing moms out there who do not match my 1950’s cliché: Martha Beck, Hillary Clinton, Marian Wright Edelman, Harriet Tubman, my own mother! The funny and surprising thing about my stereotype is that it’s very Leave it to Beaver. When I think about all the amazing moms on my list above I realize that they did so much more than just devote every waking moment to their children. The work they did in the world and the example they set enriched the lives of their children in ways that June Cleaver never could.

Step 5: IDENTIFY YOUR ASSETS

Recognize how being different than your perfect mother actually serves as an asset.

My mother used to break out into spontaneous dance at the grocery store. It used to embarrass me. Now I laugh out loud when I think about it. That’s the kind of mom I want to be. I may not be well groomed but I love to laugh and that’s an asset in my book.

Step 6: BE NICE

Being militantly on your own side means loving yourself unconditionally. So…Be nice! Notice how you talk to yourself. Forgive yourself for being human and treat yourself with compassion, understanding and encouragement.

Some mornings, when the twins hit each other over the head with kitchen utensils, and the baby cries because she wants to be held, and I find myself wiping apple sauce off the wall again, I don’t make it mean I’m a bad mother for thinking I’d like to jump a train to the next state and start anew. I find the funny in the situation, I think of what I’m grateful for, or I think of how best I can mother myself in that moment.

Step 7: REPEAT AFTER ME “I DON’T HAVE TO BE BETTER THAN I AM.”

When you wish you were different, more mothering or more patient, for example, you’re essentially telling yourself you’re not good enough just as you are. Accept yourself exactly as you are in this moment and repeat, “I don’t have to be better than I am.” My guess is you’ll be a much better mother when you let yourself of the hook.

When I lose my cool I scream. I used to feel so terrible about it, wishing I could just keep it together. But now, I forgive myself. I’m passionate after all. And you know what? I find myself screaming a lot less.

Step 8: GIVE PEOPLE PERMISSION TO JUDGE YOU

This is a tough one. We all want other people to think of us as good mothers. But letting the opinions of others dictate your self worth is a losing battle. There’s a great deal of freedom that comes when you can allow others to have negative opinions about you, your actions, or choices, without needing to explain yourself or feel defensive.

This morning I took my kids to the park. One mom didn’t seem very friendly. I found myself annoyed. “Is she judging me?,” I thought. “What the hell did I do? Why wouldn’t she like me?!” Then I stopped. I remembered that what she thinks about me is her business. It’s what I think about me that really matters. And that was that.

Bryon Katie writes “You can’t be free if you’re hiding. And in the end, the things we’re ashamed of turn out to be the greatest gifts we have to give.”

My shame has been a gift.

I can see myself now… under the spell of unexamined shame. My hands sore from endless futile attempts at a decent French Braid, charred cookies strewn about the kitchen, well groomed children wandering aimlessly through the house as I iron my dress and apply my lipstick. Instead I faced the shame – it taught me how to mother myself and to be my own unique brand of mother, and a happy one too.

Amy Pearson is a Martha Beck Master Certified Life Coach who helps women lead their lives from a place of self-love and confidence so they can play big in the world. Click here to learn more about Amy and sign up for her free e-course called “I Don’t Need Your Approval! How to Overcome Your Inner Approval Addict”.