Shame is a universal feeling but is experienced differently in different cultures. It is not what psychologists call an “infant emotion.” Babies and young children cannot feel shame until they develop a sense of “self” and understand that other people are looking at and evaluating them. [1]
For most of human history, survival depended entirely on the group. Being cast out from our group could mean starvation, vulnerability to predators or rival groups, and death. Shame – acting as a painful emotional alarm system – developed precisely to prevent social exile and to keep us safe. [2]
Today, most of us are not physically reliant on a group in a life-or-death way, but belonging, fitting in and feeling accepted are still powerful drives for a majority of people. We might not live in tight hunter-gatherer groups, but we all have peer groups, online “tribes” to which we belong or want to belong, and our family is, of course, a group by another name.
A lifelong need to belong
The pain of realising we have transgressed a group norm can be excruciating at any age, and not just in the teenage years when we are working out who “our” tribes are. Belonging can also come up strongly when we start a new job, enter a new relationship and encounter our partner’s family and friends, or when we have children and want them (and us) to fit in and be included in social gatherings.
In later life, the need to belong can manifest as the shame of feeling irrelevant, invisible or dependent. As our roles shift through retirement, health changes and bereavements, our internalised script might tell us we should remain entirely self-sufficient. This can make it shameful to ask for help, admit to loneliness or to be less “productive.”
The heat of situational shame
I remember a day more than a decade ago when I made an insignificant social misstep that was witnessed by a room full of people. I had done nothing terrible – just not followed the social rules of that particular group. At the time, and when remembering it afterwards, my physical and emotional responses were strong – disproportionate to the “crime” I was judging myself for and felt sure others were judging me for.
I had an immediate sense of wanting to shrink in on myself and to make myself small or, ideally, invisible. I had a strong impulse to remove myself from the room and I experienced a raised heart rate, a flushed face and a surge of adrenaline that could propel me “out of here.”
In one of the oldest stories of Western culture, immediately after a mistake is made by Adam and Eve, we read that “…the man and his wife hid themselves …among the trees of the garden” (Genesis 3:8-10). Hiding is the primary instinct of shame – it wants us to cover ourselves up, retreat into isolation, not to burden others with our presence, and to stay quiet.
Shame has been described as relational trauma [3] because it strikes at our sense of worth in the eyes of others. That was certainly my experience in my still-remembered social clumsiness. What I have described experiencing is an example of situational shame – the sudden flash of embarrassment whenever we make an obvious public mistake. Situational shame is temporary, behaviour-focused and will pass soon afterwards, even if we can recall it when remembering the event years later.
When shame follows you
What about shame that seems to come out of nowhere, for no apparent reason? Or shame that does not require an audience but seems to stalk us when we are alone?
Chronic shame does not need an active trigger or witnesses. Once we have experienced criticism, rejection or neglect in our early lives, we often internalise those. In effect we continue to be shamed, but this time it is we who are shaming ourselves. It is rarely about what is happening in our present environment and often about replaying an old relational script.
Those early experiences of being shamed may have been caused by behaviour and language used by our caregivers. Sometimes, parents, teachers and authority figures intend to shame us; sometimes they may not consciously intend it, but clumsy or negligent use of language will leave a lasting impact.
Identity vs Behaviour: Shame vs Guilt
People often ask about the difference between shame and guilt. Imagine a child in your care who is currently obsessed with splashing in puddles and has again dirtied the outfit you only just put on them.
A parent who says “Stop jumping, please. You're splashing dirt on your uniform and now we'll have to go home and wash it" is focusing on action and consequences. This teaches that the behaviour is unwanted but leaves the child’s identity unaffected. The child might experience guilt: “I did something wrong, but I’m a good person.”
A parent who says, “Look at you, you dirty child – why do you have to ruin things and be so disgusting” teaches the child that they are the problem: “I am a bad person because I made a mess.”
The child in that second scenario feels shamed, and their response might be to run away, hide or if that is not possible, to refuse eye contact or pull a hood over their face – all designed to protect from the pain of exposure. They might equally scream, slam doors or come up with another fight/defensive response – feeling angry can be easier than the pain of feeling fundamentally bad and wrong.
Often, shame hits us as adults because we carry an internalised script (the expectations of others) about what our lives “should” look like. Social media, peers, films and families all give us a lot of messages about what happy or successful lives look like and it is easy to imagine that everyone else is navigating life effortlessly.
The standard of the neurotypical ideal
This invisible standard-holding and the shaming that follows any “reality gap” against those expectations, can affect anyone. However, the impact can be even more pronounced for anyone who operates differently.
Social expectations, as a generalisation, are built around a neurotypical ideal and a neurotypical set of ideas about how people should socialise, work and “do life.” If you are neurodivergent you might face a specific and additional kind of shame about who you are and how you connect with others.
The key, of course, is that neurodivergent folk are not “unwilling to connect” but that they like to connect in different ways – ways that can feel invalidated by those for whom conventional connecting feels easy.
Shifting from self-judgement to self-compassion
So far, we have established that shame is normal, if painful, and that it serves a purpose – to keep us safe – but that it can unwittingly distort our self-worth. How do we “unshame”?
There are so many ways to understand shame, and so many brilliant writers who have spent a lifetime researching it. If you have felt paralysed by shame at any point, I would recommend investigating some of all of these authors listed at the end of this blog.
This blog is intended as an introduction-level look at some of the ideas around how to shift from self-judgement to self-compassion. Not all of them work for everyone; it is often a case of experimenting and seeing which suit you:
- Spotlight on shame: “Shame loves darkness” [4] - hence the hiding away and engineering invisibility to others. A powerful antidote to shame is simply bringing it into the light of your own awareness – being honest with yourself about feeling shame, about what triggers your shame, and what you have done so far to try to avoid the judgement of others.
- Naming the shame: When you next feel that awful wave of worthlessness, name it aloud: “My shame is running the show right now.” Identifying the emotion separates your identity from the feeling.
- Calm the body first: Focus on making your body feel safe before trying to reason yourself out of shame. Shame physically forces us to collapse, freeze, and slump our shoulders to stay invisible. To counter this, practice an open, grounded stance – not an aggressive or dominant “power pose.” Forcing yourself to mimic an artificial powerful performance can actually heighten internal threat levels. Instead, try to gently drop your shoulders, uncurl your hands, open your chest and plant both feet firmly on the floor. Allow your body to take up its natural space as you take slow, deep breaths with extended exhalations.
- Investigate the underlying beliefs: Once you are physiologically calm, analyse the belief behind the shame. When you tell yourself “I am a bad, unlovable person” ask yourself whose voice you are remembering. Most of the harsh scripts we run against ourselves belonged originally to a childhood bully, a critical parent, an unkind teacher or wider societal messages.
- Check for a payoff: It can be difficult to acknowledge, but chronic shame sometimes carries a hidden benefit: it shields us from the vulnerability of trying. If your internal voice has convinced you that you are incapable, you don’t have to try and you don’t have to risk failing. It acts as a pre-emptive strike against the fear or rejection. We all have a protective payoff hidden inside our struggles – what is yours?
- Reframe your internal messaging: Think of your adult self as a small child that has made a mistake and talk to yourself as you would to that small child. Instead of “I am a failure!,” something like “I am having a really hard time today but I am ok”
How counselling can help you reduce shame
As already mentioned, shame survives and thrives in secrecy, silence and judgement. In the counselling room, the silence is broken.
A counsellor will respond with a lack of judgement to “shameful” thoughts, feelings and behaviours. It is important to tell your shame to someone safe – it is not advised to name it to just anyone. There may well be people in your life that you can trust to reveal things to, but don’t fall into the trap of describing your shame to any random audience.
Counselling will also provide the experience of being and remaining accepted as having worth, whatever you have shared. This updates your internal wiring and, over time, you will learn that you can be fully seen and accepted, which often leads to you accepting yourself to a greater degree.
Counselling can also help you to build an internal soothing system. By staying calm with you during a shame storm, a counsellor helps you co-regulate and gradually shows your body how to step out of survival mode and return to feeling safe.
Noticing your milestones
Finally, it is important to emphasise that we must not shame ourselves for not dealing with shame quickly “enough.” Carolyn Spring, a recognised trainer on shame, advises that “it takes as long as it takes.” It is not helpful to pin a specific timescale on when you should feel less shame but it may be encouraging to look out for and notice psychological and physical milestones that tell you that you are making progress. These might include:
- Awareness: Rather than being consumed by shame, you catch yourself and notice it is present. You also begin to recognise the physical signs of shame – a tight chest, sinking stomach, etc - as a predictable nervous system response rather than a personal failure.
- Accountability: You notice a reduction in how often you shame others. Instead of criticising others when stressed, you use “I” focused language – “I am overwhelmed,” for example.
- Boundaries: You allow parts of your environment to stay messy without judging yourself, or allow yourself to rest without “earning” it
- Resilience: The “bounce back” after shame gets faster – you can soothe yourself back to an emotional balance within hours or minutes.
- Your inner voice changes: The harsh and critical internal audience is gradually replaced by a supportive tone. You no longer default to self-condemnation but to curiosity and self-compassion.
Un-shaming is not about reaching a magical day where you never feel unworthy again. It is about changing your relationship with the feeling and about no longer believing the lie that you deserve to be cast out. It is about no longer hiding, and being ok with being visible, exactly as you are.
Suggested further reading:
If you would like to explore the psychology of shame and nervous system regulation further, the following authors are just some of many who offer guidance:
- Dr Brene Brown: Daring Greatly &/or I thought it was just me (but it isn’t)
- Deb Dana: Anchored: How to befriend your nervous system using polyvagal theory
- Dr Janina Fisher: Healing the fragmented selves of trauma survivors
- Dr Paul Gilbert: The Compassionate Mind
- Carolyn Spring: Unshame
References:
- Sedighimornani, N. (2018) ‘Shame and its features: Understanding of shame.’ European Journal of Social Sciences Studies, 3(3) 75-107
- Gilbert, P (2014). ‘The origins and nature of compassion focused therapy.’ British Journal of Clinical Psychology, 53(1) 6-41
- DeYoung, P. (2015) Understanding and Treating Chronic Shame: A relational/ Neurobiological approach. New York: Routledge
- Brown, B. (2007) I thought I was just me (but it isn’t). London: Vermilion.
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash


