Smashed Up Against The Looking Glass: A Shame Journey

Shame is one of the most powerful and invisible forces shaping our lives. Unlike guilt, which says “I did something bad,” shame whispers “I am bad.” It is corrosive, persistent, and often handed down through families like an unspoken heirloom.

As a therapist in Vancouver specializing in deep-dive therapy for shame and attachment wounds, I see every day how shame burrows into identity, relationships, and even self-worth. I also know this terrain personally—I grew up inside a family where silence, grief, and unprocessed trauma planted shame in ways that took decades to untangle.

Generational Shame: The Family Legacy

Generational shame often begins before us. It is carried in our parents’ nervous systems, absorbed from their own childhoods, and unconsciously passed forward. When children grow up in environments where grief is unspoken, emotions are punished, or perfection is demanded, shame takes root.

In my own life, my family endured the tragic loss of my two-year-old sister. At four years old, I not only carried survivor’s guilt but also absorbed the unprocessed grief and silent blame that saturated the household. No one talked about the loss. That silence became a form of shame—“We do not speak of this. We do not feel this. Something about me must be wrong.” Anything taboo can become a source of shame.

Psychologist Gershen Kaufman (1992) describes shame as “the source of low self-esteem, alienation, and a fragmented sense of self.” When a family cannot metabolize pain, it becomes shame, and the next generation carries the unspoken weight.

Attachment Shame: “Too Much” or “Not Enough”

Attachment theory reminds us that our earliest bonds teach us whether our needs are safe to express (Bowlby, 1988). When caregivers respond with rejection, criticism, or unpredictability, children internalize the belief that their very being is defective.

This is attachment shame—the painful sense of being “too much” or “not enough” for love.

The infant who cries but is left unattended learns: “My needs are shameful.”

The child who excels but is never praised absorbs: “Nothing I do is ever enough.” Or, sometimes the opposite occurs and the child becomes an adult who only feels acceptable through achievements.

The teenager who dares to be authentic but is mocked learns: “Who I am is wrong.”

In my own journey authenticity felt unsafe, but pretending felt like self-betrayal. I often felt existential shame for simply being alive when my sister was tragically killed in a car accident at 2 years old.

Many of my Vancouver therapy clients echo this exact wound: they long for closeness but carry the shame of being unworthy of it.

Erratic Parenting and Shame-Based Behavior

Children learn who they are by looking into the mirror of their caregivers. When the mirror is consistent and responsive, they develop a sense of worth. But when the mirror is erratic—sometimes warm, sometimes cold, sometimes safe, sometimes punishing—the child grows up confused about their own lovability.

Erratic parenting sends a double message:

“You are welcome when you please me.”

“You are unacceptable when you upset me.”

Because children cannot risk losing their caregivers, they turn inward: “The problem must be me. I am too much. I am not enough. I am bad.”

Over time, this leads to shame-based behaviors such as:

Hyper-vigilance in relationships (constantly scanning for rejection)

Fawning and people-pleasing (smoothing over conflict)

Perfectionism and high achievement (striving to prove worthiness)

Emotional suppression (hiding needs to avoid being “too much”)

Loneliness and isolation (withdrawing rather than risk exposure)

Donald Winnicott (1965) described how a “false self” forms when children adapt excessively to their caregivers’ needs. This false self is a survival strategy built on shame: “If I hide the real me, maybe I’ll be safe.”

Shame as the Hidden Engine

Shame rarely shows itself directly. Instead, it disguises itself in patterns that look like strength or control but are actually ways to outrun unworthiness:

Narcissism

Beneath the armor of narcissism lies shame. When a child’s authentic self is consistently rejected, they may construct a false self—polished, superior, untouchable—to protect the vulnerable, shamed parts inside (Kohut, 1977; Kernberg, 1984).

High Achievement

Many high achievers are propelled not just by passion but by shame. The inner voice whispers: “If I do enough, achieve enough, shine enough, maybe I will finally be acceptable.” Achievements become survival strategies—proof of worthiness. But the relief fades quickly, leaving the old shame intact.

Loneliness

Ironically, shame often isolates. If we believe we are unworthy, we hide our truest selves, fearing exposure. Others may admire the mask but cannot touch the person beneath it. This leads to profound loneliness—the kind that persists even in a crowded room or a loving partnership.

The Double Bind of Shame

Shame thrives in contradictions. You reach out for connection but fear rejection. You try to speak your truth but anticipate being silenced. If you express, you risk judgment; if you hide, you lose yourself.

Gregory Bateson (1972), who studied double binds in family systems, noted how these paradoxes entrap people in “no-win” loops. In my practice, I often see shame as the fuel behind this stuckness: the fear that whichever way you turn you will expose your unworthiness.

Healing shame.

The good news is that shame, while powerful, is not permanent. Healing often begins in relationships that can hold both our vulnerability and our strength without judgment.

Naming the shame: Brené Brown (2012) notes that shame cannot survive being spoken. When we name it, we loosen its grip.

It is essential to have a believing mirror or witness so you are no longer alone in it and receive validation.

It is important to learn how to be with the shame, not in it! This is often referred to as unblending.

Re-parenting the self: Through somatic therapy, IFS (Internal Family Systems), and relational depth work, we learn to extend compassion to the exiled parts of ourselves that carry shame.

Creating safe containers: Authenticity grows when there is safety to risk it. In therapy, new templates of attachment emerge.

In my Vancouver counselling practice, I’ve witnessed people reclaim their right to exist fully—not as caretakers, achievers, or silent survivors, but as whole human beings.

Closing Thought

Shame is not a personal flaw. It is a relational wound, most often planted long before us. When we begin to see it as something carried, not created, we can lay it down. And in doing so, we interrupt the inheritance of shame and plant something different for the generations that follow.

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