Shame and Eggs

My apartment building is hosting a grab ‘n go brunch in the business center this morning. Right down the hall from me. 10:30 am – 12:30 pm.

The property managers sent me a reminder email. I read it at 11:30 am. Which meant only an hour left.

And my brain is off and running:

Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. That’s so nice! I should go take a look.

No, I can’t go. I would need to get dressed and brush my teeth.

Yes, so? You can do that.

But my hair…

Your hair looks beautiful. What else?

Um…I really don’t want to go.

Yes, you do.

No, I’m afraid.

What are you afraid of?

What if they see me taking food?

Wait, really? Because they invited you. For food.

But they will see I’m fat. They will think I’m taking too much. That I am taking too long while others are waiting.

And then I’ll want coffee with the hazelnut cream. And they will think I’m a really big schnorr (that’s Yiddish for a mooch).

AHA! There it is. There’s the thing.

SHAME.

Yep, it’s Shame. Again. Stopping me from doing something I would really like to do, especially when other people will be there.

SHAME.

You are making me feel bad about myself JUST BY THINKING ABOUT GOING!

SHAME.

I am sitting here feeling so miserable. Feeling like I did something wrong, when I haven’t done anything yet!

SHIFT.

But you know what? Hell no, Shame! Today is the perfect day to start breaking up with you. I have new tools to help me love myself and to start dealing with you.

I recognize you there, tightening my chest and my squeezing my throat.

You’ve taught me well how to duck out of things I might enjoy because you, Shame, don’t want me to show myself.

But, now, I know I won’t melt and I won’t die just because you are following me around. And I know I can do the hard things, like going about my life doing the things I desire to do, even while I still feel you there.

So, feel free to stick around if you want, Shame, but…

I’M GOING FOR BRUNCH.