when shame comes to play
I wonder if my heart is pocked with sunken potholes, oozing thick streams of disappointment and chaos.
Shame came to play again, tossing negative thoughts like a ball against the walls of my mind. Maybe my strength is dwindling, or maybe, it was never strength at all.
I’m curious about what my heart looks like to God. Is it caked with dirt, like a potato freshly pulled from the earth ready for consumption? Is it soft, or has it hardened, impenetrable to anything outside of itself?
I wonder if my heart is pocked with sunken potholes, oozing thick streams of disappointment and chaos.
I wonder if my heart looks pretty, or if it’s just another organ, only good for its intended use — to keep me alive.
I wonder if my heart knows that even though it beats, I still feel empty inside sometimes.
Shame is a weighted blanket woven from embarrassment and guilt, resting heavily on the heart and offering a false sense of security.
The first time I felt shame was at very young age and after that initial encounter, it came to play more often. Sometimes it arrived in different disguises, making it difficult to recognize.
Over time, I learned to ignore it, even when it danced at a distance—far enough that it wasn’t in my way but close enough to catch in my peripheral vision.
Shame hovered. It became the umbrella hanging limply at my side as I walked beneath life’s dark grey skies—the threat of rain always present.
Now, when shame comes to play, I am met with the sobering reality that I am flawed beyond understanding. How I wish it were easy to be righteous.
Despite my human struggles, I like to believe I’m doing my best to keep shame at bay, but I know that in my own strength I will always fall short.
Lord, forgive me, for I know not what I do, what I think, or what I feel. Help me turn my focus back to you. You are all I want to see.
-k.a.
Fear not; you will no longer live in shame. Don’t be afraid; there is no more disgrace for you. You will no longer remember the shame of your youth and the sorrows of widowhood.
Isaiah 54:4, NLT
Authors Note:
I’ve been going back and forth about whether to post anything this week. I haven’t felt myself. Out of desperation and sorrow, I took a 4-day hiatus out of state for this reason. I couldn’t bring myself to care for anything other than my own well-being. I’ll write more about my mental rebuilding in another post, as I’m still very much under construction.
Writing definitely wasn’t at the top of my list this week. In fact, it wasn’t even on the list at all. I was convinced that I wasn’t going to write for awhile, but I also didn’t like the feeling of giving up. I didn’t want my circumstances to take that away from me too.
Regardless, God is still good. He always has been and He always will be. I’m solid living-proof of that.
Newsletter Spotlight:
I haven’t read much on this platform since taking my hiatus but
’s Discarded really brought me joy. I’m here for all the Stephen King content. King’s memoir, On Writing, gives a lot more insight on his writing life and it’s easily become one of my favorite books.Authors Note to the Authors Note:
Hi there, If you’ve read this far, know that I am extremely impressed and flattered by you. If you would like to support my writing, you can buy me a tea or a book or a virtual hug.
If donations aren’t your thing that’s cool, I feel it. You can also share the love by clicking the restack button. That’s just as important and meaningful and kind.
As always, thank you for reading!
Jesus loves you.
This is so beautifully articulated. Please don’t ever stop writing 😫
Thank you for opening yourself up in this way Kiana. I hope your time with self is blessed 🙏🏽
Grateful my post made its way to you as well.