Shame

When I first started, my boss was gregarious, welcoming and incredibly proud of the team she managed. Professionally, I had just qualified with a Masters in Social Work. Personally, I had not long separated from my first husband. I was scared of being single so had quickly jumped into a rebound relationship to cushion the blow. Which meant there was a lot of unresolved loss and grief lurking. Inexperience and raw vulnerability. How fabulous.

The first time that I remember feeling something was not right was during a conversation she had with me in her office. It turned out that I was naturally drawn to working with older people with alcohol misuse issues. Of which there were many. Particularly older, tough men who had worked in heavy industry all of their lives and slide into heavy alcohol use when they retired from this daily structure and routine. Most were recently bereaved with health and mobility issues so experiencing multiple whammy loss. Except very few allowed themselves to grieve these losses, often not knowing how and so looked to alcohol to heal them.

I connected well with these individuals. I had a stickability factor even in those early days which meant I just hung in there in the relationship. When some one was telling me to fuck off or denying they had an alcohol problem (when their imminent eviction from their tenancy suggested otherwise). I just stuck in and the relationship developed. I considered I was then able to help this person to consider other more positive options.

Yet this day, my boss suggested something else. She said that one of the older, male workers would always have more success working with these 'guys' than "a wee lassie". My head felt heavy and I struggled to respond. I have found that there are certain people who can do that to me. It feels like my brain is foggy and I can't think of anything to say.

Other comments followed. My boss had favourites within the team. I began to learn that I was not a favourite. In a team meeting, a former member of the team (a favourite) visited. In reference to me, my boss said, 'and Cath is still the loudest member of the team'. I could feel myself freeze. Being called loud instantly makes me become smaller.

I was fortunate that I had another team leader who directly managed me. She nurtured me and suggested that I study the gaps in service provision. She encouraged me as I completed my Masters dissertation studying the experiences of practitioners working with older adults with alcohol misuse issues. I think I was able to make positive changes. I developed links with the substance misuse team, I worked with some good people and we organised age specific training so that workers would understand the type of losses that older people were experiencing. Then they would be better able to support people.

I co-wrote a journal article on my research findings, I delivered a lunch-time seminar which the director attended. He was really supportive and wrote about my work in a book on effective leadership amongst front line practitioners. He offered to look at the possibility of funding a phd. My tutor, who I co-wrote the article with. wanted us to collaborate in a larger piece of research.

Reflecting on this now, I think I kicked ass. I can see that I had several people who believed in me and were encouraging me. However, I began to lack confidence. I began to feel like I was showing off. I began to feel intimidated and overwhelmed by the offer of studying at phd level, at the offer of doing a large research study. And so I left. I went to another smaller local authority. Whilst there were other factors in this decision, I also think I went where I would n't feel like I was showing off.

I saw this boss a while after leaving that post. She paused then said "Ah Cath Shaw, the drunkest person at one of our Christmas parties". I felt myself become smaller.

During the night out she was talking about, I had become so drunk on fizzy red wine that I had to be put to bed early. This followed accidentally hitting some one during an overenthusiastic Strip The Willow before insisting on trying to go on stage to sing my Gaelic mode song (I vaguely remember feeling the celidh band who were playing were not as good as me). Fairly standard Christmas party stuff.

However, in my continued need for approval and validation, I hoped, in that initial pause, that she was going to comment positively on the work I had done within the team.

Last month I rewatched the Netflix documentary The Call to Courage by Queen Brene Brown. She described shame as the most powerful master emotion as it is the fear that we are not good enough. And suddenly, I remembered my boss's comment about how drunk I was. And I recognised my shame.

I have been reading about shame every since. One description which resonated was that it is an incapacitating emotion that is accompanied by the feeling of being small, inferior and of 'shrinking'. Shit. That describes my brain fog, the sense of becoming smaller.

I wrote a draft of this a while ago. Then felt too scared to finish it. I doubted myself, I minimised my feelings. I questioned the validity of what I was saying and that it was not very open hearted towards my first boss. I have felt great resistance to finishing this. I guess all the more reason to finish it. #daringgreatly #choosinglight #braveasfuck.