Episode 61 -- November 12, 2020

We all bring shame to the table as we walk through our recovery. Some of our shame stems from our own actions, perhaps something that happened just today, and some of it comes from trauma we experienced years ago, forced onto us by other people or circumstances. Jennifer Storm, in her book Awakening Blackout Girl: A Survivor's Guide for Healing from Addiction and Sexual Trauma, brings us along on her journey through trauma and recovery, showing us how shame has shaped her experiences through it all—and still today. She reminds us that even though we will make mistakes and need to make amends again and again in life, we don't have to let shame control us.

It has been edited for brevity.

The holidays this past year were amazing but also hectic. We made a spontaneous decision to get a puppy, and our foster daughter, Tea, had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy, Riley, officially making us grandparents. Tea, who now lives with her boyfriend, and the baby came to stay with us for a few days. While she was here, we had to take my four-year-old son, Victor, to the emergency room to get his first (of what I am sure will be many) stitches. In short, things were a bit stressful.

On Tea and Riley's third night with us, I was sitting on the couch holding the baby while Tea was in the shower. My wife had taken the puppy out for a walk, so I was also watching Victor. He was both jealous of the baby and very intrigued. Both Victor's interest in Riley and his energy were in high gear. I had to keep correcting him: "No, Victor, you cannot jump on the couch when I am holding the baby." "No, Victor, he is not ready for your stuffed animal to be shoved in his face." "No, Victor, I cannot come play with you. I am holding the baby."

Just as I got the baby soothed enough to fall sleep, Victor walked over and opened both the front door and the screen door, sending a burst of cold air through the house. I quietly asked, "Victor, what are you doing? Honey, close the door." He gave me a childlike look that communicated he was too wound up to listen to reasonable instructions. I thought, "Oh boy. Here we go."

I tried a more stern response: "Victor, close the door. Riley is sleeping, and it's freezing out."

"No!" Victor responded, full of defiance.

My voice elevated. "Victor, close the door!"

"NO!"

He screamed and proceeded to walk to the back door and also open that door wide open. Then he stormed back to me as cold air began to fill the house and once again screamed, "NO!"

I lost my shit.

Exactly what happened is a little blurry. From what I recall, I stood up, still holding the sleeping baby, and proceeded to scream my head off at my son. Of course, Victor began to cry.

As soon as Victor started crying, the baby did as well. Then I realized what a maniac I had become. My rational mind kicked in, and I knew that yelling at a child does nothing but give you a hoarse voice and a boatload of guilt and shame. It does nothing to change the behavior or teach the child anything.

I closed both doors and told Victor to go to his room. Tea was done with her shower, so I gave the baby to her and went into my own room to calm down a bit. I was filled with shame.

How could I have done that? What is wrong with me? I am a horrible mother. I am a horrible person. Why would I yell at that little person I love so dearly?

Eventually, my wife came into the room. She knew something was seriously wrong, so she proceeded carefully. I looked up, tears streaming down my face, and I started unloading all the horrible things I was saying to myself.

She held me for a while until I was coherent enough to explain what happened. By then, I knew what I had to do next. I needed to apologize to my son. I went into his room and saw that he had already stopped crying and was playing with some toys. He sheepishly looked up at me. He knew he had done wrong. I began a gentle conversation about why he opened the doors, why Mommy asked him to close them, and why I got so upset when he refused to listen. Then, I apologized for yelling. I explained to him that I lost my temper, I was not proud of it, and I was sorry. I told him that I should have responded differently, and we then discussed his part of the ordeal. It was not okay to open doors when it was freezing and dark out, and it was not okay to choose not to listen to Mommy. He then offered an apology as well.

I got into bed that night covered in shame. I was glad I had made amends with Victor, but I hated how I responded. I hated that I got so frustrated and felt so powerless that I felt the need to yell at him. I began googling "yelling at children." This did not help my emotional state. Don't do that.

Then my wife and I had a really good conversation. We went through all of the things I could have done differently, how I could have engaged his defiance differently without losing my shit and thus losing any hope of a teachable moment for me or Victor. I then had to grapple with the very real fact that I am human. I make mistakes. And that is okay. I went to bed with a whole lot less shame and more understanding.

This incident is a great example both of how much I have grown in my recovery and of how even those of us who have been working on ourselves for more than twenty years will make mistakes. If something like this had happened twenty years ago, I would have been up all night beating myself up. Back then, I didn't have the tools to process the incident, to make amends, or to speak openly and humbly with another person about my actions. This is the power of shame. If we let it, it will beat us up and beat us down. If we don't address it and extinguish it at its source, it can control us.

About the Author:
Jennifer Storm is a survivor, author, advocate, and internationally recognized victims' rights expert with more than twenty years of experience. Storm has worked many high-profile cases, including helping victims of Jerry Sandusky, Bill Cosby, Catholic clergy, and thousands of others. She serves as a content expert on victims' rights in the media and tours the country sharing her experiences, including frequent live and taped appearances on all major networks. Storm has four additional publications: Blackout Girl: Tracing My Scars from Addiction and Sexual Assault, Leave the Light On: A Memoir of Recovery and Self-Discovery, Picking Up the Pieces without Picking Up, and Echoes of Penn State. She is also working on a documentary based on Blackout Girl to help carry the message of addiction, victimization, and trauma. Storm resides in Camp Hill, Pennsylvania, with her wife, Fianne, and their adopted son, Victor.

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