Shame is a word that only recently entered my lexicon and took up residence in my frontal lobe. Or so I thought. According to a friend and psychologist, I have lived with shame most of my life. In fact, she told me it is one of the most pervasive of my unwanted mental guests. 

Once introduced, I began to remember more and more moments when we had shared an afternoon, a party, even a bed. Turns out, shame had been squatting in several of those dark rooms I hadn’t wanted to enter.  But i think I am done now, and its time this squatter was evicted.  And pronto. 

Working with shame to clear out old memories, made me realize the possibility that maybe, I hadn’t invited shame into my life, but rather, that I had inherited this unwanted tenant from my mother. A scary prospect because it opened the possibility that if I didn’t face it head on, I would be passing on an unpleasant, and un paying guest to my own daughter.