Guilt, Shame and Fear , livre ebook

Outskirts Press - Pamela Walker

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110 pages

English

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For years, author Pamela Walker thought she was alone. Alone in physical and emotional trauma. Alone in substance addiction. And then she realized the most powerful of understandings: that none of us are truly alone. We all know sadness, shame, guilt, and fear; we have probably experienced poor coping strategies, sometimes without even realizing it; and we all could use some true healing.

Walker wrote Guilt, Shame and Fear: The Catalyst of Spirituality to release her own pain and give glory to her higher power—and to help others face and then see past their own weaknesses and pain.

Sujets

Vie de famille

Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux

Fracture familiale

Prayer

Spiritual

Healing

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Publié par	Outskirts Press
Date de parution	11 février 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781977261922
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-9772-5860-1

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

This book is dedicated, first, to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for without Him, nothing is possible. To my wonderful, tolerant, and understanding husband, Mr. Ronney Walker, Sr., who has stood by my side even when I did not deserve it. He has been my knight in shining armor from day one, even while I was the thorn in his side. Thank you, honey. To my mom, who has been my inspiration, my confidant, and a perfect example of patience and understanding. To my son, Darryl Jones, whom I am so blessed to have—the best son ever whose struggles with mental health and addiction are not unlike my own, and we both know that God has the last word. To my grandchildren, Ke’shannah, Tondie, and Jay, who have given me a reason to become a better me. Finally, to my father, John B. Jones II, for showing me so much love, even without saying the words; rest peacefully, Dedda.

tABLE OF CONtENtS

Preface From Innocence to Shame From Shame to Humiliation The Gift of Rejection The Journey Toward Spiritual Bankruptcy Will the Pain Ever End? This Kind of Love Is ...... And Then, God Sent Him The Little Girl in Me The Beginning of the End The Spiritual Journey No More Shame Living with Guilt From the Pages of Thought Fear and Anxiety, the Last to Go The Product of the Catalysts—Spirituality His Kind of Love

i 1 5 16 21 27 33 35 40 43 48 52 56 65 81 90 97

W PREFACE

CHANGEISIMMINENT,whether it’s good or bad, whether we like it or not. As much as we try our damnedest to stop it or at least control it, we cannot stop change from occurring, but more importantly, change is necessary. I am convinced through my own life experiences that those who make up our surroundings, including family, friends, coworkers, or even a stranger, have the potential to significantly alter who we are mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. However, the further I got into recounting some of my childhood memories for the purpose of this book, the more I realized that there may have been another reason for the consequential change in me, in addition to the human surround-ings, that played a role in the manifestation of feelings of insecurity and unworthiness. I may have been born with the particularly chal-lenging inability to stay focused that caused me to be insecure. I would often find myself focusing on other things while I was supposed to be learning in the classroom or having a general conversation with others. Is it possible the feelings I had of insecurity and low self-worth were misdirected? Is it possible that it was all in my head that the people in my circle, close friends or not-so-close friends and family, were to be

blamed for the way I turned out? Maybe. All that said, I do believe that most people we meet are quite in-spiring in their own way as well as positive. The people we meet will inspire us to be kind, understanding, unselfish, and motivated. But what about the undercurrent? What about the dark side of these poten-tially valuable entities? The dark side, as my niece Sharmaine referred to it, sums up what I have gained from this group for the most part, or at least that is how I felt about it during my childhood and well into adulthood. I realize that some of us get bored with details that we be-lieve are far removed from the real issues, but, at least in my case, the problems began in my childhood, far removed from the moment in my life when I realized the many emotional challenges I faced later in my life. It is always important to get to the root of any trauma, so bear with me through my childhood stories. Growing up I was always nervous about being around more than one person at a time because I felt like the more people that were around me, the bigger the chance was that someone would notice that I was different. I didn’t want them to tease me or talk about me amongst each other so I was always apprehensive about opening my mouth to join a conversation, knowing that I may say something that might have nothing to do with the conversation because I could not keep up with the conversation sometimes or I felt that my contribution didn’t add anything of value to the conversation. I wanted to be a part of the group, but I didn’t want to participate in the group, if that makes sense.

Here he comes again. Why does he keep making me do something I do not want to do? I don’t want to do this. Why don’t they like me? I want to be friends with them. I want to be smart like the girls with pretty barrettes.

I hear the loud, angry voice coming from the room again. Then, knocking and banging as if someone was being hurt badly. There were only two people inside the room. I know who the victim is.

She was being beaten. The violence I hear makes me afraid for the victim. I want to comfort her, the little girl thought. She went into the room when he left and hugged the victim; she could see that the woman had been crying, but all she could do to comfort her was ask her, “Do you want me to get you some water?” The little girl told the victim she had a dream in which she had seen the abuser in a casket, but she lied. She had a conscious thought of him in a casket. The little girl knew then that she would never provoke any-one to beat her. Little did she know that her life would take her down the very same violent road of physical abuse.

I began to realize that my feelings did not matter. People could hurt me. I did not trust them. I had experienced how mean they could be. I began to fear the humiliation and physical harm they could impose upon me, and because I feared being the victim of these things, it was impossible for me to fit in. I would stay in my corner unnoticed, wish-ing they liked me, but strangely I did not like them. I felt I was better than them because I would never treat others as I felt they treated me. I thought they were mean, and they thought I was crazy. Later in my life they thought I was nothing but a crackhead, they thought I was insignificant. As it turns out, so did I. From the time I was about eleven or twelve, I was convinced that I should be afraid of what others thought about me because if they did not like me, I would be left out of the conversation. I would often no-tice that people gave each other a side glance as if to say, “What is she talking about?” I would get nervous among those I was not comfortable with or if the person who was speaking spoke too long, I may lose fo-cus and respond incorrectly making my response sometimes confusing, sometimes it was humiliating. I blamed others for not being under-standing and labeling me as crazy. This has been the case throughout my life but today I have learned that before I leave any conversation I am sure to question whether or not I had been understood, having

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notes helps me tremendously. I was convinced that I was not as good as everyone else. I was convinced that I was not pretty enough or smart enough to be a part of them without being ridiculed. A quote from American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist Maya Angelou comes to mind: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” It only took one family member to start the dimming of the sun and to take me into the dark side. I turned to alcohol and drugs to help me feel good about myself and to be able to feel comfortable in my own skin. Ultimately, drugs and alcohol became my masters, effectuating another point of darkness for me. I was mocked, judged, and openly ridiculed by mostly women. I was beaten by men. I was comforted by none. All of this was initiated by one person—my uncle—and maintained by many. Anger, resent-ment, shame, guilt, and humiliation became significant components in my long battle with my fears. As we go through life, we find ourselves searching for ways and things to manage or outright deny our fears. Drugs and alcohol were the things for me, denial came in the form of displaced emotions. I had become so fearful of the humiliation and shame people could inflict upon me that I would shy away from defending myself from all the rude and mean comments that came my way. The fear got worse as the years went by. I experienced panic attacks whenever I was confront-ed by someone, even as far back as elementary school. It is difficult to act tough when you are afraid, but I did just that—I acted. On the flip side of the coin, it takes courage to react to any perceived danger in spite of fear. I realize now that God had blessed me with courage even back then. Another prong in my story is the fact that “hurt people, hurt peo-ple.” What about the shit I did to others? What about how I made them feel? You see, after so many years, even though I was hurting, it did not give me a pass to inflict the same shit on others. The thing I