My husband's a pediatrician, so he and I talk about parenting all the time. You can't raise children who have more shame resilience than you do.
In many ways, September feels like the busiest time of the year: The kids go back to school, work piles up after the summer's dog days, and Thanksgiving is suddenly upon us.
Anonymous comments? You're not in the arena, man. If you can't say it to me in person in front of my kids, don't say it.
You cannot talk about race without talking about privilege. And when people start talking about privilege, they get paralyzed by shame.
We use work to numb out. We can't turn off our machines because we're afraid we're going to miss something.
If I feel good about my parenting, I have no interest in judging other people's choices. If I feel good about my body, I don't go around making fun of other people's weight or appearance. We're hard on each other because we're using each other as a launching pad out of our own perceived deficiency.
Normally, when someone we love is turning away from a struggle, we self-protect by also turning away. That's definitely my first response. I think change is more likely to happen if both partners have common language and a shared lens to see problems.
Shame is the most powerful, master emotion. It's the fear that we're not good enough.
For me, the opposite of scarcity is not abundance. It's enough. I'm enough. My kids are enough.
The intention and outcome of vulnerability is trust, intimacy and connection. The outcome of oversharing is distrust, disconnection -- and usually a little judgment.
You're imperfect, and you're wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.
Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.
When the people we love stop paying attention, trust begins to slip away and hurt starts seeping in.
It's hard to practice compassion when we're struggling with our authenticity or when our own worthiness is off-balance.