Shame Eater

The voices in my head today are dark. You are worthless. You are a failure. You don’t matter. I hate you. You have no value. You suck. You are no good at anything. You fail at everything you do. Why do you even bother? You are hopeless. It is never getting better. You are a piece of shit. I listen but don’t bite. It becomes difficult to be detached as the darker feelings that go with these thoughts begin to rise from the depths of my being. I really don’t want to feel this. I finally lay down and ask myself who needs my attention……

Shame. She is a small child hunched over sitting on the ground. Her knees are pulled tight to her chest and she is rocking back and forth murmuring something only she can hear. Her face is impossible to see because it is pressed so tightly to her knees. Her hair is unkept, greasy and falls haphazardly over her face. She is darkness personified. She is a black spot in a black place. I place a soft fuzzy pink compassion blanket around her shoulders and sit next to her. I place my arm around her shoulders and listen to what she murmurs. She is the dark voices in my head. It makes me sad to listen to her. She really loathes herself. Does she not know how much she is loved? I place my head next to hers and I tell her I am so sorry. I am so sorry you were treated so shabbily by so many people. This shakes me to the very core and I cry for the grief of it all. I am so sorry. I keep repeating this until she stops sobbing. She finally looks up a little bit. Lifting her head to finally look at me. I look her in the eye asking her what do you need. How can I help? Complete and total disbelief washes over her face. No one has ever asked her before. I am a shame eater, she says. An image comes. I see her shoveling black goo into her mouth. They can’t hold their shame so they dump it on her to eat it. Would you like to do something else? Eat other things? I ask. Again, awe and surprise wash over her face. I can do something else? she repeats, in complete awe. I nod and stand up. Reaching out my hand, I pull her up to a standing position. God, I say out loud. She no longer wants to be a shame eater. It is making her sick. It needs to stop now. It is time for her to have a different job. Looking at her I pause to determine what would be an awesome job for her. Something that she would really enjoy. In the spur of the moment, I announce, She will have NO job. She will DO nothing. She will just BE and that is enough. Once my announcement is completes she stands beside me, coverd in black goo. She needs a bath. A small shower begins to pour over the top of her. The blackness begins to wash away until nothing but a bright light beautiful child stands before me. She is luminous. She is my light. Placing my arm out toward her in an offering, I open my hand. In my hand is a small honey bee. The bee flies out of my hand landing on her shoulder. The bee will bee your friend, I tell her and we both giggle.