Shame doesn’t descend fully formed. It creeps in like a cold front, subtle

Shame doesn’t descend fully formed. It creeps in like a cold front, subtle at first — a comment, a smirk, a correction too sharp for its context.

For me, early shame came from small moments: • being told I spoke too boldly • realizing my clothes looked cheaper than the others’ • discovering classmates understood jokes I didn’t • hearing adults dismiss my curiosity as naïve or precocious

Shame taught me to be cautious. To pre-edit my thoughts. To soften statements. To offer counterpoints before opinions. To shrink, sometimes, before I even knew I was shrinking.

I’ve spent decades unwinding that weather system.