When Did Shame Talk Take Root?

Back-to-school hit me like a ton of bricks.

Gals, my daughter (Raisa) started seventh grade this year. Buh-bye grade-school. Hello, Middle School!

She was as cool as a cucumber, while I on the other hand, tried like hell to play it cool, in spite of the whirling dervish spinning in my stomach.

Middle School, you guys. MIDDLE SCHOOL.

The birthplace of not-enough-ness and too-much-ness.  Where I met shame, self-loathing, doubt and fear-of-being-seen for the first time. Where I felt those first frantic pangs of NEEDING to fit in… or else.

Watching the movie, 8th Grade, didn’t help. (Have you seen the movie? Omg, I was gutted for that sweet girl AND her daddy!)

I’ve worked with women long enough to know that some of the most influential AND destructive thought patterns were born in Middle School.

“Who do you think you are?”
“You’re too loud / too quiet / too big / too much / too little…”
“You’re trying too hard.”
“You look like a clown.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“You can’t pull that off.”
“Everyone’s looking at you.”

Those sound about right for Middle School maturity, right? And yet… how many of those nasty-grams are still taking up space in your head?

I call those voices “JIBLETS”, and they’re hella powerful, until we name ‘em and tame ‘em.

The movie got me thinking about Raisa, and what’s still ahead of her, and reminded me that MIDDLE SCHOOL is where so many of my own shame stories began.

Like this one...

Up until a few years ago, I hated polka-dots. I NEVER wore them. I thought polka dots were silly and ridiculous.

Then one day… while I was doing “the work” of Style School, a memory popped into my mind:

I’m in 9th grade, wearing a navy blue sweater with white polka dots.  It’s my birthday, and I’m bee-boppin’ out of school, toting a balloon bouquet and a bunch of flowers. 

In that happy, carefree moment of birthday bliss, someone called me a clown.

I was leveled. I wanted to disappear. I stripped off those polka dots, and by golly, I NEVER wore them again.

Wait a minute. WAS THAT THE DAY I STARTED HATING POLKA DOTS??  

Could it be that I didn't HATE polka dots? I feared them?? 
Did I fear polka dots because I LOVED them?
Did I interpret that comment to mean I was a CLOWN if I liked polka dots? (We all know CLOWNS are NOT part of the “in” circle!)

Did I really break up with polka dots (for 25 years!!) because of some lame-ass comment somebody made to me when I was 14 years old?!!?

Yes. Yes, I did.

And polka-dots were just the beginning. Gradually, I broke up with my sense of inner knowing about who I was, what I liked and and what I felt I deserved, including feeling good in my own body.

After this grand polka dot epiphany, and many more like it, guess what I did? I went out and bought all the damn polka-dots. Turns out they make me feel HAPPY! Fun! Alive! Whimsical! (And not one bit like a clown.)

My curiosity piqued, I started unpacking more of my body-shame stories. Sweet Nelly. No wonder I hid my body.

And when I asked my Style Sisters to recall their earliest, painful memories around body/clothes, the details varied, but several themes surfaced time and again:

Boobs. Too big boobs. No boobs. The hiding of the boobs. 
Pink. Too girly. Too soft. The break-up with “girl-colors".
Arms. Too big arms. Skinny arms. The hiding of the arms.
Hair. Too short. You look like a boy. The growing of the hair.
Thighs. Too big thighs. Cellulite-y thighs. The hiding of the thighs. 
Height. Too tall. The schlumping of the shoulders.
Fat. Too fat. Body hatred. Dieting. Disordered eating. The obsession with the scale.

Maybe you learned "the rules" vicariously. Even if you weren’t the target, you heard, you saw. Shame is contagious like that.

It may have been the “cool” kids, a sibling, your aunt, or worst of all, a parent, who authored the story, but it’s both sobering, and empowering, to realize that YOU are the only one keeping that story alive 10, 15, or 30 years later. 

And THIS is why I hear over and over that Style School is "the best thing I've ever done for myself".

Why the words, "it's not about the clothes!", are an ongoing epiphany zinging through class participants, especially during week 1 and 2.

I'm guessing you get dressed every day. And I know this much is true: the simple act of getting dressed is powerful.

You can literally put on a deep sense of self-acceptance, self-knowing, self-trust, and a sense of worthiness that will fuel your day, impacting every area of your life.

It's deeply personal. It's a body/soul reunion. I call it Inside-Out Congruency, and when you align the truth of who YOU are on the inside, with the way you show up in the world, it feels like a home-coming.

When and where have you made intentional space in your life to explore all of your limiting beliefs, planted in middle school?

Letting go of those old stories is MEGA work, but let me tell you, it tastes like freedom.

Ask me how I know!  ;)

My guess is that you have more than ONE soul-crushing story that got planted inside YOUR head, way back in middle school or high school, that you’re STILL carrying around with you today

It’s not too late to lay that story down, and write a new one. 

It's time to do you, sisters.  Always do you.

But you have to KNOW you to do you.

xo Stasia