Shame Survives Success, Until It Doesn’t

I was just blessed with an observation that reminded me why I do this work. Accidentally, while scrolling through my feed on Social Media, I stumbled upon a client I was working with some time ago. Naturally, I watched the little clip, and my eyes and ears almost fell out.

I know a lot of people expect transformation to look like fireworks. 

They describe it as a breakthrough; they are waiting for a flood of tears and a sudden burst of confidence the moment they leave the session.
They expect a miracle to just arrive for them and divide their life into "before" and "after."

Sometimes those moments happen. I've witnessed clients baffled and confused, as their brain is not yet catching up, and say, "What just happened? I can't even find that feeling anymore."

Those moments are wonderful for them and for me.

But they are not the important part.

The real proof usually arrives much later, mostly when nobody is looking, not even themselves.

Over the years, one thing has become crystal clear to me: shame survives success. Effortlessly. You can collect all the praise and validation in the world. Shame still leans over and whispers, "Shush."

What I just observed was success without the silent critic on the shoulder. She has always been highly successful. That was never the problem. The problem was invisible.

Success and shame had been living side by side. From the outside, almost nobody would have noticed. But when you've worked closely with someone, you learn to recognize the tiny signs. I have the privilege to see my people when they don't have to monitor their every word, when they are just being with me, working on their thing, without make-up. Sometimes I barely recognize the person walking into the second or third session. 

Like her, watching her now, with a decent amount of time passed, I didn't see a more polished version of the same person. I saw someone who had stopped interrupting herself. She wasn't trying to sound clever. She wasn't trying to earn the audience. She wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone anymore.

She was simply there.

Talking about her work.
Sharing her thoughts.
Being completely herself.

I doubt she even noticed the difference.

Why would she and why should she?

From the inside, it probably just felt like another interview.

But from the outside, it was unmistakable.

It was like watching someone finally put down a heavy backpack. It looked so natural, so grounded, without any theatrics.

And I was looking at her, tearing up, and all I could think of was:
"There you are. There you are!"

We spend an awful lot of time trying to become more self-confident.

Confidence has become a billion-dollar industry. But maybe that's the wrong selling point.

Competence is something we build. The more often we do something, the more confident we become at doing it.

Self-confidence may be different.

Maybe it isn't something we build at all.

Maybe it's simply what remains once shame, fear, and years of self-monitoring stop interfering.

Watching her, I wasn't looking at someone who had learned to act more confidently.

I was looking at someone who no longer needed to.

How can shame survive success in the first place?

I'll explore that in my next article.