An Addiction to Guilt
Self-critical scripts are actually addictive, says neuroscientist Alex Korb, author of The Upward Spiral: Using Neuroscience to Reverse the Course of Depression, One Small Change at a Time. ‘Guilt, shame and self-pity activate the reward circuitry in the brain. The only way out of this addictive loop is to practice radical self-compassion instead.’
The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober, Catherine Gray
Guilt and shame and self-pity activate the reward circuitry? This explains so much. Self-pity isn’t normally a big difficulty for me, but guilt and shame are hard-wired into me.
When the cosmos or god – or simply my mother – was knitting me together it went in this order: guilt, shame, bones, blood, organs, sugar cravings, brain, nerves, and then everything else like my almost-nonexistent little toenails and my ability to leap on and off slippery rocks in tide pools.
It feels good to have guilt?
I feel guilty for being so relieved that guilt feels rewarding. This is a true thing that just happened.
Instead of spending years boggling over this, I’m doing two things: ordering that Alex Korb book mentioned above, and concentrating on practicing radical self-compassion instead. (Oh, yes, as if it’s a switch I hadn’t noticed before! Self-compassion, activate! Done! WAIT, WHERE IS THAT SWITCH?)
I can never remember what self-compassion looks like.
I work too much – I feel guilt. I work too little – I feel shame. I have fleeting balance in my life for a day or two? I spend a moment feeling pleased about it, and then I panic because I surely can’t be balanced again tomorrow.
The knowledge that I’m okay and that I’m in exactly the right place, right now, with all the detritus of life around me – to me, that’s self-compassion.
Meditation lets me remember this. Writing, like this, brings it out of my fingertips and reminds me.
Clara needs a bath – she’s stinky. I haven’t brought our finances up to date in more than a month. I need to change the cat litter on the porch because I used that junk cheap stuff. I owe a lot of people a lot of thoughtful emails. My laundry needs folding. I have something that needs to be revised by Monday. There are so many dishes in the sink.
And I refuse to feel guilt or shame around any of this.
That’s not where I want to get my dopamine hits (even if, apparently, I often do. The above list was fun to write in a sick way).
My happiness, when I remember, comes from the knowledge that none of this stuff matters. I’m here, and here is all I have, and I notice it all, the good and the bad. That’s enough. I’m enough. That’s self-compassion.
I’m enough.
Speaking of enough, I’m going to post more here and let you know about it on social media. I’m not polishing the pieces – perfection is the enemy of done. I just miss blogging. So hi.
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