I was taught to believe that I should be ashamed of who I was. The constant degradation, criticism, correction and comparison that I went through every day along with the physical abuse cemented in my brain that I should be someone other than who I am--someone far better. If I was just _______ (fill in the blank) then my mother wouldn't hate me and she wouldn't drink or abuse me. She wouldn't have to do all those things to me if I could just find the right way to please her.
That shame has never left me for an instant--any time anyone is less than ecstatic with anything in the universe that I could've changed in anyway then I feel shame. It is my job to make the world perfect for everyone, -- then if I do they'll like me or love me. I people please to the incredible extreme 24 hours a day. I think about how to line up my groceries on the conveyer belt so that they will be most helpful and pleasing to the cashier. I think about exactly how I place my trash can on the street so that the trash man will find it easiest to lift them. I rearrange things in the refrigerator so that the favorite drinks/snacks of the next person coming home will be at the front so they won't have to reach or search, etc. etc ad nauseum......
Any correction whatsoever causes me an overwhelming "shame attack". For instance, a few days ago I turned away from my shopping cart in the store to look at something. A sweet, tiny, old woman came up to me and said, "you know, you shouldn't leave your purse in the cart like that, anything could happen." I had a huge shame attack--I was so humiliated that I wanted to die.....all the while realizing how insane this is but I can't stop it.
I am overwhelmed with shame every time I talk to my therapist about any of my childhood trauma (much of which I have yet to share). It is as though by telling her these things I am confirming that I was/am so miserable a human that this had to be done to me.
My repetition compulsion played out in a very recently ended 23 year marriage to a pornography addict. That has allowed me to torture myself daily that if I was just prettier, younger, thinner, taller, fair-haired, bigger chested or whatever, then he wouldn't have this addiction. I couldn't begin to describe the shame surrounding all of that!