Faith Wallace

Sometimes shame isn’t the judgment of someone else, but the internal perception of ourselves.

Faith Wallace, Style and Culture Writer

I sit on my bed scrolling endlessly through TikToks. Some of the videos are funny, but mostly I just look for the relatable ones. After reading the text without bothering to listen to the sound, I go straight to the comments. 

There are always thousands of them, but they are usually superficial. However, there’s this utter desire to make sure that I can relate to them. To make sure that I’m not alone. And then I remind myself that I should have finished my article last week. 

Yes, I know. I’ve worked through planners, but I don’t check them. I convince myself that the reminders on my phone do actually work. Yet, I continuously fall into the same trap of trusting my brain when the only thing it has done is consistently fail- time and time again.

Why is it that my own goals seem unattainable?

I think I get addicted to being busy with deadlines and goals, but I don’t know where to stop. I define my productivity in my school work. Everything else comes second.

Looking up at the time, I could easily tell you how many things I could be doing right now. I don’t need the reminder when I don’t have the personal energy to care. 

I feel as though my brain is covered in mud when doing my assignments. I think about the child stars who understand more than I could possibly know. 

This shame feels like a core part of me. The reddening of cheeks and the frozen smile, but there is an unmistakable fear of failure that accompanies it. The feeling tastes like disappearing. 

My shame makes me feel like I’m living with someone who hates me. The worst part isn’t my parents’ expectations of my productivity, it’s the shame every time I let myself down.

I’m just building extreme trust issues with myself, but my shame doesn’t produce any accountability. It’s hard to rest when I only think about what comes next.