Pride and Shame
Pain Spectrum – yellow alert
BM/RD Index – 25
Fuzz meter – 4 mild fuzz buzz
There is an outstanding article by Orhan Pamuk, “Freedom to Write” in this issue’s New York Review of Books. While reading this article last night, I was struck by a leitmotif running through it: that of Pamuk’s “mutual pride and shared shame” when dealing with his fellow countrymen in Turkey. Pride and shame: the words jumped out at me, striking a raw chord much different than the one the author intended.
Coincidentally, later that night, my K and I got into a tiff concerning the impending visit of his parents. This trip (a rare one) does not concern us. They are here to see their grandchild, and will stay with K’s older brother and his wife. We are the periphery. We will host a nice dinner and make a few trips to Brooklyn; we might even take them sightseeing for a bit. No one expects us to do much more: this is an impromptu trip, K is very busy, and I am, well, sick, as everyone knows.
I get agitated almost every time we see K’s parents. His parents come from family lines that pride themselves on strength, and I am definitely not strong, at least not in ways that I feel that they value. Consequently, I think we just make each other uncomfortable.
You know what – those last couple of lines? All bullshit. K’s parents value me and care for me very much. This is my problem. It is my pride that says these things, so that I do not have to own up to how ashamed I feel around them. I picture myself through their eyes and all I see is failure and a lack of strength. I am a horrible daughter-in-law, my shame says. I tricked my K into loving me. I am nothing but a parasite, and a poor mate for any man to bring to his family. So I rail at trying to meet up with them, because I am ashamed that their son chose to stick with me, and too proud to admit it. Pride and shame. They pricked me into a stupid argument last night and then kept me up as I tried to come to grips with them.
I wish I could say that this problem surfaces once in a blue moon, when we meet up with the in-laws, but I am beginning to realize that I am contantly wrestling with these emotions. The truth is, even after all these years, I am ashamed of being ill, of hurting all the time. I don’t want to be seen like this. I dread the stares I get on the street, much less at a party where I know people. The temptation, then, is to let my pride mask my shame, to stay at home and feign disinterest. What makes this worse is that staying home is often the right thing to do. Nowadays, I am often in too much pain to do very much for too long - ah, but the key word here is often. Often, but not I think, always. I am quite sure that I have at times let pride trump pain. I worry now that I am becoming a recluse, refusing to go places because I am too proud to let others see how much I hurt; too shamed by the fact that I can no longer mask the pain and its toll on me the way I once could. Pride and shame – they can destroy you as much as pain and depression. At least I see it now. The problem is, what to do about it?.
BM/RD Index – 25
Fuzz meter – 4 mild fuzz buzz
There is an outstanding article by Orhan Pamuk, “Freedom to Write” in this issue’s New York Review of Books. While reading this article last night, I was struck by a leitmotif running through it: that of Pamuk’s “mutual pride and shared shame” when dealing with his fellow countrymen in Turkey. Pride and shame: the words jumped out at me, striking a raw chord much different than the one the author intended.
Coincidentally, later that night, my K and I got into a tiff concerning the impending visit of his parents. This trip (a rare one) does not concern us. They are here to see their grandchild, and will stay with K’s older brother and his wife. We are the periphery. We will host a nice dinner and make a few trips to Brooklyn; we might even take them sightseeing for a bit. No one expects us to do much more: this is an impromptu trip, K is very busy, and I am, well, sick, as everyone knows.
I get agitated almost every time we see K’s parents. His parents come from family lines that pride themselves on strength, and I am definitely not strong, at least not in ways that I feel that they value. Consequently, I think we just make each other uncomfortable.
You know what – those last couple of lines? All bullshit. K’s parents value me and care for me very much. This is my problem. It is my pride that says these things, so that I do not have to own up to how ashamed I feel around them. I picture myself through their eyes and all I see is failure and a lack of strength. I am a horrible daughter-in-law, my shame says. I tricked my K into loving me. I am nothing but a parasite, and a poor mate for any man to bring to his family. So I rail at trying to meet up with them, because I am ashamed that their son chose to stick with me, and too proud to admit it. Pride and shame. They pricked me into a stupid argument last night and then kept me up as I tried to come to grips with them.
I wish I could say that this problem surfaces once in a blue moon, when we meet up with the in-laws, but I am beginning to realize that I am contantly wrestling with these emotions. The truth is, even after all these years, I am ashamed of being ill, of hurting all the time. I don’t want to be seen like this. I dread the stares I get on the street, much less at a party where I know people. The temptation, then, is to let my pride mask my shame, to stay at home and feign disinterest. What makes this worse is that staying home is often the right thing to do. Nowadays, I am often in too much pain to do very much for too long - ah, but the key word here is often. Often, but not I think, always. I am quite sure that I have at times let pride trump pain. I worry now that I am becoming a recluse, refusing to go places because I am too proud to let others see how much I hurt; too shamed by the fact that I can no longer mask the pain and its toll on me the way I once could. Pride and shame – they can destroy you as much as pain and depression. At least I see it now. The problem is, what to do about it?.
posted by KS at 12:42 PM
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