Shame Dies in the Light
I was listening to one of my most-treasured (traysure!) podcasts last week My Favorite Murder. It was started by two bad ass women, Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark, in 2016, who share a unabashed love of true crime. They each tell a horrific story of murder and over the years, their podcast has transformed into more than true crime conversations to include honest discussions about addiction, mental health, alcoholism, body image, etc. creating this entire community of Murderinos.
During this episode, Karen was talking about her latest obsession with sour candy, from Nerd Ropes to Sour S’ghetti. She was admonishing herself saying stop talking about candy, it’s not interesting while sharing the newest recommendation from a fan on Twitter when she said, “Come on, Shame Dies in the Light.” It felt like a lightning bolt zapped me, something about that phrase went straight through me. Karen and Georgia hid their love of true crime for years, afraid people would think they were morbid. Even though, as women, we make up the majority of the victims in these crimes, and are raised to scream fire instead of rape and never let our guards down with in bars, parking lots, running paths, FORESTS! We are made to feel ghoulish in our fascinations with true crime even if it’s partly a training/coping mechanism to save our own hides someday. Their podcast has completely normalized this so-called taboo, turning each of them into media moguls, New York Times best sellers, and completely relatable role models to women (and men) everywhere who have struggled their whole lives with insecurity, hidden therapy sessions, undiagnosed mental issues, self doubt, self hate, eating disorders, all of it! Hearing Karen dismissing shame was cathartic and much needed.
I started my own “morbid” curiosity at a very young age, devouring Stephen King and V.C. Andrews books long before I should have. I also spent the first half of my life ashamed of my fatherless, single mother apartment, embarrassed by my lacking wardrobe and automatic black sheep status at my Richie Rich high school. I’ve worked my ass off which may come across as greed but is really just a desperation for stability, like Dax Shephard discusses often on another favorite podcast Armchair Expert. Realizing the shame I felt was unkind to myself and unnecessary, I dumped it long ago but a bit of new shame has crept back in 2020.
You’ll never live like common people
You’ll never do whatever common people do
Never fail like common people
You’ll never watch your life slide out of view
Common People by Pulp
It’s been a shit year for pretty much everyone but every Covid story is different. My husband is a realtor and we both also drive for a delivery service bringing parts ASAP to broke down truckers, so we are both “essential” workers. We have had our busiest year ever, meaning we are not sitting pants-less working from home on Zoom, though we do have two teenagers home-schooling online since March. We have been out in the world “front-line” for almost nine months and we made it almost through November without our household being infected. Several weeks ago, my brother-in-law and his wife caught the Rona. As a household, we’ve babysat their newborn several times, so everyone in the house got a Covid test. My husband and I are out every day, delivering parts to plenty of red areas of Colorado, Wyoming, and Kansas where masks are somehow a political statement so it was really only a matter of time.
Our daughter tested positive and began to have symptoms so she went to quarantine at her girlfriend’s house the week before Thanksgiving. The rest of us tested negative and felt fine so we waited out the quarantine dreading a cough or fever that luckily never came. My mother made gingerbread houses with the kids days before finding out about our exposure to their Aunt and Uncle so she was also at risk. Our Thanksgiving, which should have been a celebration at my Mom’s new house six blocks away, was instead my husband, son and I eating at home, while dropping off porch plates to Grandma eating alone at her house and to my daughter whom I hadn’t hugged in a week. Happy Thanksgiving! It was stark and depressing. While our mayor flew home out-of-state to spend the holiday with his extended family, after encouraging and recommending everyone else celebrate only with their immediate household, I was hiding Bella’s diagnosis shamefully like a scarlet letter, feeling awful for exposing my mother and responsible like I somehow didn’t wash my hands enough and avoid the right people.
I told my neighbor, an ER nurse, almost whispering about Bella’s positive test and she said, “It’s ridiculous, almost like an STD!” My husband scheduled our daughter’s test through his phone number so when it came back positive, contact tracers were sending urgent text messages of possible exposure to everyone he had contact with previously even though his test was negative. My friends contacted me, worried and concerned that he had exposed them at a patio game night, after months of them diligently avoiding the world and working from home and it felt accusatory. That old shame creeping back in.
Like I said, this year has been pretty much awful for everyone. Different experiences for everyone, whether you’re safe at home with Zoom calls, Netflix and crippling cabin fever or going to work every day regardless of a global pandemic, and I just needed to vent for minute. I know at least ten people, close friends and family members who have had Covid including people who didn’t reach out as soon as they tested positive and friends whose employees tried to keep positive tests under wraps, afraid of losing staff. There are also plenty of people who can’t afford to miss two weeks of work, friends whose pride or shame permits them from asking for help when bills pile up. Don’t even get me started on the science denying dipshits who narcissistically put loved ones and strangers at risk every day.
As I went to pull photos for our annual holiday card, (a marketing ploy for my realtor husband after a half as busy standstill real estate year) I joked about including a picture of my foul mouthed daughter about to beat a birthday pinata lovingly made by her girlfriend, not exactly perfect family advertising lol. I’m not ashamed of my sober husband, my lesbian daughter or my medicated ADHD son. I’m not ashamed that my children are sometimes brats. I’m happy to spoil them rotten even when they’re unappreciative because that’s one reason I became a parent. I’m also not ashamed anymore of my upbringing, though I’m sure I could still benefit from years of therapy (couldn’t we all) and I’m fiercely proud of the job my mom did. I won’t be ashamed of this stupid virus either.
I just wanted to explain that this is real and feeling shame on top of every other soul crushing emotion 2020 has made me feel almost snapped me. We are doing everything in our power to stay safe and healthy and protect others. Like Karen said, “Shame dies in the light,” so maybe instead of being judgmental and ostracizing, let’s also be kind to each other. Most importantly be kind to yourself.
Tomorrow is not guaranteed and if Covid-21 is actual zombies, we might all be completely screwed. We are heading into an even darker winter after months of this mess that felt like eons already. I hope to see all my friends on the other side of this so please take care of each other. If you’re one of those people who think this is a hoax or can’t figure out how to wear your mask over BOTH your nose and your mouth, kindly stay the f@ck away from me. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk 🙂