Friday my dear friend Lisa blessed me with an hour-long phone conversation. She’s one of those friends that everyone needs in their life.
The friend who isn’t afraid of tough love. The one who outwardly calls you on your stuff and doesn’t back down until you promise her you will start thinking differently. But also isn’t afraid to share her stuff, too, so you don’t feel alone.
We got on the topic of shame, and I told her I don’t understand why I feel the way I do right now because I’ve worked hard over the past few years to let go of my shame. As a pretense, I was having a woe-is-me moment thinking about how my 40th birthday is around the corner, and my life doesn’t look like I’d imagined it to be at age 40.
I began ticking off one-by-one all the shame I felt about my past and how I’d let it go.
She said, “Kellie, you think that shame fits into neat little boxes. This shame fits in this box, and I will put this shame...
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