Introduction

Overcoming shame

An indomitable human spirit ... is it something with which one is born? Or does one learn not only to survive butto thrive?

How wonderful it is to state that yes, I have overcome my shame. As a woman well into my seventies, I am grateful to share with you that my lifelong struggle with self-hatred and negativity about my person and my body is in the past. It has taken a lifetime of perseverance and determination, but looking back, every bit of effort has catapulted me further into the life I have wanted, one of joy and success rather than pain and suffering. I have created the nuclear family I always wanted, enjoy loving relationships with my two sisters, and treasure friendships and bonds with my extended family. I have a healthy relationship with my body, no longer hearing the denigration my mind so often whispered in my ear. I have replaced my revulsion with pride. I have licked my wounds, healed them, and with the coping methods I have discovered within myself, I will not allow anyone to pick at the scars that remain. I feel empowered to know that my parents did what they could, my sisters did what they could, and I did as well.

This is a memoir of becoming well again, since I was not born with negative feelings about myself. Those feelings were learned. Mine is a story of second chances to find all the goodness life has to offer and, most importantly of all, to recognize that I was loved. My story is also an homage to the concept that each of us grows from an amalgam of so many elements. Many of my elements were difficult to overcome, but I know my strength and determination. I appreciate the power I have found within myself, my spirit, my fight, and my bravery, as well as my ability to help others in their time of need. I do whatever I can to enable those who may benefit from what I have learned. That drive is key to my own survival and, when I allow myself the luxury of focusing on it, fills me with pride. Had I not grown up with my parents, I might not have known any of that existed within me, which may just be my superpower! So there truly is a yin and a yang to everything. Our goal as humans has to be to grow from all that comesour way.

Still, awakening in the middle of the night, as I so often have, I find myself smoothing my nightgown as I walk to the bathroom. Regardless of my age or growth, I can’t help but feel the slap of my mother’s words:Your lower body is bulky. Your legs are short and stubby, like your father’s, and you waddle like a duck at times. Humiliating! Similarly humiliating was the nickname my father gave me: Itty Bitty Titty, for my small chest. (He gave Michele and Mindy, my two younger sisters, nicknames that were no more respectful or comforting.) Looking in the mirror, I see my mother’s deep-green eyes and her broad smile, which startles me, since how could I smile as I remember the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the thousands ofwhat ifs? Thesewhat ifs encompass years ofWhat could have been? Yet I am grateful to my mother for giving me the greatest gift: appreciation for the mother I had because she led me on the path to become the mother I have always wantedto be.

Both of my parents were mentally ill. According to the myriad of mental health professionals with whom I have worked, my mother likely suffered from borderline personality disorder, and my father, bipolar disorder