During our final session together, one of my therapy clients
asked if she could give me some feedback. I welcomed her perspective, though internally
I felt cautious. She shared an
observation: I always apologize when my vision loss enters the room. She brought
up several examples, such as when I get out a magnifier to read her weekly
homework. She candidly poked, “I find it
quite ironic that we focus on radical acceptance of oneself and the importance
of asserting needs for interpersonal effectiveness and YOU’RE the one
constantly apologizing for an unchanging fact of life that you have no control
over.”
Unbeknownst to my client, she served as my therapist today.
I hadn’t realized I apologized for when and how I use assistive technology in
the therapy room. I often feel embarrassed about and apologize for myriad
facets of my vision loss: zooming in and
out when I share my screen, providing the inappropriate order of content during
a presentation because I cannot see the presentation or my notes, engaging
in various social faux pas ranging clumsiness (spilling, dropping, tripping). I
had, erroneously, believed apologizing was the appropriate response given the
inconvenience I was creating for those around me.
Before elaborating on the ties between apologizing and
shame, I need to distinguish the type of apologizing to which I’m referring. I
am referring to the tendency to apologize to communicate embarrassment. I am
not referring to the tendency to apologize to communicate comedic self-deprecation.
I believe the latter, humor, is instrumental in reducing the tension of an
otherwise challenging situation. For example, when a friend asks if she has
spinach in her teeth, I’ll retort in jest, “Ha, sorry, Blindy is absolutely NOT
the one to ask about that.” The former, embarrassment, however, denotes a
broader narrative riddled with self-doubt. For example, when I can’t find a
location where I’m meeting a friend, I’ll text or call saying “I’m really sorry, I'm failing miserably and can’t find my way there.”
Apologizing for how I see – or do not see - signals my
continued battle with shame. As a researcher of emotions and as a clinician, I am
often in the position of explaining the utility of shame and other
self-conscious emotions (e.g. embarrassment, pride, and guilt). Shame, like any
emotion, motivates and guides behavior. Shame serves a prominent function in
social relationships and is a common response to doing something that signals
not being enough, such as failing to meet expectations or encountering
rejection or criticism. In these situations, shame teaches us to avoid the
behavior that elicited the unpleasant reaction.
The desire to avoid shame can prompt us to engage in socially and
personally desirable behaviors. And at the same time, feelings of shame can
lead to a pervasive sense of self-blame.
Although I genuinely feel confident about my strength and
capabilities, my behavior of apologizing whenever my vision loss impacts those
around me is indicative of lingering shame. And, not only does this behavior
reflect my underlying emotions about myself as someone who is visually impaired, it communicates to others
that I am not enough, that I am broken, and that I need to apologize for who I
am and how I navigate the world. Apologizing denotes responsibility; I m not
responsible for my vision loss, nor am I responsible for others responses to my
vision loss and its repercussions.
When my client shared this feedback, I took the opportunity
to self-disclose and normalize: I, like everyone, have work to do on my
thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. We laughed at the irony and proceeded with our
end-of-therapy goodbyes. I proceeded with other meetings and work, and at the
end of the day felt the need to process. I found my place on a sunny grassy
knoll and reflected on shame. I cried tears
for myself and for the countless others who feel the need to apologize for our
unique ways of existing.
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