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SHAME ON ME
"Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it's having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage." —Brené Brown @MisterEnigma and I are soulmates. Period. Throughout our relationship, people have asked us how we met and have asked us for advice on a myriad of things. This quote from our guru perfectly sums up how we not only fell in love, but how we’ve managed to never even scream at each other (not once) in the years we’ve known each other. We’ve had disagreements and disappointments, sure. But we NEVER yell at each other, we ALWAYS rush to say sorry to each other, and we reunite so passionately because we are missing the better half of our souls when we are apart. When we met, we both had the courage to be ALL IN for this new person we felt powerlessly pulled to (and we are still ALL IN today). We opened up to each other in old school letter writing (not texting or chatting on an app). We disclosed our deepest shame to one another, not knowing if the other would run for the hills or not. We’re not talking about your everyday bullshit either. If any of you knew our pasts, 100% of you would be disgusted by us. The only reason we are anonymous on this public platform is for our safety—but we are NOT ashamed. Fuck shame. All shame does is cripple you. People will shame you for things they themselves do/have also. It’s unbearably fucking cruel. Mister and I took that leap of faith and now we have the most beautiful love I have ever personally witnessed. I’m biased, I know—but as someone who loves love… it’s pretty fucking magical. And to think, ALL it took was that one second of courage to just say, “Fuck it—this is who I am, I’m just human, and all I can do is try to be better tomorrow.” So, my fellow Prosers, I ask you: WHAT IS YOUR SHAME? Please write creatively/fictionally if it’s something that can implicate you criminally/legally (protect yourself, ALWAYS). But I want to be at least ONE person who can take your shame and say, “I hear you, I see you… and my arms are still wide open for you, friend.” If you need something to jumpstart your courage, I will soon post my own piece about something NO ONE wants to talk about. I will throw myself to the wolves for you, for myself… for a hope of a better future in which we can JUST be fkn kind to each other. We ALL just want to be accepted and loved—and I am here to do exactly that for you. So, let’s be courageous together, and… Dump your SHAME ON ME! [Any style, any length, and community engagement will be taken into consideration for my decision.]
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Mariah
181 reads

I walked away

I had just exited the restroom when the clamoring voices of several young children filled my ears. There were four of them. They ran wildly, everywhere. I scanned the area, certainly a parent is nearby; surely they cannot be just unattended like this…

Then I saw her. She weakly reached out toward her rambunctious brood, mumbling softly and incoherently. In a tattered carrier strapped to her chest, a red-faced infant wailed. The woman had a haggard look about her and dark smudges beneath her eyes. Greasy hair kept falling in her face.

Then a forlorn, guttural noise escaped her mouth. She suddenly fell back against a nearby wall and slowly slid down to the floor. She began to weep loudly. Her sobs and howls joined along with the squalling infant on her chest. She and her baby became a symphony of human misery.

She was partially blocking the walkway. A few onlookers spoke harshly to her as they stepped over her legs:

“Don’t breed ‘em if you ain’t gonna take care of ’em!”

“Ever heard of birth control?”

“Oh, give me a break, lady…”

Fifteen-year-old me looked around.

Someone should help her…

I looked around awkwardly for an adult to offer aid. I found not one friendly face, only strangers’ expressions of shock and disgust or averted gazes.

I’m just a kid. I don’t know what to do.

Maybe she was a single mom… Maybe she was simply overwhelmed… Maybe she was suffering from postpartum depression. I will never know exactly what was happening with her that day. My point is, it doesn’t matter the circumstance. I had a chance to be a comfort and blessing to a stranger and I opted out.

This is where my shame lies: my inaction. Even if I was unsure what practical help I could offer, I could have (at the very least) sat there on the floor with her. I could have let a hurting person know they were not alone on a bad day. But I chose to turn and walk away, with an empty prayer on my lips that help may soon find her.

I could have been her help, her comfort, her answered prayer… but I walked away.

I will carry this shame with me always.

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