What Shame Hides, Compassion Heals
Shame is a master of disguise.
It whispers that it’s moral, that it’s motivation, that it's the only way we’ll ever get better. The inner critic that “keeps us in check”, but what shame actually does is keep us locked in a feedback loop—one where the harder we try to escape it, the more deeply we feel it. Especially in the context of addiction, shame doesn’t lead to healing. It leads to hiding.
At Roots & Rays, we’ve walked with many clients who carry shame like a second skin. For those navigating substance use, unwanted maladaptive coping mechanisms, or compulsive behaviors, shame often says: “You chose this. You’re weak. You don’t deserve help.” But the truth is: shame keeps us from seeking support. It keeps us silent. It isolates the very parts of us that need care.
Addiction is not a moral failure. It's a survival strategy. A way the body and mind have coped when other options didn’t feel safe or accessible. Shame tells us our coping makes us broken. But compassion lets us see that our coping was creative, even if it no longer serves us.
It must be understood that shame is not just personal—it’s systemic. Oppressive systems have long used shame as a mechanism of control:
It others those who are poor, queer, neurodivergent, disabled, traumatized.
It masks as morality while upholding white supremacy, patriarchy, and ableism.
It punishes survival responses instead of asking what caused the wound.
One of our favorite reminders is this quote attributed to author Ann Voskamp:
“Shame dies when stories are told in safe places.”
This is the heart of our work.
Within the therapeutic alliance, we create space for the parts of you that feel unworthy. The ones that drank too much, lied, disappeared, numbed out. The ones you’ve tried to exile because you thought they made you unlovable. We gently welcome them back. Because those parts? They have stories to tell. And they don’t need to be fixed. They need to be heard.
Here are a few ways you can begin showing compassion to the parts of you that carry shame:
Speak to yourself like you would a younger version of you. “You were doing your best. I see why that felt like the only way.”
Use art or journaling to give your shame a shape, a voice, a name. Then sit beside it—not as an enemy, but as a witness.
Surround yourself with people, spaces, and practices that welcome vulnerability and reinforce your worthiness, not your failures.
Healing doesn’t ask you to be perfect. It asks you to be honest. To be gentle. To trust that you are still worthy of love—even in the messy middle. Especially there.
If you’re carrying shame that keeps you stuck, please know: you're not alone. You deserve support, not silence. We’re here—holding the door open, no judgment, only care.