Daring Greatly Part 3

You've designed a product or written an article or created a piece of art that you want to share with a group of friends. Sharing something that you've created is a vulnerable but essential part of engaged and Wholehearted living. It's the epitome of daring greatly. But because of how you were raised or how you approach the world, you've knowingly or unknowingly attached your self-worth to how your product or art is received. In simple terms, if they love it, you're worthy; if they don't, you're worthless.

One of two things happens at this point in the process: Once you realize that your self-worth is. .h.i.tched to what you've produced or created, it's unlikely that you'll share it, or if you do, you'll strip away a layer or two of the juiciest creativity and innovation to make the revealing less risky. There's too much on the line to just put your wildest creations out there.

If you do share it in its most creative form and the reception doesn't meet your expectations, you're crushed. Your offering is no good and you're no good. The chances of soliciting feedback, reengaging, and going back to the drawing board are slim. You shut down. Shame tells you that you shouldn't have even tried. Shame tells you that you're not good enough and you should have known better.

If you're wondering what happens if you attach your self-worth to your art or your product and people love it, let me answer that from personal and professional experience. You're in even deeper trouble. Everything shame needs to hijack and control your life is in place. You've handed over your self-worth to what people think. It's panned out a couple of times, but now it feels a lot like Hotel California: You can check in, but you can never leave. You're officially a prisoner of "pleasing, performing, and perfecting."

With an awareness of shame and strong shame resilience skills, this scenario is completely different. You still want folks to like, respect, and even admire what you've created, but your self-worth is not on the table. You know that you are far more than a painting, an innovative idea, an effective pitch, a good sermon, or a high Amazon.com ranking. Yes, it will be disappointing and difficult if your friends or colleagues don't share your enthusiasm, or if things don't go well, but this effort is about what you do, not who you are. Regardless of the outcome, you've already dared greatly, and that's totally aligned with your values; with who you want to be.

When our self-worth isn't on the line, we are far more willing to be courageous and risk sharing our raw talents and gifts. From my research with families, schools, and organizations, it's clear that shame-resilient cultures nurture folks who are much more open to soliciting, accepting, and incorporating feedback. These cultures also nurture engaged, tenacious people who expect to have to try and try again to get it right-people who are much more willing to get innovative and creative in their efforts.

A sense of worthiness inspires us to be vulnerable, share openly, and persevere. Shame keeps us small, resentful, and afraid. In shame-p.r.o.ne cultures, where parents, leaders, and administrators consciously or unconsciously encourage people to connect their self-worth to what they produce, I see disengagement, blame, gossip, stagnation, favoritism, and a total dearth of creativity and innovation.

Peter Sheahan is an author, speaker, and CEO of ChangeLabs, a global consultancy building and delivering large-scale behavioral change projects for clients such as Apple and IBM. Pete and I had the chance to work together last summer and I think his perspective on shame is spot on. Pete says, The secret killer of innovation is shame. You can't measure it, but it is there. Every time someone holds back on a new idea, fails to give their manager much needed feedback, and is afraid to speak up in front of a client you can be sure shame played a part. That deep fear we all have of being wrong, of being belittled and of feeling less than, is what stops us taking the very risks required to move our companies forward.

If you want a culture of creativity and innovation, where sensible risks are embraced on both a market and individual level, start by developing the ability of managers to cultivate an openness to vulnerability in their teams. And this, paradoxically perhaps, requires first that they are vulnerable themselves. This notion that the leader needs to be "in charge" and to "know all the answers" is both dated and destructive. Its impact on others is the sense that they know less, and that they are less than. A recipe for risk aversion if ever I have heard it. Shame becomes fear. Fear leads to risk aversion. Risk aversion kills innovation.

The bottom line is that daring greatly requires worthiness. Shame sends the gremlins to fill our heads with completely different messages of: Dare not! You're not good enough!

Don't you dare get too big for your britches!

The term gremlin-as we are most familiar with it-comes from Steven Spielberg's 1984 horror comedy Gremlins. Gremlins are those evil little green tricksters who wreak havoc everywhere they go. They're manipulative monsters that derive pleasure from destruction. In many circles, including my own, the word gremlin has become synonymous with "shame tape."

For example, I was recently struggling to finish an article. I called a good friend to tell her about my writer's block, and she immediately responded by asking, "What are the gremlins saying?"

This is a very effective way of asking about the shame tapes-the messages of self-doubt and self-criticism that we carry around in our heads. My answer was "There are a few of them. One's saying that my writing sucks and that no one cares about these topics. Another one's telling me that I'm going to get criticized and I'll deserve it. And the big one keeps saying, 'Real writers don't struggle like this. Real writers don't dangle their modifiers.'"

Understanding our shame tapes or gremlins is critical to overcoming shame because we can't always point to a certain moment or a specific put-down at the hands of another person. Sometimes shame is the result of us playing the old recordings that were programmed when we were children or simply absorbed from the culture. My good friend and colleague Robert Hilliker says, "Shame started as a two-person experience, but as I got older I learned how to do shame all by myself." Sometimes when we dare to walk into the arena the greatest critic we face is ourselves.

Shame derives its power from being unspeakable. That's why it loves perfectionists-it's so easy to keep us quiet. If we cultivate enough awareness about shame to name it and speak to it, we've basically cut it off at the knees. Shame hates having words wrapped around it. If we speak shame, it begins to wither. Just the way exposure to light was deadly for the gremlins, language and story bring light to shame and destroy it.

Just like Roosevelt advised, when we dare greatly we will err and we will come up short again and again. There will be failures and mistakes and criticism. If we want to be able to move through the difficult disappointments, the hurt feelings, and the heartbreaks that are inevitable in a fully lived life, we can't equate defeat with being unworthy of love, belonging, and joy. If we do, we'll never show up and try again. Shame hangs out in the parking lot of the arena, waiting for us to come out defeated and determined to never take risks. It laughs and says, "I told you this was a mistake. I knew you weren't _________ enough." Shame resilience is the ability to say, "This hurts. This is disappointing, maybe even devastating. But success and recognition and approval are not the values that drive me. My value is courage and I was just courageous. You can move on, shame."

So, I'm not trying to kill you. I'm just saying, "We can't embrace vulnerability if shame is suffocating our sense of worthiness and connection." Strap yourself in, and let's get our heads and hearts around this experience called shame, so we can get about the business of truly living.

WHAT IS SHAME AND WHY IS IT SO HARD TO TALK ABOUT IT?.

(If you're pretty sure that shame doesn't apply to you, keep reading; I'll clear that up in the next couple of pages.) I start every talk, article, and chapter on shame with the Shame 1-2-3s, or the first three things that you need to know about shame, so you'll keep listening: We all have it. Shame is universal and one of the most primitive human emotions that we experience. The only people who don't experience shame lack the capacity for empathy and human connection. Here's your choice: Fess up to experiencing shame or admit that you're a sociopath. Quick note: This is the only time that shame seems like a good option.

We're all afraid to talk about shame.

The less we talk about shame, the more control it has over our lives.

There are a couple of very helpful ways to think about shame. First, shame is the fear of disconnection. We are psychologically, emotionally, cognitively, and spiritually hardwired for connection, love, and belonging. Connection, along with love and belonging (two expressions of connection), is why we are here, and it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives. Shame is the fear of disconnection-it's the fear that something we've done or failed to do, an ideal that we've not lived up to, or a goal that we've not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection. I'm not worthy or good enough for love, belonging, or connection. I'm unlovable. I don't belong. Here's the definition of shame that emerged from my research: Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.

People often want to believe that shame is reserved for people who have survived an unspeakable trauma, but this is not true. Shame is something we all experience. And while it feels as if shame hides in our darkest corners, it actually tends to lurk in all of the familiar places. Twelve "shame categories" have emerged from my research: Appearance and body image Money and work Motherhood/fatherhood Family Parenting Mental and physical health Addiction s.e.x Aging Religion Surviving trauma Being stereotyped or labeled Here are some of the responses we received when we asked people for an example of shame: Shame is getting laid off and having to tell my pregnant wife.

Shame is having someone ask me, "When are you due?" when I'm not pregnant.

Shame is hiding the fact that I'm in recovery.

Shame is raging at my kids.

Shame is bankruptcy.

Shame is my boss calling me an idiot in front of the client.

Shame is not making partner.

Shame is my husband leaving me for my next-door neighbor.

Shame is my wife asking me for a divorce and telling me that she wants children, but not with me.

Shame is my DUI.

Shame is infertility.

Shame is telling my fiance that my dad lives in France when in fact he's in prison.

Shame is Internet p.o.r.n.

Shame is flunking out of school. Twice.

Shame is hearing my parents fight through the walls and wondering if I'm the only one who feels this afraid.

Shame is real pain. The importance of social acceptance and connection is reinforced by our brain chemistry, and the pain that results from social rejection and disconnection is real pain. In a 2011 study funded by the National Inst.i.tute of Mental Health and by the National Inst.i.tute on Drug Abuse, researchers found that, as far as the brain is concerned, physical pain and intense experiences of social rejection hurt in the same way. So when I define shame as an intensely "painful" experience, I'm not kidding. Neuroscience advances confirm what we've known all along: Emotions can hurt and cause pain. And just as we often struggle to define physical pain, describing emotional pain is difficult. Shame is particularly hard because it hates having words wrapped around it. It hates being spoken.

UNTANGLING SHAME, GUILT, HUMILIATION,.

AND EMBARRa.s.sMENT.

In fact, as we work to understand shame, one of the simpler reasons that shame is so difficult to talk about is vocabulary. We often use the terms embarra.s.sment, guilt, humiliation, and shame interchangeably. It might seem overly picky to stress the importance of using the appropriate term to describe an experience or emotion; however, it is much more than semantics.

How we experience these different emotions comes down to self-talk. How do we talk to ourselves about what's happening? The best place to start examining self-talk and untangling these four distinct emotions is with shame and guilt. The majority of shame researchers and clinicians agree that the difference between shame and guilt is best understood as the difference between "I am bad" and "I did something bad."

Guilt = I did something bad.

Shame = I am bad.

For example, let's say that you forgot that you made plans to meet a friend at noon for lunch. At 12:15 P.M., your friend calls from the restaurant to make sure you're okay. If your self-talk is "I'm such an idiot. I'm a terrible friend and a total loser"-that's shame. If, on the other hand, your self-talk is "I can't believe I did that. What a c.r.a.ppy thing to do"-that's guilt.

Here's what's interesting-especially for those who automatically think, You should feel like a terrible friend! or A little shame will help you keep your act together next time. When we feel shame, we are most likely to protect ourselves by blaming something or someone, rationalizing our lapse, offering a disingenuous apology, or hiding out. Rather than apologizing, we blame our friend and rationalize forgetting: "I told you I was really busy. This wasn't a good day for me." Or we apologize halfheartedly and think to ourselves, Whatever. If she knew how busy I am, she'd be apologizing. Or we see who is calling and don't answer the phone at all, and then when we finally can't stop dodging our friend, we lie: "Didn't you get my e-mail? I canceled in the morning. You should check your spam folder."

When we apologize for something we've done, make amends, or change a behavior that doesn't align with our values, guilt-not shame-is most often the driving force. We feel guilty when we hold up something we've done or failed to do against our values and find they don't match up. It's an uncomfortable feeling, but one that's helpful. The psychological discomfort, something similar to cognitive dissonance, is what motivates meaningful change. Guilt is just as powerful as shame, but its influence is positive, while shame's is destructive. In fact, in my research I found that shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we can change and do better.

We live in a world where most people still subscribe to the belief that shame is a good tool for keeping people in line. Not only is this wrong, but it's dangerous. Shame is highly correlated with addiction, violence, aggression, depression, eating disorders, and bullying. Researchers don't find shame correlated with positive outcomes at all-there are no data to support that shame is a helpful compa.s.s for good behavior. In fact, shame is much more likely to be the cause of destructive and hurtful behaviors than it is to be the solution.

Again, it is human nature to want to feel worthy of love and belonging. When we experience shame, we feel disconnected and desperate for worthiness. When we're hurting, either full of shame or even just feeling the fear of shame, we are more likely to engage in self-destructive behaviors and to attack or shame others. In the chapters on parenting, leaders.h.i.+p, and education, we'll explore how shame erodes our courage and fuels disengagement, and what we can do to cultivate cultures of worthiness, vulnerability, and shame resilience.

Humiliation is another word that we often confuse with shame. Donald Klein captures the difference between shame and humiliation when he writes, "People believe they deserve their shame; they do not believe they deserve their humiliation." If John is in a meeting with his colleagues and his boss, and his boss calls him a loser because of his inability to close a sale, John will probably experience that as either shame or humiliation.

If John's self-talk is "G.o.d, I am a loser. I'm a failure"-that's shame. If his self-talk is "Man, my boss is so out of control. This is ridiculous. I don't deserve this"-that's humiliation. Humiliation feels terrible and makes for a miserable work or home environment-and if it's ongoing, it can certainly become shame if we start to buy into the messaging. It is, however, still better than shame. Rather than internalizing the "loser" comment, John's saying to himself, "This isn't about me." When we do that, it's less likely that we'll shut down, act out, or fight back. We stay aligned with our values while trying to solve the problem.

Embarra.s.sment is the least serious of the four emotions. It's normally fleeting and it can eventually be funny. The hallmark of embarra.s.sment is that when we do something embarra.s.sing, we don't feel alone. We know other folks have done the same thing and, like a blush, it will pa.s.s rather than define us.

Getting familiar with the language is an important start to understanding shame. It is part of the first element of what I call shame resilience.

I GET IT. SHAME IS BAD. SO WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT IT?.

The answer is shame resilience. Note that shame resistance is not possible. As long as we care about connection, the fear of disconnection will always be a powerful force in our lives, and the pain caused by shame will always be real. But here's the great news. In all my studies, I've found that men and women with high levels of shame resilience have four things in common-I call them the elements of shame resilience. Learning to put these elements into action is what I call "Gremlin Ninja Warrior training."

We'll go through each of the four elements, but first I want to explain what I mean by shame resilience. I mean the ability to practice authenticity when we experience shame, to move through the experience without sacrificing our values, and to come out on the other side of the shame experience with more courage, compa.s.sion, and connection than we had going into it. Shame resilience is about moving from shame to empathy-the real antidote to shame.

If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive. Self-compa.s.sion is also critically important, but because shame is a social concept-it happens between people-it also heals best between people. A social wound needs a social balm, and empathy is that balm. Self-compa.s.sion is key because when we're able to be gentle with ourselves in the midst of shame, we're more likely to reach out, connect, and experience empathy.

To get to empathy, we have to first know what we're dealing with. Here are the four elements of shame resilience-the steps don't always happen in this order, but they always ultimately lead us to empathy and healing: Recognizing Shame and Understanding Its Triggers. Shame is biology and biography. Can you physically recognize when you're in the grips of shame, feel your way through it, and figure out what messages and expectations triggered it?

Practicing Critical Awareness. Can you reality-check the messages and expectations that are driving your shame? Are they realistic? Attainable? Are they what you want to be or what you think others need/want from you?

Reaching Out. Are you owning and sharing your story? We can't experience empathy if we're not connecting.

Speaking Shame. Are you talking about how you feel and asking for what you need when you feel shame?

Shame resilience is a strategy for protecting connection-our connection with ourselves and our connections with the people we care about. But resilience requires cognition, or thinking, and that's where shame has a huge advantage. When shame descends, we almost always are hijacked by the limbic system. In other words, the prefrontal cortex, where we do all of our thinking and a.n.a.lyzing and strategizing, gives way to that primitive fight-or-flight part of our brain.

In his book Incognito, neuroscientist David Eagleman describes the brain as a "team of rivals." He writes, "There is an ongoing conversation among the different factions in your brain, each competing to control the single output channel of your behavior." He lays out the dominant two-party system of reason and emotion: "The rational system is the one that cares about a.n.a.lysis of things in the outside world, while the emotional system monitors the internal state and worries whether things are good or bad." Eagleman makes the case that because both parties are battling to control one output-behavior-emotions can tip the balance of decision making. I would say that's definitely true when the emotion is shame.

Our fight or flight strategies are effective for survival, not for reasoning or connection. And the pain of shame is enough to trigger that survival part of our brain that runs, hides, or comes out swinging. In fact, when I asked the research partic.i.p.ants how they normally responded to shame before they started working on shame resilience, I heard many comments like these: "When I feel shame, I'm like a crazy person. I do stuff and say stuff I would normally never do or say."

"Sometimes I just wish I could make other people feel as bad as I do. I just want to lash out and scream at everyone."

"I get desperate when I feel shame. Like I have nowhere to turn-no one to talk to."

"When I feel ashamed, I check out mentally and emotionally. Even with my family."

"Shame makes you feel estranged from the world. I hide."

"One time I stopped to get gas and my credit card was declined. The guy gave me a really hard time. As I pulled out of the station, my three-year-old son started crying. I just started screaming, 'Shut up...shut up...shut up!' I was so ashamed about my card. I went nuts. Then I was ashamed that I yelled at my son."

When it comes to understanding how we defend ourselves against shame, I turn to the wonderful research from the Stone Center at Wellesley. Dr. Linda Hartling, a former relational-cultural theorist at the Stone Center and now the director of Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies, uses the late Karen Horney's work on "moving toward, moving against, and moving away" to outline the strategies of disconnection we use to deal with shame.

According to Dr. Hartling, in order to deal with shame, some of us move away by withdrawing, hiding, silencing ourselves, and keeping secrets. Some of us move toward by seeking to appease and please. And some of us move against by trying to gain power over others, by being aggressive, and by using shame to fight shame (like sending really mean e-mails). Most of us use all of these-at different times with different folks for different reasons. Yet all of these strategies move us away from connection-they are strategies for disconnecting from the pain of shame.

Here's a story about one of my own shame experiences that brings life to all of these concepts. It's not one of my best moments, but it's a good example of why it's important to cultivate and practice shame resilience if we don't want to heap even more shame on top of a painful situation.

First, let me start with a little backstory. Turning down speaking invitations is a vulnerable process for me. Years of pleasing and perfecting have left me feeling less than comfortable with disappointing people-the "good girl" in me hates letting people down. The gremlins whisper, "They'll think you're ungrateful" and "Don't be selfish." I also struggle with the fear that if I say no everyone is going to stop asking. This is when the gremlins say, "You want more time to rest? Be careful what you wish for-this work that you love could all go away."

My new commitment to setting boundaries comes from the twelve years I've spent studying Wholeheartedness and what it takes to make the journey from "What will people think?" to "I am enough." The most connected and compa.s.sionate people of those I've interviewed set and respect boundaries. I don't just want to research and travel all of the time talking about being Wholehearted; I want to live it. That means that I turn down about 80 percent of the speaking requests that I receive. I say yes when it works with my family calendar, my research commitments, and my life.

Well, last year I received an e-mail from a man who was really angry with me because I wasn't able to speak at an event that he was hosting. I turned down the invitation because it conflicted with a family birthday. The e-mail was mean-spirited and jam-packed with personal attacks. My gremlins were having a field day!

Rather than replying, I decided to forward it to my husband along with a little note telling him exactly what I thought about this guy and his e-mail. I needed to discharge my shame and anger. Trust me, it was not "good girl" e-mail. I can neither confirm nor deny using the word horses.h.i.+t. Twice.

I hit Reply instead of Forward.

The second my Mac laptop made the airplane swoos.h.i.+ng sound that it makes when you hit the Send b.u.t.ton, I screamed, "Come back! Please come back!" I was still staring at the screen, totally immobilized by shame layered on shame, when the man fired back a response along the lines of "Aha! I knew it! You are a horrible person. You're not Wholehearted. You suck."

The shame attack was already in full swing. My mouth was dry, time was slowing down, and I was seeing tunnel vision. I struggled to swallow as the gremlins started whispering: "You do suck!" "How could you be so stupid?" They always know exactly what to say. As soon as I could catch my breath, I started murmuring, "Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain..."

This strategy is the brainchild of Caroline, a woman whom I interviewed early in my research and then a couple of years later, after she had been practicing shame resilience. Caroline told me that whenever she felt shame, she'd immediately start repeating the word pain aloud. "Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain." She told me, "I'm sure it sounds crazy, and I probably look like a nut, but for some reason it really works."

Of course it works! It's a brilliant way to get out of lizard-brain survival mode and pull that prefrontal cortex back online. After one or two minutes of "pain" chanting, I took a deep breath and tried to focus myself. I thought, "Okay. Shame attack. I'm okay. What's next? I can do this."

I recognized the physical symptoms which allowed me to reboot my thinking brain and remember the three ninja-warrior gremlin moves that are the most effective path to shame resilience for me. And fortunately I've been practicing these moves long enough to know that they are totally counterintuitive and I have to trust the process: Practice courage and reach out! Yes, I want to hide, but the way to fight shame and to honor who we are is by sharing our experience with someone who has earned the right to hear it-someone who loves us, not despite our vulnerabilities, but because of them.

Talk to myself the way I would talk to someone I really love and whom I'm trying to comfort in the midst of a meltdown: You're okay. You're human-we all make mistakes. I've got your back. Normally during a shame attack we talk to ourselves in ways we would NEVER talk to people we love and respect.

Own the story! Don't bury it and let it fester or define me. I often say this aloud: "If you own this story you get to write the ending. If you own this story you get to write the ending." When we bury the story we forever stay the subject of the story. If we own the story we get to narrate the ending. As Carl Jung said, "I am not what has happened to me. I am what I choose to become."

Even though I knew that the most dangerous thing to do after a shaming experience is to hide or bury our story, I was afraid to make the call. But I did.

I called both my husband, Steve, and my good friend Karen. They gave me what I needed the most: empathy, the best reminder that we're not alone. Rather than judgment (which exacerbates shame), empathy conveys a simple acknowledgment, "You're not alone."

Empathy is connection; it's a ladder out of the shame hole. Not only did Steve and Karen help me climb out by listening and loving me, but they made themselves vulnerable by sharing that they, too, had spent some time in the same hole. Empathy doesn't require that we have the exact same experiences as the person sharing their story with us. Neither Karen nor Steve had sent an e-mail like that, but they were both intimately familiar with the imposter gremlins and the "getting caught" feeling and the "Oh, s.h.i.+t!" experience. Empathy is connecting with the emotion that someone is experiencing, not the event or the circ.u.mstance. Shame dissipated the minute I realized that I wasn't alone-that my experience was human.

Interestingly, Steve and Karen's responses were totally different. Steve was more serious and more "Oh, man. I know that feeling!" Karen took an approach that had me laughing in about thirty seconds. What the responses shared in common was the power of "me too." Empathy is a strange and powerful thing. There is no script. There is no right way or wrong way to do it. It's simply listening, holding s.p.a.ce, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of "You're not alone."

My conversations with Steve and Karen allowed me to move through shame, get back on my emotional feet, and respond to the man's "I knew it!" e-mail from a place of authenticity and self-worth. I owned my part in the angry exchange and apologized for my inappropriate language. I also set clear boundaries around future communications. I never heard from him again.

Shame thrives on secret keeping, and when it comes to secrets, there's some serious science behind the twelve-step program saying, "You're only as sick as your secrets." In a pioneering study, psychologist and University of Texas professor James Pennebaker and his colleagues studied what happened when trauma survivors-specifically rape and incest survivors-kept their experiences secret. The research team found that the act of not discussing a traumatic event or confiding it to another person could be more damaging than the actual event. Conversely, when people shared their stories and experiences, their physical health improved, their doctor's visits decreased, and they showed significant decreases in their stress hormones.

Since his early work on the effects of secret keeping, Pennebaker has focused much of his research on the healing power of expressive writing. In his book Writing to Heal, Pennebaker writes, "Since the mid-1980s an increasing number of studies have focused on the value of expressive writing as a way to bring about healing. The evidence is mounting that the act of writing about traumatic experience for as little as fifteen or twenty minutes a day for three or four days can produce measurable changes in physical and mental health. Emotional writing can also affect people's sleep habits, work efficiency, and how they connect with others."

Shame resilience is a practice and like Pennebaker, I think writing about our shame experiences is an incredibly powerful component of the practice. It takes time to cultivate that practice and courage to reach out and talk about hard things. If you're reading this and thinking, I'd like to be able to have these conversations with my partner or my friend or my child-do it! If you're reading it and thinking, Shame has become a management style around here, and it's no wonder that folks are disengaged-we should talk about this-do it! You don't need to figure it out first or master the information before you engage in conversation. You just have to say, "I've been reading a book and there's a chapter about shame. I'd love to talk about it with you. If I lend you my book, will you take a look?"

The next section is about men, women, shame, and worthiness. I think you'll want to lend them this chapter as well. What I learned about men and shame changed my life.

WEBS AND BOXES: HOW MEN AND WOMEN.