The Trajectory of Shame

By Kelsi TurnerOctober 7, 2024

What is the trajectory of shame over a lifetime? A lifetime.

In the throes of anorexia, I remember wanting to be thin at any cost. My body and mind were wasting away, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the number on the scale and keeping myself thin. I thought I was in control—but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. My eating disorder had long since taken over. I was a shell of who I used to be. I became a walking, talking eating disorder in the flesh. It took years of struggle before I finally surrendered and accepted that I needed help. Recovery was a long, hard-fought road. I didn’t think I would ever get better, but today, being fully recovered is the greatest accomplishment of my life.

I realized that my eating disorder was just an unhealthy coping mechanism. So was my self-harm and all the other things I was using to numb the pain in my life. See, secrets make us sick and when we don’t name our pain, the roots permeate through everything.

When we try to bury our pain, it always comes out in other ways. Addictions, eating disorders, hoarding, you name it. Society whispers to us that our pain is too much to bare, so we learn to hide it away. We don’t name it. We don’t face it head-on. We keep it hidden. We become sick as shame’s poison works its way like a silent wrecking ball through our lives.

The only way out is through.

Once I was well enough from my eating disorder, I was finally able to begin the deep excavation necessary to not only name my pain but to face it as well. In my childhood, I witnessed a lot of trauma. I carried the shame of sexual abuse with me as it permeated every facet of my existence. My eating disorder was never truly about looks, popularity, or whatever other benign thing most people get wrong about the illness. My eating disorder was a safety blanket. I was able to take control of my body after others had taken so much from me. My thinness was my armor to keep people away from me.

It wasn’t until my 30s that I could name my pain. I know I will spend the rest of my life healing from what happened to me as a child. It doesn’t mean that I will spend the rest of my life suffering though. I am learning who I am for the first time outside of my eating disorder and the other coping mechanisms I used to function and stay alive. I am now building that big, beautiful life I always dreamed of having. I am learning that I am so much more than my trauma. Life ebbs and flows. My existence will never be perfect, but the effects of abuse no longer have to dictate how I live. I am allowed to heal, to love and be loved, to thrive, and to step into my full power.

The trajectory of shame over a lifetime is a lifetime. Yet, it doesn’t have to be this way. You have permission to name your pain. You have permission to heal and grow and thrive despite whatever wrongs that have been done to you in the past.

You are so much more than your trauma and the ways in which you are coping.

I never thought that I would heal from my eating disorder or be healing from the root of it all. Yet, here I am. Some days, I think doing the work will be the end of me. Being stripped raw and not knowing if I’m going to make it through. But somehow, I do. And you will, too.

Although your mind will try to tell you you’re the only one going through this, you’re not. Trusted people who love you are going to have your back and will walk this road alongside you. I promise. Keep putting one foot in front of the other and remember to breathe. You are much more than your pain. You are a survivor. Go and live your big, beautiful life. I cannot wait to see how you will thrive.


You are strong enough to heal from the heavy you carry. We encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool to locate professional help and to read more stories like this one here. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor. If it’s encouragement or a listening ear that you need, email our team at [email protected].

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Comments (1)

  1. Jeff

    Beautifully put! It takes courage to share your journey like this. Hopefully others will be inspired to take their first steps on their own road to recovery.

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