Moving from Shame to Curiosity

Shame has been coming up a lot in my practice and with my clients. I’ve also been noticing it in the books I’m reading and the trainings I’ve been taking. One thing that continues to come up in my work with clients is the language we use around guilt and shame. People often use these words interchangeably, or they aren’t quite sure of the difference, so they use whichever word comes most easily. But I believe there is an important distinction.

Brené Brown often talks about the difference between guilt and shame. Guilt is about our behavior: I did something wrong. Shame, on the other hand, is about who we believe we are: I am bad.

When we feel guilty about something we’ve done, there may be an opportunity to take responsibility, repair a relationship, and find forgiveness. Shame is different. It carries an internal judgment about who we are, often sounding something like, I’m too much. I’m not enough. I’m unlovable.

My clients will often describe getting caught in a shame spiral that can last anywhere from an hour to several days. From a nervous system perspective, shame can show up in different ways. We might turn inward, becoming smaller, withdrawing, or shutting down. Or we might turn outward through defensiveness, anger, or lashing out as we try to protect ourselves from feeling exposed or vulnerable.

Shame is a powerful emotion, and our bodies often work hard to protect us from experiencing it. Sometimes we defend ourselves, sometimes we disconnect, and sometimes we turn against ourselves. These responses can happen so quickly that we may not even recognize shame as what we’re experiencing.

In her book Where Do You Feel That in Your Body?, Simone Saunders discusses curiosity as an antidote to shame. I find this idea especially meaningful because it isn’t simply about trying to think more positively or replacing negative thoughts with positive ones. It’s about shifting from judgment to curiosity.

Instead of responding to the thought, I’m too much with another judgment about ourselves, we might pause and ask, I’m feeling a lot right now. Where am I noticing that in my body?

Instead of getting caught in the thought I’m unlovable. Nobody will ever care for me, we might gently shift toward, I’m feeling lonely right now. What do I need? What would help me feel supported?

This shift may seem small, but it changes the way we relate to ourselves. Rather than treating our feelings as evidence that something is wrong with us, we begin to approach them as experiences that deserve our attention and compassion.

A few years ago, I worked with a client who had experienced betrayal in a long-term relationship. She had trusted this person completely, so the betrayal blindsided her. She never saw it coming, and ultimately, she made the decision to end the relationship.

One of the things she brought into our sessions was the belief, “Something is wrong with me. Nobody will ever love me for who I am.”

Together, we slowed things down. Rather than trying to challenge the thought or convince her that it wasn’t true, we paused and noticed what was happening in her body as she said those words. She described a tightness in her chest and a knot in her stomach.

At first, we simply noticed. We observed the sensations without judgment, without trying to change them, and without needing them to go away. We allowed ourselves to become curious about what she was experiencing.

As we stayed with the sensations, we gently wondered what they might be communicating. What might these sensations be telling her? Was there something they wanted her to know? What might they need?

We gave her time to notice what emerged, allowing space for any emotions, thoughts, or shifts in her body to come forward without forcing an outcome.

As she stayed with the experience, she began to recognize the fear and worry underneath her shame. She had developed a story about her future: that she would be alone for the rest of her life and would never have the family she so deeply desired.

Beneath the belief that something was wrong with her was a deep fear of being alone, of losing the future she had imagined, and of never experiencing the love she longed for.

As we continued to sit with these emotions, she was able to ask herself a different question: What do I need right now?

Her answer was self-compassion. She needed to tend to herself, acknowledge the pain she was experiencing, and offer herself some of the care and gentleness she needed in that moment.

Nothing about her circumstances had suddenly changed. The betrayal had still happened, and the uncertainty about her future remained. But something had shifted in how she was relating to herself. Rather than treating her pain as evidence that something was wrong with her, she was beginning to recognize it as a response to something deeply hurtful.

This is what I find so meaningful about the shift from shame to curiosity. We don't necessarily need to convince ourselves that our painful thoughts are untrue or immediately replace them with something more positive. Sometimes, we need to slow down enough to understand what is happening beneath them.

When we can access curiosity while also helping our nervous system feel regulated and safe enough, we create space to understand what is happening beneath the shame. We may begin to notice the hurt, loneliness, fear, or unmet need that has been hidden beneath our self-judgment.

And perhaps this is where healing begins: not by forcing ourselves to stop feeling shame, but by learning to meet ourselves differently when it shows up. Instead of turning against ourselves, we can become curious about what we are experiencing and what we might need in that moment.

Sometimes, what we need most is not another reason to judge ourselves, but the opportunity to offer ourselves the understanding, compassion, and care we have been longing for.