Riding the Elevator of Shame –


The door opened. The mass of human flesh sighed and shrank back.

I squeezed in with my platter of food held in front of me.

  • chunks of watermelon
  • heaps of salad fixings
  • a slice of beef brisket
  • two peanut butter cookies

Even though I faced the closed doors of the elevator, I knew.

All eyes were on me. Well, on my food that is.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

“The ride of shame,” I thought, “That’s what I’m on. The chubby girl carries the goodies home.”

I waited for the usual spread of heat in my cheeks, the sting of tears in my eyes.

You see,

I always figured that I was not like most people.

It was like a   nebulous flaw that rendered me just slightly less valuable than anyone else.

So I stayed constantly on guard.

  1. Never daring to be myself.
  2. Putting all my energy in anticipating what would please or impress other people.

Something’s changed.

cop_crown_princessMaybe it was the 80 plus blogs I’ve posted since February.

  • Expounding on theology.
  • Venting about social issues.
  • Ranting about whatever caught my fancy.

It took a few months but I edged out all the voices in my head that said “you better do this and you better do that.”

I started to write what I really thought.

Sure, I got a bit of feedback trying to shush my point a view or gently urging me to reframe my approach to certain subjects.

But, I found that saying what you really think is actually invigorating. Confidence building. Life changing.

As the elevator descended, I found the ride far from shameful.

I grinned. Almost laughed out loud.

When the doors slid open, I held up my platter and walked to away.

2 thoughts on “Riding the Elevator of Shame –

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