I went to the dentist for my twice-yearly cleaning this week. I hate the dentist. I really, really hate the dentist. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to cancel my appointment every time I see it on my calendar. Or just to be a no-show and suck up the $50 penalty for not giving 24-hour notice. I have no idea when or why this aversion to dental care started, but I can tell you it has gotten much worse in the last decade.
My dentist knows this and has generally been quite patient about it. But not this week. This week he was not happy with me and he did not hide it.
He asked me how often I floss. “Twice a week,” I admitted, thinking my honesty would be rewarded with understanding and leniency. It wasn’t.
He sat on my right and talked over my body about everything I was doing wrong with the dental hygienist, who sat on my left, nodded and piled on (mostly by not defending me). I felt like a child being scolded. But honestly I couldn’t hear everything he said. Each time he tried to engage me, I muttered “Hmmmm,” and turned up the volume on my podcast.
When he was done, I got up, said thank you and walked out. No one offered me one of those slippery little goody bags with a branded toothbrush. It felt like I was being punished. Maybe I was.
I had a pit in my stomach as I walked the two blocks back to my house. At first I was puzzled by the sickening sensation, but before I reached home, I realized what I was feeling: I was ashamed.
As I typed that last sentence, Google Docs automatically suggested I write “I was ashamed of myself.” I didn’t include those last two words, but they raise an important distinction. Shame is the result of feeling judged, criticized or rejected, but there’s a societal component to it, too. Shame is about falling short of some idealized version of self — either yours or someone else’s. It goes beyond guilt, making you feel unworthy.
I was uncomfortable about the whole interaction — confused about my emotions. But I was also suddenly so clear about one thing: I have definitely shamed my children. I recognized their petulant behavior in my own reaction to being chastised. I have definitely caused the same confused, defensive reaction I was currently experiencing.
Holy crap, I thought, I’m a horrible mother. But that was the shame talking. Guilt recognizes “I did something bad.” Shame makes you believe “I am bad.”
So I did something bad: I failed to floss daily. But I am not a bad person because there is plaque between my teeth. I have shamed my children. But I am not a bad mother because I have made this mistake.
I was reminded of KC Davis, author of “How to Keep House While Drowning,” who emphasizes the moral neutrality of care tasks, like doing the dishes and vacuuming. “Being good or bad at [these tasks] has nothing to do with being a good person, parent, man, woman, spouse, friend. Literally nothing. You are not a failure because you can’t keep up with laundry.” Or flossing. Or your homework.
And that’s reassuring. Not only because shame is a terrible feeling, but also because it’s a terrible long-term motivator. Which brings me back to the parenting aspect of this epiphany.
When it comes to raising children, there’s a very fine line between feedback and the kind of criticism that causes shame. It is, I realize, a line I’ve crossed far too many times. But I do have one success story to share.
When my middle child was going through the roughest period of her life, when she was 19 and struggling with anorexia and other destructive behaviors, she didn’t live with us. She needed medical treatment and refused it. She was rude and disrespectful. So we told her she couldn’t live in our home. We needed that boundary for our own sanity and for our younger child, who still had to follow our rules.
We found her a short-term rental nearby and she lived there until she was ready to get help. But it was rough. She struggled to keep up with simple tasks like doing the dishes and cleaning her bathroom because she had other, much bigger battles to fight. Her apartment wasn’t just dirty, it was disgusting. And the shame she felt about that prevented her from asking for help. When we realized how bad things had gotten, we tried to approach her with compassion.
“You’re overwhelmed, aren’t you?” I asked, one day when I realized she was in the right physical and mental space for a difficult conversation. She nodded as tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s hard to figure out where to begin, isn’t it?” She nodded again, but refused to make eye contact.
“What if Dad came over on Saturday and did a ‘no judgment’ cleaning with you?” I asked. She was confused. “You’re not in trouble,” I explained. “You need help. So Dad will come over and help you get it done. No judgment. No commentary. No criticism.” She liked this idea, which was 100% my husband’s.
She agreed. And it worked. The safety of knowing she wasn’t going to be punished or shamed gave her the courage to do the work and the ability to accept my husband’s gentle guidance. This approach doesn’t always work — even with the same kid — but it showed me what’s possible when we stop shaming and start problem-solving with empathy.
So how can you recognize shame and stop sharing it? The folks at Harvard Health offer this very helpful framework (and although they wrote it for parents dealing with kids, you could use the same method with another adult or even yourself):
Always ask yourself these two questions before criticizing your child:
Is this something they can change?
Is it important that they change it?
If the answer to both is yes, then ask yourself:
Is this a good place and time to say anything?
Do they want to change this behavior?
If your kid doesn’t want to change the behavior, you’ll have to think of a different way to manage it, which brings us to the most important question of all:
Is there a better way of changing this behavior?
This last question is the hardest to address, but the answer is often yes. Whether you’re a dentist dealing with a reluctant flosser or a parent dealing with a struggling child, taking that alternate route is the best way to protect that person’s self-esteem and preserve your long-term relationship with them.
I can’t explain why I don’t floss daily. But I can tell you that I do lots of other things that are good for my physical and mental health. I prioritize sleep and get up early every morning to write. I take the supplements my doctors tell me I need. I walk instead of driving and take the stairs over the elevator whenever possible. I almost never miss a workout. I get regular pap smears and mammograms. Oh, and did I mention this: I don’t have a single cavity and the entire cleaning took less than 30 minutes. I mean, come on, how bad can my oral hygiene be?
This week I made a choice to focus on what I do do instead of what I don’t. I’ve embraced what KC Davis calls “adaptive imperfection.” “We aren’t settling for less,” she explains, “we are engaging in adaptive routines that help us live and function and thrive.”
Good enough, she reminds us, is perfect — for us and our kids.
So helpful to use the framing of a thing or behavior I did vs who I am. 💗
Great article! Shame can be so counterproductive to what we are actually trying to accomplish as parents-the struggle real!