Shame of nakedness
Friday, June 4, 2010 at 10:27PM 
Year and years ago, perhaps 10 or so, I used to have sensations of overwhelming shame when I saw myself naked. I nearly forgot about them, until they surfaced in therapy again. They no longer happen, but they were part of my life and as I remember them now, I shudder in pain.
When I would go into the bathroom and undress to take a shower, a wave of shame would wash over my body, over my breasts, over my stomach. It's hard to explain how it feels - for a few seconds, I physically felt every little cell of my skin, especially in the chest and stomach area. Then the feeling of disgust and hate would overwhelm me, to the point when I would try to rip off my own skin. I would turn into a ball, cowering, hiding the front of my body. I would feel humiliated, disgusted, ashamed. I could hardly breathe. And then it would be over. I hated these bouts, and was terrified of going to the shower of fear that they would overwhelm me again. On top of that, I would have recurring nightmares of being naked on public, of everyone pointing their finger at me and laughing. Most times it would be people I know - co-workers, friends. I would try to cover up my bottom with my hands, then my chest, then my bottom again, each time realizing that I only have two hands and they don't cover too much. Sometimes I would have some clothes on top, but I would always be naked on the bottom. Or I would be trying to pee, but somehow the toilet would be situated in the most public place, with people milling around and pointing their fingers at me. I no longer have those dreams. I now know where they were coming from. But living with them was hell.
I used to hate my body - everything about it seemed wrong to me. The legs seemed too short, the shoulders too square, the butt too large, arms too thin, the neck too long, the breasts too high. I used to buy ridiculous clothes, trying to hide behind them, trying to cover up my nakedness and shame. I would either wear things too tight, or too big. I would scrutinize my skin and squeeze out any pimples I found - I hated my skin, so I looked everywhere - on my thighs, on my arms, on my forehead. I am still beating the habit of doing it. I would wash myself with a rough washcloth until my skin turned red, and I would keep doing it. I didn't realize that what I was trying to do was getting rid of the feeling of shame. I also didn't know where it was coming from, and I thought I had an obsessive-compulsive disorder. It wasn't, and It is now nearly gone.
I learned to be at peace with my body, to stop hating and hurting it. To feed it when it is hungry; to clothe it in comfortable clothes, not too tight and not too large; to apply cream to it so it wouldn't feel chapped from being too dry. I still have a hard time seeing myself naked, but it has lost its edge now. I'm ok with it. I still need to learn to let my body have enough sleep - going to bed is still something that I put off until I am absolutely exhausted. And, of course, sex is another avoidance. I sometimes wonder of I will ever again want it in my life, if I will find it pleasurable. I wonder how much more patience my husband has, but I am taking it slowly. The overwhelming sense of shame is gone, and there is more love. I'm learning to love my body, to love my skin. To love myself, as I am, naked.
Photo courtesy of Michael Ryan Norton.
Reader Comments (2)
Awesome article. I just published a HUB on Pop Up Incest Memories; thought you might be interested. Have a lovely weekend and be good to yourself, always!
Garnetbird
Gloria,
thanks - I am interested - what's the link to your article? And thanks for commenting - let's connect.
Ksenia