Enough of the shaming, blaming, taming thought loops

A love letter to you

Feb 12, 2025

As I explained a few weeks ago, I’m writing weekly on where YOU define what enough is, thank you very much. I’ve written about what that means for enough self-abandonment, having more fun, getting enough head space, getting enough of working to rest. This week, it’s all about the luuuuuuuuurve.

“Who are you without your parent’s influence, or who would you be without your specific upbringing?”

I was standing on the edge of a cliff (physically, if also a little metaphorically) in Donegal as the blustering Atlantic winds whipped around my face. I’d left my kids in the rented holiday cottage further back to have a much-needed session with a Family Therapist I was seeing to help me navigate the joys and jolts of single parenting three teenage girls (during and) after my divorce.

An act of love.

Me, having this support. Not her asking me that question. More on love acts later.

I’d been particularly exorcised by the fact that I was so overwhelmed with it all, I’d get caught up in negative thought loops, that led me to lose my temper and shout. I wasn’t even necessarily shouting AT my kids, but at them, over them, through them, generally, to the whole fucking patriarchal world, the walls and frankly anyone who would listen. Which was also frankly, no-one. When I launched into a rant, the dog retreated to his bed, the kids retreated behind rolled eyes and airbudded ears and I felt abandoned and abused. Which generally led to more ranting and some crying and possibly a slammed door. It just all felt so desperate, I had told my therapist!

It was so relentless because now on top of the emotional exhaustion from the rant, the original frustration of feeling overwhelmed with being responsible for everything and everyone, I now had to contend with the engulfing guilt that weighted me down so bad I thought I’d just sink through the hard rock beneath me. It’s the constant thought loops of despair and judgement that ruin us in the end. The call is coming from inside the house. And frankly I was sick of always answering it. AND I was sounding just like my mum AND my dad which was even more depressing.

So as I stood on the edge of the cliff, she asked me: who do I think I would be if I hadn’t been role-modelled that behaviour?

My parents were loving and kind, curious and creative - and - like many adults in that era - had no tools or language to articulate or express their own feelings well. There was shouting. My mum would constantly say “I’m stressed” and I noticed that I used the exact same language. (Since then, whenever I hear myself say that, I stop and question it. Am I actually stressed? More often than not, the answer is no. I might be tired, annoyed, rushed, under pressure, but not stressed. It was a learned reaction with awful consequences…. When we tell ourselves we are stressed, we feel stressed). But back to my parents. They expressed frustration, annoyance, fear, overwhelm through shouting. It’s just what they did.

How much of me - the actual real ME - is nurture and how much is nature?

Was I simply reacting in a way role-modelled to me, or…..could I change how I respond to certain emotions?

This question and my study and exploration of psychology has changed my life - and is the core of my work as a coach for women, many of whom experience overwhelm, or change. Most of them live with negative thought loops and reactions that cloud their peace of mind. Women are often socialised to minimise our innate nature and are nurtured into the Good Girl Curriculum of being all things to all people and don’t complain. And we react to not feeling seen and heard and loved and supported because we smothered our self-nurture to see, hear, love and support ourselves.

Women were told to love externally, and shamed, blamed and tamed from loving inwardly.

Who am I, I thought on that cliff. And the wind whispered back, you are love.

I’d been through a lot, but sadly, had never really supported myself. I felt anger hurtling through my body at the unfairness of it all: the grief of my mum’s stroke and five years of subsequent care before her death; the betrayal of finding out my husband was gay; the panic at not feeling able to keep it all together for everyone when all I really needed was someone to hug me. I then remembered another thing a counsellor had once told me - you are the hand on your back and suddenly it made sense.

And it was the beginning of a new love affair in my life. Not with a man, not with my kids or family and friends; but with myself. I wanted to live with more love, and be the love I needed to feel. If I got to know myself, MY self, I can perhaps respond better than I react. It’s not about being falsely positive. It’s about choosing which reaction and which response is going to make me the person I think I really am.

And it starts with love.

I work with women every day who tell me how harsh they are to themselves. The most important words you ever - and always - hear are the ones you say to yourself. And so I help them find ways to be a better loving presence rather than a critical judge. It’s not easy because we were nurtured out of our nature. But:

You can be loving AND have boundaries.

You can be kind AND have ambition.

You can be gentle and supportive and understanding AND get shit done.

So as I continue this practise of learning to live with love, responding to my fear and frustrations with first understanding why I’m feeling them, then how I can support myself better and then choosing how to respond I get closer to my truer version of me. It is a practice though, because I’m unlearning all the lessons I was taught growing up of how a woman was supposed to be. And yes, I absolutely still throw an absolute shit show tantrum occasionally, as my daughters will tell you. Last week, in fact.

But now I know, it’s because I am letting the overwhelm thought loops of blame and shame drown me instead of putting my hand on my back and say “I’ve got you.” I get there faster and faster now.

I’ve been pretty harsh on myself over the years; like many (most?) women, I was raised in the religion of the Good Girl Church - smile, be pleasant, please, care, give, and despite my generation being given the chances and choices many before had not, there was still an underlying leash - you can run into the possibilities but don’t get too ahead of yourself.

I was born in 1970, which meant in my formative teenage years, I spent several years praying for boobs to arrive. And arrive they did! I went from being a scrawny adolescent into what I would now lovingly call voluptuous young woman. But the body du jour was Heroin Chic Kate Moss, so I ended up awkwardly not quite knowing what to do with them after they did arrive. Point being, I was nurtured to hate my body. I have been so cruel to myself for decades for not looking “right” I let societal nurture override my natural belief that actually, I’m quite ok, thank you very much.

I had a client this week in her 50’s who is amazing on paper, and a failure in her head. In fact it’s hard for me to pick just one client for this story from the many who have the thought loops thwacking their self-esteem, because it’s how we were nurtured to be.

I’d asked her what the dominant tone was she used with herself, and her answer was “demanding.” Although our work is about her career next steps. much of the background magic is in helping her see herself in a different light. Not a falsely positive one, but a lens that is also very real but one she hasn’t been choosing to look through.

And it starts with love.

So as Valentine’s approaches I’d love you to know this is the most important time to be looking after yourself whatever your age. I am 55 next week. So rather than think about how old I’ve got, I realise that this next five years from 55 to 60 are the most important time for me to invest in my health, fitness and happiness. What I do now - every day - for the next five years will impact the quality of my life in the following 10, 15, 20 years. That requires an act of love. Many acts of love, in fact.

That’s the same that if you’re 40 and you’re really struggling with kids; or 45 as you approach menopause. Or 50, or 30.

Every day. Invest in yourself for your future self. Because from every age, life is an experiment. It’s a constant experiment on who you can become - who you are naturally, not as you were socialised and nurtured to be. My 50 year old self would never believe that I got up at 6am to go to a weight training class. That is who I’ve become. As well as a woman who tries to listen to her nature, and choose a different way to respond to frustration.

This week we’ll hear lots about love. But the most important love a woman has is for herself.

I absolutely love hearing from you, so please join me in the comments below (if you’re reading this in an email, please click on the link below to go through to the website to join the conversation.)

Enough of the shaming, blaming, taming thought loops

A love letter to you

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