Playing Volleyball With Shameful, Hurtful Words

First published on chabad.org

The softly sung niggunim lifted the mood of a windy, bone-chilling evening. Our home was warmed by the students having their weekly farbrengen. All was normal; words of Torah were being shared and Israeli junk food was served.

I was in the other room—getting some work done or trying to—when I heard one of the boys in charge say to the other, “You’re never around.” He didn’t miss a beat. He threw right back, “What are you talking about, you are the one who is always slacking off!”

The boys grabbed their Bamba snacks. The one who had thrown the first emotional punch said, “Why don’t we keep insulting each other until we make the other person feel worse than ourselves to numb how badly we feel.”

The sobering reality was uncovered; the inner dimension of this fight was to cover up the shame that they both felt about the rocky past week. The still air turned into deep melodies as the squabble was averted. But I couldn’t focus on my work. I was busy contemplating how when we unveil our inner dimensions, our behavior is no longer such a mystery to us.

Our generation is prepared to know our inner depths and allow these depths to transform our lives from the inside out. When we heal things on a deep level, the surface-level dysfunction melts away.

A week passed, and blame was being thrown across the room between my husband and me about an unpaid bill and whose fault or responsibility it was. It was a toxic shame cocktail of perfect triggers, money and blame.

I didn’t want to deal with the shame, which made my stomach do somersaults. It was easier to throw the ball of shame over to my husband. He didn’t want it either, and so we played blame volleyball—back and forth, and back and forth.

I won the argument. Me being a seasoned pro, he didn’t really stand a chance.

The room turned in slow motion. I remembered the interaction at the farbrengen. As Ariel took on the blame, I realized that my shame didn’t lift. I was left with an emotional hangover.

What if I could hold my own emotions instead of throwing them on someone else? What if other people didn’t need to feel bad inside just because I do?

To love another like I love myself. Just as having blame and shame thrown on me isn’t something I want, even when technically, it is my fault, then why would I do that to someone else?

I justify it in the name of educating them or providing constructive criticism to help them improve. But really, I just don’t want to feel my feelings, so I surf them over the net.

Can I be brave enough to love someone as I love myself? To keep the ball of shame in my court, and feel and process what needs to be felt instead of ducking or serving it right back?

The key for me is remembering that the other person feeling bad doesn’t lift the shame. In fact, it digs it in deeper.

Shame lives in the shadows. It thrives on secrecy. Having its own moment in the sun to be felt sounds terrifying, and yet running from it is more painful than feeling it. Witnessing the sensations it creates and healing it brings gives birth to new wellsprings of creativity and strength.

I uncrossed my arms and untucked my knees from my chest, turned to Ariel and said: “We both feel bad about the situation. Let’s feel our individual discomfort together instead of trying to put all the bad feelings onto one of us.”

I know that doesn’t sound terribly romantic. Basically, I offered: “Let’s feel bad together.” But giving myself and my husband space to process our raw emotions felt like a new kind of love. It didn’t create exciting romance or passionate apologies, but that’s not exactly the lifestyle I’m going for. I don’t need the drama, nor the emotional hangover. I want to be emotionally responsible.

When we were able to both process our own embarrassment about the situation, the practical issue was smoothly solved.

When I operate on the surface level without looking deeper within, I am living on autopilot, and my internal settings aren’t always the kindest. But when I go in and heal what needs to be healed, I no longer need to play volleyball with my emotions.

It is said that what a farbrengen can accomplish, even the angel Michael cannot accomplish.