Compost #7: Shame

Holding myself in exactly the ways I was never held

Feb 22, 2026

Last week, one of my coworkers nodded off at his desk after doing drugs in the bathroom. He was fired immediately. A week of shit-talking and addiction shaming ensued. Everyone laughed and called him names—fucking loser, lowlife, the r-word. “How could he be so stupid?” they all asked.

Meanwhile, I sat at my desk and had a week-long low-grade panic attack. My whole body tensed. Breathing became difficult. My mind was flooded with memories of all the times I drank alcohol in my workplace’s bathroom, of all the times I was visibly intoxicated on the clock.

I tossed and turned every night last week. Counting sheep didn’t work. Instead, I found myself counting all the times I’ve walked in my coworker’s shoes.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, TEN.

Between 2011 and 2021, I lost ten different jobs due to my relationship with alcohol. During my darkest seasons, I cycled through employers monthly. To mask undiagnosed autism and ease sensory overwhelm, I got in the habit of having two drinks before an interview, getting hired, drinking on the job, and quitting before they could fire me.

Did everyone laugh and call me names after I was gone?

How could I be so stupid?

I’ve been to inpatient treatment six times. I’ve met hundreds of people who struggle with addiction, and every single one of us carries unrelenting shame. Like my coworker, I spent many years in the dark, unable to break free from contaminated soil.

The pervasiveness of addiction shaming inflicts a thousand wounds. For a decade, my shame spirals were so intense that they often accelerated into blood-splattering tornadoes.

I used to plead with God after getting caught drinking at work.

Help! I’m bleeding out. How am I supposed to bloom when everyone keeps calling me stupid? What do you mean by healing?

When visting old wounds
make sure to take off your shoes
and turn off your cellphone

Sit by candlelight
and watch how the shadows
tell the story of how brave you are

-to simply survive

(john roedel)

I’ve never heard anyone talk about addiction shame as a public health crisis, but in my experience, it most definitely is one.

Unresolved trauma lives beneath addiction. The language my coworkers used after witnessing another human being’s pain is violent. Believing that healing begins in cages is barbaric. Addiction stigma is debilitating and inhumane.

There is no mercy. There is only shame.

Luckily, I found a support group years ago that taught me to grow in polluted soil by trading shame for compassion. With time, I began to realize that the shame spiral never belonged to me. It belongs to white supremacist power structures that rely on shame to perpetuate for-profit cycles of harm. Big Alcohol, the War on Drugs, and the criminal injustice system have always exploited human suffering.

Wildflowering requires a daily, perhaps lifelong, shame composting practice. Wounds are still inflicted five years into my sobriety journey. But I’ve learned to stop the bleeding with candlelight and shadows that tell the story of how brave I am to simply survive.

All I mean

There are a thousand
wounds but all I mean
by healing is this:

that you learn to hold yourself
in exactly the ways
you were never held.

-James A. Pearson

Yes, as a person with a history of substance abuse, there are a thousand wounds. Like my coworker, I know how it feels to be immobilized by shame, to be covered in blood.

After several years of sitting by candlelight, however, I finally understand that I was never stupid. By composting shame, I’ve discovered an unshakable strength. There is tremendous power in standing up and saying, “No, I will not use violent language against myself or others.”

When visiting old wounds, I take off my shoes, turn off my cellphone, and get still enough to hear God.

Blooming is possible when you hold yourself in exactly the ways you were never held.

Yes, Wildflower girl, that’s all I mean by healing.

🌱 Shame Compost Equation:

Carbon (addiction shaming) + nitrogen (violent language, dehumanization) + water (tears) + oxygen (deep cleansing breaths) + the art of decay = a nutrient-rich product used to fertilize wildflower soil

🌷Affirmation: I hold myself in exactly the ways I was never held.

🌼 Journal Prompts: In what ways were you socialized to shame folks who struggle with addiction? What are you addicted to? How can you hold yourself in exactly the ways you were never held?

🪻Next Up: Compost #8: Doomscrolling

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