Shame
Shame creeps in when you least expect it. It destroys confidence, feeds self-loathing, and steals joy — especially when you’re doing your best and still feel like you’re failing. For some, shame is a fleeting visitor. For others, like me, it tries to settle in and stay.
A New Start and High Hopes
The school year of 2020–2021 was going to be the hardest year of my life, I told myself. In December 2019, the pastor of the church I grew up in offered me the part-time worship minister job, and my husband and I felt the Holy Spirit prompting us to move back to our hometown. Despite numerous obstacles, God opened every door: affordable housing, jobs for both of us, moving help, and childcare for our one-year-old daughter. We moved in July 2020, mid-quarantine. My new school district was fully remote, and I had just enrolled in an online master’s program. A new home, a new job, a new degree, a new ministry — on top of being a wife and mom. I was in for quite the ride, and I was excited to begin.
The Mantra That Carried Me
To keep myself motivated, I repeated a mantra: “I am a wife, a mother. I work a full-time job and a part-time job. At the end of this year, I will have a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree.”
Then, just before my birthday in November 2020, I found out I was pregnant with our second child — due days after I would complete my master’s degree. So I adjusted my mantra: “…and I will have done it all while pregnant.”
That year was hard. I was sick throughout my pregnancy. Teaching on Zoom was draining as students dropped off, disengaged. Parenting a toddler during a pandemic while doing grad school was overwhelming. But every time I felt the pressure, I reminded myself of the finish line: a degree, a new baby, and four months of maternity leave. By July, holding my newborn in my arms, I felt like I had conquered a mountain.
But what I had really walked through was a valley of plenty — a season overflowing with God’s provision, not my performance.
When Shame Took Root
I was set to return to work after Thanksgiving break and was genuinely excited. I had found childcare for both girls and was ready to teach again. It was a rocky restart — my sub had been inconsistent — but I was getting back on track. Then, our 4-month-old struggled with the transition to daycare. We expected this, but what we didn’t expect was the judgment from friends and even some family.
Criticism like “You don’t care about your baby,” or “You’re breaking her like a horse,” hit me hard. Shame began to creep in. But things calmed down, our baby adjusted, and I thought the worst had passed.
Then, just three weeks after returning, my whole family got sick, and I missed a full week of work and no subs were available. My students missed music, and teachers lost prep time. I emailed my principal to apologize, and her response was kind: “Your health and your family’s health are more important.”
But the cycle had begun.
Burnout, Guilt, and Letting Go
From that point on, the year became a blur of missed work, canceled plans, and deepening shame. If it wasn’t my children getting sick, it was school closures due to COVID exposures. I felt like I was letting everyone down — my colleagues, my students, my worship team, my family.
The year before, I had faced enormous challenges, but I had felt in control. This year, I had none. And that lack of control allowed shame to take root.
Three months after returning, I applied for a leave of absence. It was denied due to staffing shortages. Then, my infant’s daycare downsized, and I had just a few weeks to find a new one. I considered quitting but feared breaching my contract. More missed days. More apologetic emails. More shame.
I started noticing nervous habits — rubbing my hands until they were raw (something I later discovered was a stim for my ADHD). I ran on fumes. I shouldn’t have been driving some days due to sleep deprivation, but I kept going. I feared that stopping would make everything fall apart.
Searching for Solidarity
In the thick of it, I searched for other moms — someone who had been through this. I found a blog post or two. A book about shame and addiction through a Christian lens. But not much for moms like me. So I began researching shame — the difference between shame and guilt — and something stirred. Maybe if there aren’t enough voices speaking to Christian moms about this, I could be one.
Maybe someone else, sitting in shame and exhaustion, needs to know she’s not alone.
A Door Closes
The school year ended. My principal signed off on my room and said, “Have fun playing mommy.” As I drove away, I cried — not out of grief, but relief. That chapter had closed.
There is more to the story. More that happened after that summer. And I plan to share it — not because I have all the answers, but because I believe God works in our brokenness. Through those two years — the abundance and the burnout — God carried me. His Word, His presence in worship, and the community of believers helped me hold on.
Am I done with shame? No. I think I’ll wrestle with it for the rest of my life. But I know this: I am a new creation in Christ. And in His image, there is no shame.
If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your story. Subscribe for more reflections and encouragement, or connect with me on Instagram @Grace_Over_Shame. Let’s remind each other that we are not alone — and that grace wins, always.
