The Waning Moon-When Shame Came to Rest

"Shame is the most powerful master-emotion. It's the fear that we are not good enough" — Brene Brown

January of 2023, I sat in the spot I had carefully selected, and fully committed to, in a circle of other women gathered listening in on a trauma-informed training session. This would be my introduction to the word “somatic”.

As I sat here on this day, in this moment, on this very spot, half listening to the conversation while simultaneously finding myself mesmerized by the clear blue sky and the reflecting ocean…curious about how you almost couldn’t tell where one ended and one began, my ears picked up on a word.

A word that made my ears ring.

A heavy sigh left my body…had I been holding my breath?

My body sought the back of my chair and in that slip of a moment, I was fully listening.

Shame. The subject was Shame.

I knew this visitor all too well.

When Shame Came to Rest

The moon is waning—softening from her fullness, curving inward like a breath.
The light no longer revealed everything. It invited reflection.

That’s when Shame arrived. 

First, my ears began to ring. My shoulders stiffened, my body braced itself, as if for some unknown impact. My breath caught in my throat. I waited for the inevitable shattering of glass. It never came. 

Instead…this time, She didn’t knock. Why would she.

But this time, she didn’t storm. 

Curiosity sets in. “Hello? What are you doing here? What do you want?” My words shaking, broken…maybe only even in my head.

There she sat, as real and solid as you or I, on the edge of my bed, hands folded in her lap, eyes lowered.“I came to show you what still aches,” she whispered. 

I had never slowed down enough to see her before. Yet here she was, sitting right across from me as if we were friends. Were we friends? I only knew that she lived somewhere between my head and my heart. I only knew that she never announced herself and preferred to skirt along the edges of every waking moment of my life. 

This time…I didn’t flinch. I didn’t fight.

She pointed to a memory I’d buried in silence. A moment I’d wrapped in apology.

A truth I’d been too tender to touch…a wash of odors, sounds, sensations brushed over me, and now my own pale flesh took on a crimson blush. Her words brought the heat of dis-ease to my chest, up my neck, where it settled on my face. 

My jaw set, my shoulders shifted up towards my ears. And I listened still. 

Gripping as if a blow was coming. It never came. I sat. I waited. I let it come and I let it go.

When it was over, I opened my eyes and looked across at her. Now, she was also looking back at me. Recognition waved over me. I knew who this was. I knew that face no less than I knew my own. She was me, and I was her…but she was tired. 

“What is it? What is the matter?” I ask. My words came out almost as a mumble…half broken. 

“I need to go”. Her words were steady, monotone, but direct. 

“Okay, then go. Why don’t you just go?” I can hear the emotion in my own voice. Still broken with an edge in my tone. 

“Because you won’t let me.” Still monotone, emotionless. 

“What do you mean? I don’t want you here. I feel awful when you are here. I hate how you make me feel!” My words are quick, firm, and also unsure. 

“Then why won’t you let me leave?” Her words factual, exact...solid with a hint of urgency. 

I can sense Anger and Rage coming up inside of me. I wonder, for just a moment, if they will also manifest as another living being in front of me. I cannot hold eye contact with her any longer. My head drops, I stare into the nothingness in front of me. My own hair hangs loose in front of my face, tears choke up from my throat, I cannot stop them from their journy down my cheeks, dripping off the edge of my chin. 

She reaches out, places her hands over mine.

“Why won’t you let me go?”  There is nothing but tenderness and patience in her tone. I see her hand over mine. Pale and flush with crimson. 

“Why won't you let me go? It's time. You've kept me for far too long. Let me go.”

Waning Moon Ritual: Tending the Ache Purpose: 

To honor what shame reveals and offer it gentle tending. Materials (optional):

• A candle or soft light
• A warm drink
• A journal or piece of paper
• A small bowl of water or salt

1. Create a quiet space. Light your candle. Wrap yourself in something soft.
2. Sip and settle. Hold your drink. Let warmth enter your body.
3. Write the ache. On your paper, name what shame has shown you. Be gentle. Be brief.
4. Tend it. Place the paper in the bowl. Sprinkle salt or water over it. Whisper:
   “I see you. I tend you. I release you.”
5. Close with breath. Three deep breaths. On each exhale:
   “I honor the ache. I welcome the healing.”