Shame: How is it possibly protecting you?

Understanding shame, the inner critic, and the protection underneath them

Shame can be brutal. Sometimes it's loud: Why did I say that? Why am I like this? I should have known better. They're going to think I'm ridiculous. I need to fix this. We can hear the criticism and know exactly what's happening.

But sometimes there aren't words at all. You just want to disappear. Your gaze drops, your body gets smaller, and suddenly you want to leave the room, end the conversation, delete the post, take back what you said, explain yourself, apologize, or somehow become less visible.

And sometimes shame is even quieter than that. Someone gives you a compliment and you can't quite let it in. Someone gets close and suddenly you want distance. You make a tiny mistake and spend the next three hours replaying it. Someone's tone changes and you're immediately searching for what you did wrong. Or you're about to do something that matters to you and suddenly a voice appears telling you all the reasons you shouldn't.

We tend to think of shame as the problem, and understandably so. It hurts. But I think there's another question worth asking: what if the part of you that is so hard on you learned that being hard on you was one of the ways it could protect you?

Shame Is Deeply Relational

Shame doesn't exist only in what we think about ourselves. It often shows up around being seen.

What will happen if someone sees this part of me? What happens if I get it wrong, disappoint someone, need something, become too loud or emotional or visible? What happens if I let someone close enough to actually know me?

For many of us, shame developed in relationship. Maybe certain parts of us weren't welcomed. Maybe mistakes brought criticism. Maybe having needs created conflict. Maybe visibility wasn't safe. Maybe belonging depended on being easy, helpful, successful, quiet, agreeable, independent, or whatever else the people around us needed us to be.

So our systems learned: Don't do that. Don't show that. Don't need that. Don't let them see.

And eventually, we may not need another person to deliver those messages anymore. We learn to deliver them to ourselves.

Shame Has a Body

Sometimes we notice the thought first, but often the body is already responding. The eyes look away. The head drops. The shoulders round. The chest caves inward. The stomach tightens. Heat moves into the face. Maybe there's an impulse to cover your face, curl inward, or physically make yourself smaller.

Or perhaps shame brings activation instead. Suddenly you need to do something — explain, apologize, fix, check, reassure, make sure the other person isn't upset.

And sometimes everything simply disappears. The body gets heavy. Words become difficult. You go blank. You can't access what you were feeling a moment ago. You want to be anywhere other than where you are.

There can be an incredibly powerful impulse underneath shame: Don't let me be seen like this.

Which is why simply telling ourselves you shouldn't be ashamed doesn't necessarily change much. Our thinking brain may understand perfectly well that we've done nothing wrong while another part of us is already trying desperately to hide.

Why Would Shame Ever Be Protective?

This is where shame gets interesting.

Imagine being a child in a relationship you depend on. Something happens that hurts you. You're criticized, rejected, ignored, punished, humiliated, or overwhelmed. Or perhaps the people around you simply don't have the capacity to respond to your emotions, needs, mistakes, or vulnerability.

A child can't easily conclude, This person I depend on doesn't have the capacity to meet me. Because what do you do with that? You need the relationship.

Sometimes a much more survivable conclusion is: It must be me.

If I'm the problem, maybe I can fix me. If I can be quieter, perhaps this won't happen. If I can stop needing so much, maybe they'll stay. If I can figure out exactly what everyone wants, maybe I won't upset anyone. If I criticize myself first, maybe I can prevent someone else from doing it. If I never make that mistake again, maybe I won't feel this pain again.

Shame can create an illusion of control in circumstances where we had very little.

And that's part of what can make it so difficult to simply “let go” of.

The Inner Critic Isn't Usually Criticizing You for Fun

The inner critic can be incredibly harsh, and I'm not interested in pretending otherwise. Understanding a protective part does not mean we have to like what it does.

But I'm often curious about what happens when we ask:

What does this part believe would happen if it stopped?

What if it stopped monitoring you? What if it stopped reminding you of every mistake? What if it let you post the thing, wear the thing, say no, rest, ask for something, take up space, trust someone, or let someone really see you?

Often, underneath You're embarrassing there may be Please don't let us be rejected. Underneath You should have known better there may be Please don't let that happen again. Underneath You're too much there may be Please don't give them a reason to leave. And underneath You need to get yourself together there may be I don't know what happens if we aren't in control.

The message can be incredibly painful, and the protection underneath it can still make sense.

Both can be true.

We Can Sit With Shame Without Agreeing With It

This distinction matters enormously to me.

Curiosity does not mean maybe the shame is right. Compassion does not mean validating maybe I really am too much, maybe I really am unlovable, maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

We're not validating the story shame tells. We're making room for the experience underneath it.

Those are very different things.

Instead of arguing, No! I'm NOT embarrassing! I'm wonderful! we might notice, Wow. Something in me feels incredibly exposed right now.

Instead of I shouldn't feel ashamed about this, perhaps we notice, There's a lot of shame here. What happened?

Instead of immediately reassuring ourselves that nobody is mad at us, maybe we recognize, Something in me is very afraid that I've damaged this relationship.

We don't have to confirm the fear in order to accompany the part of us that is afraid.

That's what sitting with shame can look like.

Sometimes Self-Compassion Makes Shame Louder

This is another part I think deserves more conversation.

We often talk about self-compassion as though it should immediately feel good. But imagine you've spent years believing that being hard on yourself is what keeps you accountable, acceptable, productive, safe, or connected. And then someone tells you to be kinder to yourself.

A protective part may hear something very different: Stop paying attention. Let your guard down. Become complacent. Let yourself make mistakes. Risk being rejected.

Of course there may be resistance.

Sometimes the inner critic becomes louder when we begin changing our relationship with ourselves. Not because self-compassion isn't working, but because some part of us isn't yet convinced that compassion is safe.

That deserves curiosity too.

What Happens When Shame Is Met in Relationship?

If shame often develops relationally, it makes sense that relationship can also become part of how we experience something new.

Imagine sharing something you expect another person to judge. Your body braces. Your gaze drops. You're waiting for the look.

And instead, they stay.

They don't rush to reassure you. They don't recoil. They don't shame you for feeling shame. They remain curious, present, connected.

Perhaps you look away and nobody demands eye contact. Perhaps you go quiet and nobody fills the silence. Perhaps you feel the impulse to hide and discover that you can have that impulse without the relationship disappearing.

Those moments can matter enormously because the nervous system gets new information:

I was seen, and connection remained.

Over time, perhaps we begin learning to offer ourselves some version of that same experience.

What Might Be Underneath Shame?

Sometimes underneath the criticism is fear: fear of rejection, abandonment, getting something wrong, disappointing someone, being exposed, or losing belonging.

And sometimes there is grief. Anger. A need. A boundary. A longing to be seen. A part of us that learned a very long time ago that being fully ourselves might cost us connection.

We don't need to dig underneath shame every time it appears. But sometimes, when there is enough capacity, we can become curious:

What are you afraid would happen if you weren't so hard on me?

That question can take us somewhere very different from How do I get rid of my inner critic?

Sitting With Shame

Maybe healing shame isn't about reaching a point where we never hear another self-critical thought. Maybe it isn't about becoming completely comfortable being seen. And maybe it isn't about convincing every part of ourselves that we're amazing.

Perhaps it starts smaller.

We notice that we want to hide. We notice that we're replaying what we said. We notice the urge to explain ourselves. We notice that we suddenly feel like we're the problem.

And instead of immediately joining shame in attacking ourselves, we become interested.

Something in me is really afraid right now. Something in me learned that this mattered. Something in me is trying very hard to protect our connection.

We don't have to fight the inner critic, and we don't have to hand it the steering wheel. We can begin building a relationship with it — one where we can say:

I understand why you learned to protect me this way. And I'm curious whether we might eventually find another way.

Because perhaps underneath all that criticism isn't a part of you that hates you. Perhaps there's a part of you that is desperately trying to make sure you never experience a particular kind of pain again.

And perhaps healing isn't silencing that part.

Maybe it's allowing it to discover, slowly and relationally, that being seen doesn't always have to end in losing connection.

If You Want to Explore This More

Throughout November, I'll be exploring shame from a few different angles — how it lives in the body, why the inner critic can become so harsh, what happens when shame shows up in relationships, why compassion can sometimes feel threatening, and how we can begin sitting alongside shame without validating what it tells us about who we are.

You can continue these conversations with me through Sitting With Lauren on Instagram, TikTok, and Threads.

And if this way of understanding protective parts resonates with you, my Somatic Parts Work courses offer a deeper place to explore it.

For your own healing: Befriending What Feels Stuck: Somatic Parts Work for Self Exploration explores the parts of us that can seem to sabotage change, criticize us, shut us down, or pull us in opposite directions — and what happens when we begin understanding those patterns through the body, nervous system, and protection rather than trying to eliminate them.

Befriending What Feels Stuck

For clinicians: Moving From Insight to Integration: Somatic Parts Work for Clinicians explores how to work with protective parts somatically and relationally — noticing what's happening beneath a client's symptoms, working with the body's cues, pacing the work, and supporting experiences that go beyond intellectual insight.

Moving From Insight to Integration

And perhaps for now, you don't have to do anything with your inner critic.

The next time you hear You're such an idiot. Why did you do that? You shouldn't have said anything, you don't have to agree with it. And you don't necessarily have to argue with it either.

You might simply get curious:

What are you afraid would happen if you weren't so hard on me?

And listen for what comes next.