The shame of doing well

Am I crazy?

I lead with this question often when I am contemplating a new idea. My husband replies with “Yes, but not about this.”

It’s sweet and grounding.

He knows I have that founder, entrepreneurial attitude. I chase squirrels.

But he believes in what I’m doing, mostly.  

I know that many people do not have that person in their life. A recent coaching client of mine told me she didn’t feel like she had anyone to pop the good champagne with when things went well.

I completely understand.

I grew up without money. What we lacked in money we made up for in anxiety. Anxiety in spades.

Logically, my primary goal after college was to earn as much money as possible in the safest way possible. I became a CPA. Box checked.  My parents seemed proud. I made it.

I was proud of me too. But over the years, pride shifted to shame. When I landed jobs that seemed too good to be true, bought nice things, travelled to faraway places, I hid most of it from my parents and brother.

I felt like I was “too much.”It was heavy and frustrating to feel shame about success.

It ultimately led me to separate myself from my family of origin. They had not done anything wrong. It just felt like my wins would bury them. I didn’t think they could hold joy for me in the face of their own struggle. The separation was emotional and physical. I moved from Tennessee to Minnesota and reveled in the peace of being able to live my life in private.

Much later, after my father died,  I saw the mistake clearly.

Ironically, he left me a small fortune (in normal people standards.) After decades of financial instability, bankruptcy, home loss and health challenges he found something he loved doing and he was great at it.

Working from home on a $400 laptop I bought him 10 years ago, he carved out a successful living and built a nest egg. My grandmother told me that he wanted nothing more than to surprise me with the money when he died. He wanted me to be proud of him.

That’s when I realized my error.

He wanted me to be proud of him. But I did not give him the same opportunity to be proud of me. I underestimated his capacity for love.

This should have seemed obvious to me all along. I am prideful of my kids. I long for their success. There is no limit to the happiness I can hold for them. My reservoir is deep.

I regret not sharing more of my life with my parents.

My client told me she was hesitant to share a big win with her husband because he wouldn’t be happy for her.

But I think the goal is not to guarantee happiness in our ‘could be” supporters. Rather, it’s to be a allow them to borrow a little bit of our magic when they may not have enough of their own.

And in the end we will have lived life alongside the people we love, without shame or fear.

~E