I used to feel shame over the smallest things.
When I ate a snack after school, my belly cried "shame! This is why the other kids call us fat!"
Or when I "accidentally" pulled the fire alarm in fifth grade. Many shunned me, but later admitted I had done something silly and impulsive that they wished they had the nerve to try.
I felt shamed, but this time not from my actions, but because nobody remembered me for anything else. "Don't you know me? I'm special and shameless too!"
Over the years, I learned how to live without shame, or the bitter flashbacks of regret. I couldn't change my past, but I could learn more from my mistakes than my minor accomplishments.
And now, when I look at shameful things--dropping a glass at work, stumbling over sentences, or occasionally drinking too much with friends--I laugh and move on,
because life doesn't have to be so serious. So whenever I am at work, or busy writing, I tell myself "shame on you! You should be having fun with everything you love!"
Because without fun (or pulling a couple fire alarms) how are we supposed to be free of shame?