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The Opposite of Shame | The On Being Project

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It was one of those perfect spring Sundays. I had just come from hanging with two girlfriends. John sent a great video of Maya, snaking down a slide and laughing in the park. The windows were rolled down and the wind was blowing in my hair. And then the goddess threw a cherry on top: Kelly Clarkson “Since You’ve Been Gone,” one of my favorite songs to go crazy to on the dance floor in my 20s, came on the radio. I was belting it out and feeling more than fine when… CRASH. That’s right, I managed to run smack into my neighbor’s parked car while trying to take the sharp right required to fit into our tricky space in the driveway. My mind hurried to catch up to the terrible sound of metal crunching. It couldn’t be, could it? Did I really just do that? Kelly went on singing incongruously. My perfect spring Sunday was violently over, like the moment your mom hits the off switch on the television with feeling after she’s told you to go up to bed multiple times and you’ve lingered. I slunk aro

It was one of those perfect spring Sundays. I had just come from hanging with two girlfriends. John sent a great video of Maya, snaking down a slide and laughing in the park. The windows were rolled down and the wind was blowing in my hair. And then the goddess threw a cherry on top: Kelly Clarkson “Since You’ve Been Gone,” one of my favorite songs to go crazy to on the dance floor in my 20s, came on the radio. I was belting it out and feeling more than fine when… CRASH. That’s right, I managed to run smack into my neighbor’s parked car while trying to take the sharp right required to fit into

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