"Shame Shields Solutions."

This week on WORDS MATTER, Deanna Ley, The Catalytic Coach, shares a raw, real-time moment that began in a massage room and led to the unexpected uncovering of anger, grief, and a deep disconnection from her body.

At the center of it all is a quote from Tiffany Aliche: “Shame shields solutions.”

What follows is a deeply personal reflection on body betrayal, the lies shame whispers, and the truth-telling that begins to set us free. This episode isn’t about fixing or figuring it all out — it’s about choosing to stay present in the ache, name what hurts, and remember what’s still true.

What Listeners Will Learn:
• Why shame often disguises itself as accountability — and how to recognize the difference
• How pain and disconnection can distort your progress and make you forget how far you’ve come
• The impact of unspoken grief on your thoughts, choices, and trust in your body
• How to stay with yourself when healing gets hard and messy
• Why honesty isn’t weakness — it’s the beginning of real healing
• A reminder that this part counts, too — even when it’s still unfolding

Memorable Quotes:
• “Shame shields solutions.” – Tiffany Aliche
• “Every time you tell the truth about what hurts, you reclaim a part of yourself that shame has tried to erase.”
• “Shame sounded like truth. But I now see it as regret, weaponized against my own healing.”
• “Grieving what you lost doesn’t cancel out what you’ve gained.”
• “You haven’t lost your healing. You haven’t erased your progress. You are still on your way.”
• “You're not broken even if you feel like it. You're not failing even if you feel like it. You're unfolding.”
• “The only way to it — to the solutions we seek — is through the thick of it.”

This episode is for anyone who feels like they’ve lost their footing, their progress, or their peace. It’s not a bow-tied lesson — it’s an invitation to stay, feel, and keep going. Because this part matters just as much as the rest.

Your WORDS MATTER, because YOU MATTER.

❤️❤️❤️

Transcript

Hey there, friends. Welcome back to another episode of WORDS MATTER. Today’s going to be a little bit different. It’s not a reflection on something I’ve already processed or a lesson tied up with a tidy bow. This is real-time truth. A revelation that’s actually still unfolding. One that took shape and was given a voice just yesterday in a way I didn’t expect, but probably needed more than I realized.

I had a massage scheduled with my friend, the amazing rest expert, Keri Lemmons. Now, if you’ve ever had bodywork done by someone who truly sees you — not just your muscles and your fascia — but your energy, your heart, then you’ll understand what I mean when I say she’s more than a massage therapist. Keri holds space with so much care and intention. Her work is intuitive. She asks questions that go deeper than “How’s your body feeling today?” She listens with her whole self, and somehow — during every session — she always brings things to the surface I didn’t even know I needed to say.

So when I arrived, she asked, “How are you doing?” And my answer came out fast — actually sharper than I expected. “I’m so mad at my body!”

Even though I’ve been thinking it for quite a while, it was really the first time I had said it out loud. The first time I really let myself feel it. Tears started to fall. The anger. The sadness underneath. The frustration of living in a body that doesn’t match the healthy Me that I have fought so hard for.

Toward the end of our session, Keri, in her gentle way, said that she was sensing fear coming from me. That was the energy she was picking up on. And in that moment, I thought she might be right. Fear of what’s next. Fear of losing more ground. Fear of going backward after everything I had worked so hard for. But when I left the appointment and let that thought settle, something deeper actually emerged.

It’s not fear. It’s grief. I am grieving.

Grieving the sense of ease I had finally found. Grieving the strength and the trust I had built between myself and this body of mine. Grieving the story I had told myself for years — that once I got healthy, once I got in shape, everything would feel better. Everything would be better.

And for quite a while it was. For a long time I was living and breathing Whole-Self Health — mind, body, and soul. My habits were rooted. My spirit was strong. My body felt like a partner, not a problem. And I loved that Me. And how life was. Keyword… was.

Yesterday got me thinking deep — back to when things started to shift. When the disconnect first happened. It was my first frozen shoulder. Then heart palpitations. Then fatigue that no amount of rest could fix. Then the massive effects of perimenopause. But the catalyst? It happened three months ago when a back injury led to a diagnosis of spinal stenosis.

That moment broke something wide open in me — because I had done the work. I had earned the health I was living, and suddenly it felt like all of it was taken away. And that betrayal? It cut deep. Not just because of the constant physical pain that made every movement hurt, but because of what it represented.

See, I had poured love, discipline, devotion into healing my body. And now my body felt like it was turning against me. I didn’t just lose comfort or convenience. I lost trust. I lost the belief that I was safe inside my own skin.

And that’s where shame crept in.

First, I didn’t notice it. It was subtle. Disguised as reflection — as accountability. But it didn’t take long before it twisted itself into something else entirely. I started blaming myself, not just for the injury, but for everything that came before it. Every year I ignored signals. Every time I numbed instead of listened. Every binge. Every excuse. Every moment I pushed my body past what it could handle. And I told myself this was payback. That the years of neglect had finally caught up with me. That this pain was the price.

See, shame didn’t storm in. It crept back into my mind quietly, wearing the mask of ownership. It sounded like truth, but I now see it as regret, weaponized against my own healing. It whispered that I should have done better. Seen it coming. Known more. Tried harder. That maybe I never deserved to feel good in the first place.

And that’s when I remembered the quote I first heard back in March 2024. Tiffany Aliche, better known as the Budgetnista, was on a podcast with Mel Robbins when she said it: “Shame shields solutions.”

Those words landed hard back then, but they’ve taken on a whole new meaning as of yesterday. Because I’m living them.

Shame doesn’t just sting — it silences. It keeps you from reaching out. It tells you to be thankful it’s not worse. It gaslights your grief by comparing it to someone else’s. It convinces you that your pain isn’t valid because it’s not visible. And worst of all? It blocks you from finding your way through the dark — because you can’t solve what you’re too ashamed to say out loud.

My amazing pastor, Cory Ball, once said in a sermon that shame can also be a messenger — a wake-up call that something’s off. And I believe that. I believe we’re not meant to live in shame, but we are meant to pay attention when it shows up. Because sometimes it’s pointing to an old wound that still needs care.

I didn’t see it at first. I’d let the anger take center stage. And in doing so, I missed the message that shame was trying to deliver. That disconnection from my body only widened.

So right now the wound I’m tending is this: I’m grieving the loss of what I thought this part of my life would look like. I now see clearly that for the last three months, a subconscious darkness clouded every part of me. It’s touched everything. My thoughts. My choices. My joy.

But yesterday, in the safety of Keri’s office, I named it. Through tears and frustration, I spoke it out loud. I shined a light on it. And where even the smallest speck of light exists, darkness is diminished.

I had imagined energy, ease, peace in my body — and instead I’m navigating pain, fatigue, and uncertainty. I’m unearthing thought patterns that I thought I’d buried. I’m watching old stories try to sneak back in and take up space.

But here’s what I know. The work I’ve done hasn’t disappeared. It’s what’s keeping me from falling all the way back into the abyss, actually. It’s what’s helping me stay present, even when everything inside me wants to escape and detach. It’s what’s allowing me to say without shame that I am angry. So angry. And I’m heartbroken. So sad. And I’m still healing.

Maybe that’s the point of this episode. Not to land in a place of resolution — but to make space for the messy middle and to remind you — and me — that this part counts, too.

That grieving what you lost doesn’t cancel out what you’ve gained. That feeling betrayed by your own body doesn’t mean that you’re failing. It means that you’re human.

And being human is heavy sometimes. It stretches you. It breaks your heart. It asks more of you than you ever thought you’d have to give. But it also invites you to meet yourself right where you are. To stand in the mess and say, “This matters, because I matter.”

I know that I know that I know this: Every time you tell the truth about what hurts, you reclaim a part of yourself that shame has tried to erase.

I don’t have the answers today. I don’t have a strategy or a fix or a colorful bow to tie this all up with. But I do have honesty. And I believe that this kind of honesty has the power to heal, because it makes space for what’s real. It quiets the shame. It interrupts the spiral.

It reminds us that what we’re walking through doesn’t erase the strength that took us to get here. Because we’re not defined by our hardest seasons, are we? We’re not disqualified by our pain. And we’re not defeated by what’s trying to defeat us.

So if you’re carrying disappointment... If you’re grieving a body that doesn’t feel like your own... If you’re angry at how long it took you to get here... Or heartbroken over how different it looks than what you imagined... I see you.

You’re not broken even if you feel like it. You’re not failing even if you feel like it. You’re unfolding.

And this is just another layer — a deeper one — and you’re allowed to feel every inch of it. You haven’t lost your healing. You haven’t erased your progress. You are still on your way.

And I’m going to be right here beside you. Telling the truth. Honoring the ache. And staying in it with you. Not because it’s easy — but because it’s real. And because the only way to it — to the solutions we seek — is through the thick of it. Through the heartbreak. Through the anger. Through the grief we didn’t expect to carry.

That’s where healing lives. Not on the other side of it — but inside the choosing to keep going anyway.

Friends, the words we see and read, the words we hear, and the words we say to ourselves and about ourselves — about what we’re doing and how we’re doing it — they all matter.

Your WORDS MATTER, because YOU MATTER.

Have a great day.