The Only Thing Shame Prevents…Is Change

Growing Up With the Game On

I grew up in a house where the rhythm of fall weekends was set by college and pro football. Saturdays were about the SEC game of the week—loud, rowdy, with the smell of chili on the stove and the hum of a hopeful crowd through the TV speakers. Sundays? Those belonged to the Dallas Cowboys. It wasn’t just background noise; it was part of our family language. Wins were celebrated with cheers and snacks. Losses were mourned (loudly). But nothing—and I mean nothing—frustrated us more than when our team had the lead late in the game and switched to that infamous “prevent defense.”

If you’ve ever watched football, you might know exactly what I’m talking about. The prevent defense is a strategy teams use when they’re ahead, designed to avoid giving up the big play. The irony is that it usually does the opposite. All it seems to prevent is momentum—and sometimes, even the win itself. I remember hearing one exasperated commentator say, “The only thing the prevent defense actually prevents is… winning.”

Years later, those words came back to me in a completely different context—when I found myself reflecting on the role of shame in my life. Because, as it turns out, shame is a lot like prevent defense. It promises to protect you. It tells you it’s keeping you safe. But really, it’s holding you back. It’s costing you the game.

When Shame is a Lifestyle

For many of us walking the path of recovery—whether from addiction, betrayal, trauma, or relational breakdown—shame isn’t some abstract idea. It’s a lived experience. It’s familiar, almost instinctual. And while it might masquerade as a kind of moral compass, it doesn’t guide us—it traps us.

Shame is usually defined as an unpleasant self-conscious emotion associated with a negative evaluation of the self and a fear of being exposed. That’s the textbook version. But for me, shame looked like this:

• Feeling disgusting after slipping up again and swearing I’d never tell anyone.

• Sitting in church next to my wife, heart pounding, wondering if I’d ever be the man she needed.

• Standing in the mirror and silently mouthing, “What is wrong with me?”

But here’s something I’ve come to believe with all my heart:
Shame is not just a feeling. Shame is a behavior.

It’s something I do. Just like lust, anger, defensiveness, or control—shame is an action I engage in when I feel small, defective, or unworthy of love. And the more I engage with it, the more it tightens its grip.

That’s why I say:
The only thing shame actually prevents… is real change.

Let me tell you why.

1. Shame Tells You You’re Incapable of Change

When I was deep in my addiction, I wasn’t just battling behaviors—I was battling identity. After years of trying and failing to quit, shame became my internal monologue.

“You’re sick. You’re a fraud. You’re a pervert.”

I don’t share those words lightly—they were the soundtrack of my inner world. They reinforced the belief that I wasn’t just someone who struggled. I was defective. Rotten at the core.

So every time I tried to change, I wasn’t fighting just for sobriety—I was fighting against the belief that I was unchangeable. And when I failed again, shame would smugly whisper, “See? Told you.”

2. Shame Keeps You Isolated and Hiding

Shame convinced me that I was too broken to be seen. So I kept my struggles private. I had friends, but they didn’t really know me. I was married, but I wasn’t fully honest. I was leading in ministry spaces, but terrified someone would see behind the curtain.

Every attempt at getting clean was done in secret. Every confession was delayed for fear of what I’d lose. And slowly, my shame created a relational cancer. It ate away at intimacy, trust, and safety. My wife felt the distance, even if she couldn’t always name it. We both paid the price.

3. Shame Blocks Emotional Connection and Empathy

It took me a long time to realize this one. When you’re caught in self-loathing, it becomes nearly impossible to connect with others—especially when they’re hurting. My shame didn’t just silence me; it made me defensive. I couldn’t truly sit with my wife’s pain. I couldn’t listen without justifying, minimizing, or turning the conversation back to my own self-hatred.

Why? Because shame builds walls. And while it might feel like you’re being hard on yourself, it ends up making you hard toward others too.

4. Shame Destroys Restoration

Eventually, shame distorts the very relationships it says it’s trying to protect. In marriage, it makes us dependent on our partner for our sense of worth. Every look, every word becomes a referendum on our value. That’s not intimacy—it’s desperation. And no relationship can carry the weight of that.

I remember one client telling me, “It’s like all the affirmations and encouragement pass right through me. Nothing sticks.” I knew exactly what he meant. Shame makes us leaky buckets. No amount of love seems to fill us because we haven’t dealt with the lies at the bottom.

So, What Now?

If you’ve ever felt stuck in the loop of shame—know that you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I still visit from time to time. But I also know now that healing is possible. Not through shame, but through compassion, truth, and courage.

In my next blog, I’ll explore some practical ways we can begin to push back against shame—how we rewrite the story it’s been telling us and how we start walking in freedom.

Until then, just remember:

Shame doesn’t keep you safe. It keeps you stuck. And you were made for more than that.

If any part of this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your story. Shoot me a message, leave a comment, or share this with someone else who might need it. We’re in this together. You can also inquire about working with our great team of coaches HERE!