The Shame Spiral
Why limerence is a lonely experience and what hiding it costs you.
To prevent the clerk from noticing how much they drink, some alcoholics buy their booze from a variety of retailers. A little here and a little there. They try to manage it by keeping their sickness invisible. For the alcoholic who does this, the problem stays contained as long as no single person has the full picture.
I did the same thing with limerence and my LOs.
I would have one coworker who knew one thing about him and another friend who knew something different. There was also a random friend I might call to catch up with and after a bit of pleasantries, I may say, “yeah, I’m kind of seeing this guy but then this happened…” then I would try to squeeze out an objective opinion from this poor person I hadn’t spoken to in ages. My closest friends knew little more. I led them to believe he was someone I, perhaps but not so sure, might be interested in. I never told a single person about the obsession and rumination. I parceled it out. I bought my booze (opinions, comments, suggestions) from my friends, a little here, a little there.
Even more depressing is that what little I shared with them was not even true.
When people asked about him, I would say, yeah, I’m sort of seeing someone. “I’m not sure I’m really into it.” “He drinks a lot.” “I just don’t have time for anyone right now.” “I’m still on the fence.”
That the words, “Still on the fence,” came out of my mouth is a joke. As if I were the undecided one. As if the situation were mine to resolve whenever I got around to it.
The truth was the complete opposite. He would not take me anywhere. He kept me in one part of his life and closed all the other doors away from any other part of his life. A friend once asked me to bring him to a party. She said she would love to meet him. I said, “Yeah, I don’t know, I don’t want to go there with him yet, maybe next time, I’ll see how things with us go.”
I acted as though it were my decision, my timeline, as if I were the one calling all the shots.
What I could not say to her was that he would not have come. He had no interest in meeting my friends. He never introduced me to his family or friends, despite my requests to do so. I had been quietly and carefully constructing a cover story that protected me from having to say the authentic version of the story out loud. This cover story hid my obsession over a man who was not taking me anywhere, not introducing me to anyone, and not losing a single night of sleep over any of it.
The story was a protection for my deep shame. Telling others I was on the fence, or putting him down because of his drinking, gave me the power. If I admitted what was happening, friends could call me out for what I was doing. I was giving months of my life to someone who treated me as if I wasn’t worthy. I was not ready to be that woman. I wanted to be in control of the narrative, no matter what that cost me.
So I kept “buying from different stores.” A little to this friend. A little to that one. I gave no one enough to see the full picture. Never gave enough for anyone to look at it and call me out on it. I felt the full weight of the shame alone so that people I considered my closest friends would not see me at my weakest.
What the Hiding Is Doing
Shame is a core feature of limerence, not a side effect. It’s not shame about the LO or what the situation looks like from the outside; it is shame about your response. The fact that as capable woman, one who has navigated hard things, you cannot seem to navigate this one. It is the difference of who you are in every other part of your life, and who you become around him.
That is where the shame lives and hides. The shame keeps the whole thing invisible. Hiding the shame keeps the cycle running longer than it otherwise would. One very effective interruption to a limerent episode is an outside perspective, someone who can see the situation clearly. When you parcel out the truth, when you manage what each person knows, you eliminate the possibility of that perspective. One person never has enough information or the full picture to provide a needed perspective, you have made sure of that.
This hiding and lying compounds the shame rather than reducing it, because secrets get heavier as time passes. The longer you carry limerence alone, the more evidence it becomes that it must be shameful. If it didn’t have the emotional charge, you could talk about it. The fact you cannot, or do not want to, becomes proof in your mind that it is worse than you thought.
Hiding distorts your own understanding of what is happening. When you tell people you are on the fence, or not sure you are into him, or position yourself as the one with the power, you are not just managing their perception. You are managing your own. The cover story is for you too. Every time you tell it, the authentic version becomes a little harder to access, a little more buried under the version you have been rehearsing.
Shame doesn’t mean your experience is shameful. It means you lack the right perspective. Shame fills the void where understanding is missing. I felt shame before I knew the word “limerence.” Once I had the word, I had something to work with.
I understand why I hid. I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t care about me. I didn’t want to be judged so I protected myself. It was the only way I knew how. I bought my alcohol, so to speak, from different stores.
But the hiding has a cost which is that I ended up alone inside something that is already isolating enough on its own. No one is allowed to see enough to help. No one is allowed to get close enough to say, “I see what is happening here, and I am here for you.”
I don’t feel I would have needed to share my truth with everyone, or even with those I haven’t fully trusted. I believe finding just one person who could truly understand my perspective, hold it without judgment, and offer a thoughtful reflection would have been incredibly beneficial.
The Shame Spiral — How It Shows Up and What It Is Telling You
Shame related to limerence often manifests in specific ways. Recognizing these signs can be helpful, as they often serve as protective strategies that made sense at one point, but now cause more harm than good.
1. You tell different people different pieces, never the whole thing to anyone. . You’re curating the narrative, keeping the full picture contained so no single person can grasp enough of it to reflect it back to you. This feels like privacy, but it operates as isolation.
2. You position yourself as the one who is undecided. “I’m on the fence. I’m not sure I’m into it. I don’t know if I want to go there with him.” This cover story shifts the power dynamic in the retelling because the truth, that he’s the unavailable one, the one not taking you anywhere,
is too shameful and revealing to admit.
3. You make excuses for why he is not more present in your visible life. “I don’t want to move too fast.” “Things are tricky at the moment.” “I’m keeping it casual.” These phrases shield you from admitting the reality: you lack the access to his world that would allow him to be more present in yours.
4. You minimize what you are feeling to the people you tell. You say you are fine when you are not fine. You change the subject when it gets close to the real version. You laugh it off. You say it is nothing. You have become very good at performing “fine.”
5. You feel more ashamed of your response than of anything he has done. He’s unavailable and not showing up. He’s made it clear, through his words or deeds, where you stand. Yet, the shame you feel stems from your inability to let him go. Consider this: if it were a man you weren’t fixated on, and he told you he was unavailable, you wouldn’t dwell on it. This isn’t about him; it’s about how you’re responding.
6. You have never said the full accurate version out loud to a single person. Not a single person. Because saying it all out loud, to one person, would mean hearing it yourself. And you’re not sure you’re ready for that just yet.
When you’re ready, it won’t sound as bad as you fear. I promise. Many other women are going through this same experience alone. Reaching out to someone you trust is the first step.
Take good care,
Love, Leslie
Nothing in this newsletter constitutes mental health treatment. Please work with a qualified professional for clinical support. Trust yourself first.