The Opposite of Shame Is Not Pride: It’s Peace
I used to believe that pride was the opposite of shame. That if I could simply feel proud enough of myself, if I could hold my head high, claim my achievements, acknowledge my worth, then shame would vanish. That somehow, pride could be a shield, a remedy, a secret key to joy and peace.
But I’ve discovered something uncomfortable, and maybe even unsettling. I can feel very, very proud of myself… and feel no joy. No warmth. No lightness. No peace. Just exhaustion.
A few weeks back I completed an intense and beautiful project. I single-handedly created, organised and ran a live online event.
I didn’t just press a button and run a Zoom. I built and delivered a fully orchestrated summit experience — a festival experience, actually — with 22 facilitators, several “rooms” running at the same time, a treasure quest, and more. That’s real event production work.
According to my information, a professional agency would charge $18K–$30K for a 3-day, 20+ speaker virtual summit, with full speaker hand-holding, tech setup, design, branding, all registration and email flows built and tested, marketing assets and communications run, and live technical support throughout.
I did that. On my own.
And yes, I felt proud. So proud. It felt like creating my very own Eiffel Tower, from scratch.
But guess what? Did I feel joy? Not so much. Peace? Nope. Just sheer fatigue and depletion. (I don’t think I have fully recovered yet, actually.)
Pride, it turns out, is not a sanctuary. It is not freedom. It is simply the other side of a coin that has never stopped spinning: perfectionism.
Shame tells me I am not enough. Pride tells me I am exceptionally enough. Both are conditional. Both rely on evaluation, on measurement, on a standard that is never entirely stable. Both tether me to a scale I did not invent, and yet I live my life on it anyway. Both ask me to constantly monitor the way I am, to weigh myself against an invisible bar. Neither gives me peace. Neither allows rest.
When I looked at David Hawkins’ Map of Consciousness, something clicked for me. Pride sits below courage on that scale. It is still considered a “low vibration” emotion — still tied to ego, comparison, and conditional self-worth. While pride can feel uplifting, it is inherently unstable. It demands that we meet standards, achieve recognition, or prove ourselves in some way. Courage, by contrast, rises above the need for approval. Courage allows us to face life fully, imperfectly, and honestly, without the constant measurement that pride requires. Seeing pride placed there helped me understand why it never truly brought me peace: it still lives in the energy of evaluation, not rest.
This distinction matters, because I am starting to see that pride is not inherently positive. We are taught to see it that way. We are told, implicitly or explicitly, that pride is the healthy antidote to shame: the reward, the medal, the mirror that tells us we have succeeded. And yet, even when pride arrives, even when I achieve, even when I surpass, there is still a tension that pride cannot dissolve.
Why? Because pride, like shame, is conditional. Pride may feel like self-affirmation, but it is still measured. It still requires validation. It is still tied to a standard — one I may not be able to sustain. It keeps the nervous system alert, vigilant, subtly asking: Will I continue to meet this bar? Will the recognition hold? Will this identity last?
This is why pride can feel hollow. It can feel like a triumph without relief, a spike without depth, a momentary exhalation before the next effort begins.
And here I am now, almost a month after the end of that event… still tired. Not exhilarated. Not particularly joyful. Not proud anymore. Just exhausted. Still. Feeling empty. And facing the new reality of: I should start again. Something new. Another mountain to climb. To prove that I can. To feel proud again.
And you know what? I won’t. Because something still needs to change.
Shame is easier to understand in this light. Shame contracts. It collapses the body, sinks the chest, narrows vision. It tells me: you are not enough. Pride expands, lifts, opens the chest, raises the head. It tells me: you are enough. But both arise from the same root — a belief that my worth is conditional on the way I am, the way I appear, the way I exist in the eyes of myself and others. Both are measures of the self. Both are mirrors that demand attention.
And perhaps this is the key insight I want to share: pride and shame are not opposites in the way we often think. They are two expressions of the same system — conditional identity. One says, you are failing. The other says, you are succeeding. But both ask for constant evaluation. Both depend on a standard. Both prevent true rest.
Even when I try to encourage imperfection, I recognise this tension. I want to be human. I want to embrace imperfection. I want to encourage my readers, my clients, myself, to breathe, to soften, to accept. And yet, when it is me, I still measure. I still weigh myself. I still feel the pull of expectation, the silent insistence that I should do better, be better, achieve more. I would have felt unsatisfied with myself had I not tried so hard, and that feeling — so close to shame — remains a compass in my nervous system. It is part of me, part of this work-in-progress human self.
That is why I repeat: something still needs to change. And I have a sense of where I am heading… toward peace.
And that journey to peace is radical. Because peace is not the absence of shame, and it is not the presence of pride. Peace is something else entirely. Peace does not ask for measurement. Peace does not ask for validation. Peace does not require justification. Peace does not depend on whether I am exceptionally right or catastrophically wrong. Peace simply allows being.
I am learning that the path beyond shame and pride is not a path of perfection, not a path of achievement, not even a path of “healthy self-esteem.” It is a path of quiet presence. A path of allowing myself to exist, with all my contradictions, my flaws, my effort, my exhaustion, my occasional triumphs, and my very human disappointments. Peace is not earned. It is not proven. It is not celebrated. It simply exists as the ground beneath the restless dance of pride and shame.
In this way, perhaps the most radical act is to stop measuring the way I am. To stop weighing myself against invisible scales of enoughness. To stop policing my worth based on what I do, what I achieve, what I appear to be. To let go of both the low bar of shame and the high bar of pride. To stop striving for self-approval and to simply be.
And yet… I also understand the nuance. Letting go of pride and shame does not mean abandoning standards entirely. It does not mean abandoning care, or effort, or desire. It does not mean accepting mediocrity or chaos. It means relocating the source of my worth — from the outcome of my efforts, from the judgment of myself or others, into the quiet space of acceptance, the steady ground of presence. It is a subtle, ongoing practice, a gentle reclamation of my nervous system from the tyranny of evaluation.
I know I am not alone in this. So many of us carry the twin burdens of shame and pride, swinging between contraction and expansion, exhaustion and fleeting triumph. We chase achievement thinking it will deliver peace. We avoid shame thinking pride will protect us. And all the while, the body, the heart, the soul quietly longs for something different: a place to rest, to soften, to simply exist without measurement.
Perhaps that is what I want to offer here, more than any moral or prescription: a glimpse of a different way. Not perfect. Not accomplished. Not extraordinary. Simply human. Simply present. Simply breathing in the quiet knowledge that my worth is not conditional on who I am, how I perform, or how I appear. That my being, as it is, is enough to rest in. Enough to forgive. Enough to hold gently. Enough to be met with peace, even when the nervous system still trembles with the old patterns of pride and shame.
This is not easy. I am not there yet. I stumble. I measure. I ache. I feel both pride and shame in the same breath. I try, again and again, to release the hold they have over me, to open to something more expansive, more peaceful, more enduring. And that, perhaps, is the point: that peace is not a destination but a practice — a daily choice, a soft letting-go of the scales that never truly measure what matters.
In the end, I am learning: the opposite of shame is not pride. The opposite of shame is peace. And peace does not demand that I be anything other than myself.
If this is the kind of shift you are longing for in your own life — the desire to move beyond measuring your worth, the longing for peace over perfection, the bravery it takes to be human — I’ve created something to support you there.
The Messy Formula is a compassionate way of approaching your life with curiosity instead of judgment. It invites you to embrace your imperfections without collapsing into shame or inflating into pride.
It’s not about fixing you. It’s about learning to live more fully with yourself.
If you’re ready for a kinder, deeper conversation with who you are becoming, you can explore it here:
The Messy Formula: https://isayabelle.thrivecart.com/the-messy-formula/
I believe that is all for today.
I would be so happy to hear from you.
If this spoke to your heart, I’d love for you to share it with a sister, a friend, a fellow Goddess on the path.
I send, as always, love, light and gratitude,
Isaya