Understanding how shame takes root and grows: A metaphor for therapists and clients

Shame is one of those experiences that can be difficult to grasp—both for therapists and clients. It often hides beneath the surface; what we see are the various ways people have learned to protect themselves from its painful grip. I've been sitting with a metaphor lately that might offer a helpful way to understand shame's origins and its many manifestations. I'd love to share it with you and hear how it lands.

The seed: Shame's origins

Let's start by imagining shame as a seed planted from the outside—through experiences of being shamed, whether directly or indirectly. Perhaps it was:

• A parent's look of disappointment
  
• A teacher's public correction
• A peer's rejection
  
• A cultural message about who we “should” be
• A moment of vulnerability met with judgment
  

This seed doesn't originate within the person; it comes from relational experiences and social contexts.

The plants: Shame's protective reactions

Because shame is so powerful—so threatening to our sense of self and belonging—the psyche develops protective responses. These are the “plants” that grow from that buried seed, each taking a different form: 
 

• The thorny rose bush (self-criticism): A dense bush where the thorns point inward, constantly pricking the person trapped within it. The person becomes their own harshest critic, attacking themselves before others can. “If I criticize myself first, maybe it will hurt less when others do.” 

 

• The thick hedge wall (withdrawal): A towering, impenetrable barrier of foliage that keeps others at a distance. The person retreats from connection, from vulnerability, from being seen. “If no one can see me, I can't be shamed again.”

 

• The chameleon vine (people-pleasing): A climbing plant that wraps around whatever is nearby, changing color and shape to blend in perfectly. The person contorts themselves to meet others' needs and expectations. “If I can be what everyone needs, maybe I'll be acceptable.”

 

• The carnivorous plant (attacking others): A plant that snaps at anything that comes near, projecting shame outward before it can land inward. The person criticizes, blames, or attacks others. “If I can make you feel small, I won't have to feel my own smallness.”

 

• The smoke bush (dissociation): A shrub that produces wispy, cloud-like plumes that obscure its structure and create a hazy, dreamlike appearance. The person disconnects from their experience, creating distance and blur. “If I can't feel it, it isn't happening.”
  

 

What we see in the therapy room

Here's what's crucial for our work: we typically encounter the plants, not the seed. A client comes in struggling with:

• Harsh self-judgment that seems “irrational”.
• Difficulty maintaining relationships due to withdrawal.
• Exhaustion from constantly accommodating others.
• Conflict in relationships from defensive reactions.
• A sense of being “not fully present” in their own life.

 
We can do meaningful work with these plants: helping clients understand their protective functions, developing compassion for these adaptations, perhaps even pruning them back or learning to work with them differently.

Getting to the root: The incomplete part of the metaphor

But here's where our metaphor becomes interesting in its incompleteness: how do we work with the seed itself? In gardening, you might dig up a plant to remove its roots. But in therapy, we're not trying to excavate and remove. Instead, perhaps we might consider: 
 

• Composting: What if therapy helps transform that shame-seed? Not removing it, but allowing it to break down in the rich soil of a therapeutic relationship, becoming something that can nourish rather than harm? 
  

 

• Companion planting: What if we help clients plant new seeds nearby—seeds of self-compassion, belonging, worthiness—that can grow alongside and eventually overshadow the shame-based plants? 
  

 

• Tending the garden: What if healing isn't about removing the seed but about changing the conditions of the garden? Creating a relational environment where shame-based plants can't thrive, while other ways of being can flourish?
  

 

• Witnessing the seed's story: What if part of our work is simply helping clients excavate and examine that seed—not to remove it, but to understand its origins, to externalize it (“This was planted in you; it isn't you”), and to grieve what was lost when it took root?
  

Final words and questions

Our work with shame is complex and deeply individual. I'd like to invite you to take what's useful from this metaphor and leave the rest.

How does shame show up in your life or in your therapy room, and what helps you work with it? Here are some questions that I hope you can use for self-reflection. You're invited to share your thoughts in the comment section.

Reflection questions for clinicians

As you work with clients whose presentations might be understood through this metaphor:

• What “plants” do you most commonly encounter in your practice?
• How might naming these as protective responses to shame (rather than pathology) shift your stance and the therapeutic conversation?
• What does it mean to work with the seed of shame in a way that honors externalization and re-authoring?
• How do you create the relational conditions where shame loses its power?
• When you notice a shame-based plant in session, how might you invite curiosity about the seed it grew from?

Reflection questions for clients

If this metaphor resonates with you, you might consider:

• What “plant” feels most familiar to you? Do you recognize yourself in the thorny rose bush, the hedge wall, the chameleon vine, or another form?
• When did you first notice this plant growing? What was happening in your life?
• How has this plant protected you? What has it helped you avoid or survive?
• What would it mean to tend to the seed beneath—to acknowledge where shame was planted in you from the outside?
• What might you want to plant in your garden instead? What qualities or ways of being would you like to cultivate?