During my first job at a car wash, I wrecked a man’s brand-new Town Car.

I was 16. I left the driver’s door open while reversing and smashed it into a brick wall. A stupid mistake. And for years, I carried the shame.

How could I have been so dumb?

Time moved on. Decades have passed. That vehicle is long gone and probably rusting in a junkyard by now. But I still think about it with frustration.

Today, I watched an episode of Severance. A character is asked, “What is something for which you feel shame?”

His answer: “My dog died when I was a kid. It was my fault.”

“Why?”

“I left the gate open.”

No other details.

Shame is a prison. Be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself. Speak to yourself the way you would to someone you love. The past is unmovable, but your relationship with it is not.

Overcoming shame means choosing, at last, to close the door. Or to finally shut that gate.