Interrupted Joy and the Shame Sandwich

When connection gets hijacked and shame takes the wheel — what do we do next?

We were in a groove.

Tommy and I, elbows deep in soapy water, music on full blast. He’d picked Old Dominion — his new favorite — and we were harmonizing poorly but proudly while scrubbing spaghetti sauce off plates like it was our last chore on earth.

It felt good.
Light.
Connected.

And then it happened.

The interruption.

Bobby stormed into the kitchen, fuming.
“Joey’s cheating at rock-paper-scissors again — he waits half a second and always wins!”

The mood shifted.
My shoulders tightened.

And before I could even register it, I snapped.

I barked something sharp and unnecessary.
A one-liner that hit harder than it needed to.

And as the words left my mouth, the guilt rushed in.

I wasn’t mad at Bobby. Not really.

I was mad that the moment got hijacked.
That something good got interrupted.
That I went from calm to chaos in half a breath.

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Here’s what I’ve been learning (and re-learning):

For years, I’ve used the Compass of Shame with students, teachers, and leaders to help them recognize what happens when shame gets triggered.

And over the last three years, I’ve dug even deeper — studying how leaders (and dads like me) can build shame resilience.

You can’t always prevent shame.
But you can learn to spot it faster…
And step out of it sooner.

Because when positive emotion gets interrupted — when joy or connection gets cut off — our nervous system doesn’t just move on.

It scrambles to cope.

And often, it defaults to one of the four reactive corners on the Compass of Shame:

• Withdraw – shut down and retreat

• Avoid – distract or minimize

• Attack Others – lash out or blame

• Attack Self – internalize and spiral

That night?

I attacked Bobby with my tone.
Then I attacked myself with guilt.

It was a shame sandwich — with me as both the chef and the main course.

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But here’s the grace in it:

When you can name what’s happening,
you can change what happens next.

Not perfectly.
But with more awareness.
More humility.
More presence.

So I took a breath.
Apologized to Bobby.
Let him see the repair.

Then turned back to Tommy, whose eyes said,
“It’s okay, Dad. I’m still here.”

Because even when joy gets interrupted…

Connection can still be restored.