Your Shame Isn't Yours - It's What Happens When Values Clash With Culture
When your professional instincts get labelled as 'too much', and how to trust them anyway.
I recently shared how work had started to feel like an ambush. A reputational hit-job served cold.
Surprise complaints. Executive escalations.
Stealth accusations. Passive deflections.
Progress blocked.
A creeping sense that something was being orchestrated in the background, but you’re the only one who doesn’t have the memo.
This week, the meeting I’d been dreading finally happened.
<Puke>
And while it didn’t blow up the way I’d feared, it left a different kind of mark.
Not an explosion but more like a slow leak.
One I’ve been mopping up ever since.
Not conflict but cultural whiplash
If you’re a high performer, you rehearse difficult scenarios like it’s muscle memory.
If they say this, I’ll counter with that.
If that happens, I’ll escalate here.
I’d imagined the meeting happening in person with my notes laid out, my points delivered calmly but firmly.
Ha, it wasn’t quite like that!
The call was fully remote. I was alone in a privacy booth, notebook ready, having already aligned with my boss on what we’d cover.
And all that prep I’d done to make sure I didn’t break down in public?
I didn’t reference my notes once! Gaah.
But at least I didn’t lose my cool. Win.
It started out friendly enough.
British pleasantries with an undercurrent of caution.
Some context shared. Some agreed points in time exchanged.
And then… it turned.
We only focused on one project as the tone shifted.
My points were brushed off. Concerns minimised.
No direct disagreement, just that passive, dismissive energy that says, “You’re making this a problem, and it doesn’t need to be one.”
Then came the curveball: the head of their group casually explained that their risk tolerance was higher than ours. Our approach? “Overcomplicated.”
No thoughtful rationale. No curiosity.
Just…dismissal. A shrug in Teams-call form.
Structure and controls were unnecessary. Best practice was overkill.
For context: my team and I have decades of experience across banking, insurance, and regulatory-heavy sectors.
Normally, my counterparts would be the most conservative group in the room.
Not here.
What a bait and switch?!
Why this kind of mismatch lingers
As the meeting went on, I got quieter.
My points filed away and boxed up.
My boss clocked it too, but she knew there was no point pushing.
We eventually reached a compromise (if you can call it that):
They’ll run their process, which we’re expected to support, even though we know it’s flawed.
Meanwhile, we’ll evaluate our enhanced version quietly in the background, aiming to convince them and sign off with tangible evidence soon. Again.
All this caution comes after they’d already rolled back our changes this year, after 6 months of discussion and testing.
Not because they weren’t valid, but because they didn’t fully understand them.
And somehow… that’s all on us.
So, technically, we have a way forward.
Emotionally? I walked out of that meeting feeling hollow and defeated.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Just disconnected.
This wasn’t just frustration, it was cognitive dissonance
What I felt wasn’t just frustration.
It was cognitive dissonance: that mental and physical tension you get when your experience and values clash with how you’re expected to act, or how others respond.
I know what good process looks like.
I’ve delivered across complex environments, managed risk, built trust under pressure.
My judgement isn’t abstract, but earned through years of doing the hard work.
But suddenly, those instincts were being reframed as a problem.
Overthinking. Overcomplicating.
Too much.
Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance (1957) explains how this shows up when we get, or generate, conflicting signals like:
“This really matters” vs “Why are you making a fuss?”
“You did the right thing” vs “Why did you do it like this?”
That disconnect doesn’t just sit in your head.
It lands in your body through fatigue, fog, freeze.
And if you’re someone who internalises pressure or avoids conflict, it hits harder.
You start second-guessing yourself.
Questioning what you know.
Trying to reconcile two things that just don’t line up.
Sometimes dissonance is driven by forced compliance and being told to go along with something that doesn’t sit right (like I’m having to).
But other times, it’s all internal.
It’s the gap between your standards and what the culture rewards.
The tension between your instinct to speak up and your survival reflex to stay quiet.
The pull to belong…even if it costs you self-confidence.
That’s the real impact.
It’s not just one meeting.
It’s the long tail of questioning yourself for feeling what was, in fact, completely reasonable.
The stress of adapting downward: allostatic load in real time
This kind of mismatch is also exhausting.
High performers like us are conscientious. We take pride in standards.
We aim for impact and achievement, and that we left something better than we found it.
We’ve trained ourselves to see around corners, spot risks early, and deliver with integrity.
But in environments where that’s not valued, where precision is treated like paranoia?
It’s disorienting.
This is where McEwen and Stellar’s concept of allostatic load is relevant.
Chronic, low-grade stress, e.g., from emotional suppression or misalignment with values, builds up and creates wear and tear in the brain and body.
Over time, you become less adaptive to stress.
It dulls your clarity. Messes with focus. Slows recovery.
You don’t need a shouting match to end up dysregulated.
You just need enough subtle “this isn’t a problem, stop making it one” messages until your system starts believing it must be you.
And if, like me, your stress response starts with freeze (versus fight, flight, fawn, or flop)? It’s even harder.
I go quiet. I observe. I analyse.
Then later, the “ugh, I should have said X” thoughts flood in.
It’s what happened to me in the call.
Clarity came afterwards through reflection and talking.
It’s not a failure but your brain trying to keep you safe while processing threat through real-time hypervigilance.
Ambiguity intolerance: the Emperor is very much naked
Our brains crave certainty because it helps conserve energy.
Ambiguity, on the other hand, costs more, especially for high performers in chaotic environments.
It’s like watching The Emperor’s New Clothes unfold in a meeting room.
You know what you’re seeing is nonsense.
But everyone else is admiring the velvet trim and gold brocade.
You speak up, gently.
They smile. Nod. Move on.
But your system registers the risk: You’re not aligned with the group. You’re now outside the norms.
This kind of emotional gaslighting, where what’s said doesn’t match what’s sensed, chips away at resilience far more than workload often does.
It’s why these types of environments drive burnout too.
And then came the shame, but it wasn't mine
After the meeting, I debriefed with trusted colleagues and friends.
It was great to share but instead of relief, I felt something murkier: shame.
Not dramatic, gut-punch shame.
The quiet kind that creeps in sideways:
“Maybe I made too much of this.”
“Maybe I am too sensitive and emotional.”
“Maybe they’re right.”
But here’s the thing I’ve learned after years of coaching, art-based work, and therapy:
That shame? It wasn’t mine.
It came from being subtly told that what I do best is inconvenient.
That structure, complexity, conscientiousness… are too much for them.
It came from having my instincts minimised without ever being called wrong.
It came from carrying their discomfort as if it were my failing.
That’s what corporate gaslighting does.
It makes you internalise the problem they don’t want to look at.
But I’ve sat with it. Processed it. And decided:
I’m not crazy.
I’m not overreacting.
And I’m not the only one feeling this.
What helps when your values clash with the culture
You can’t always shift the system.
But you can steady yourself inside it. In fact, you have to.
Here’s what I’ve been doing, planning, and what the research backs up:
Put it in writing:
Not to catch anyone out, but to create clarity.
State your rationale, highlight the risks, and document your position.
It protects your team, your integrity, and shows you’re not operating in a vacuum.
Be honest with your team, but not heavy:
They already feel it. Being transparent validates their experience, but framing it constructively keeps you out of cynicism mode.
Give them agency to find solutions together.
Hold your professional line:
No need to fight or withdraw. Just don’t fold.
Quiet integrity beats performative compliance, every time.
Find allies:
Even if leadership doesn’t get it, others will.
Connect with people who share your standards.
It buffers the impact of cultural mismatch and builds resilience.
Listen to your system:
That brain fog after the meeting? That emotional flatness? It’s not “moodiness” but your body responding to subtle threat.
Rest, recover, and don’t push.
Key takeaways
I didn’t leave that meeting angry, but I left questioning everything.
That’s what happens when your insight is side-lined with a fake smile: it messes with your reality.
But this wasn’t just one frustrating meeting.
It’s what happens when experience threatens comfort and gets framed as a flaw.
That fog after? That flatness?
That was my nervous system responding to what wasn’t said.
What caught me off guard after the event was the shame.
Creeping in as self-doubt, subtly reinforced by social signals that say you’re not quite “one of us.”
But here’s the truth: that shame isn’t mine.
And if you’ve felt it too, it’s not yours either.
You’re not “too much” for caring deeply or noticing what others ignore.
Clarity and knowledge is not arrogance. It’s a skill.
When the room doesn’t reflect your values back to you, you don’t disappear.
You observe.
You hold them.
You name what’s happening.
And you lead anyway.
That’s not overreacting.
It’s resilience with your eyes open.
P.S. Share this with someone who might be facing their own work ambush. Comment about your experiences and how you managed it.