In the early days of my recovery, shame was the only fuel I had in the tank.

It’s a powerful engine, I’ll give it that. Shame is what got me off the floor when I woke up with a mouth like ash and a memory full of holes. It’s what drove me to make the phone calls I didn’t want to make and show up to meetings with my head down. I used shame like a whip, lashing myself forward because I didn’t think I deserved a gentler kind of motivation.

I thought if I felt bad enough about who I was, I’d eventually become someone else.

But here’s the problem with using shame as a motivator: It’s like burning trash to keep your house warm. It creates a lot of heat for a minute, but the smoke is toxic, and eventually, it chokes everything living out of the room.

The “Walk of Shame” on the Fairway

We’ve all been there on the course. You’re playing with a group—maybe some guys from work or a few sticks you’re trying to impress. You step up to the tee, overthink the mechanics, and absolutely hosel-rocket one into the woods.

That walk to that ball feels like it will never end.

You feel the eyes on your back. You imagine what they’re saying. “Look at this guy. Why is he even out here?” By the time you reach your ball (or the one you have to drop), you aren’t thinking about the recovery shot. You aren’t thinking about your stance or your line. You’re thinking about how much of an idiot you are.

When you play golf from a place of shame, your muscles tighten. Your swing becomes tentative and jerky. You’re so busy trying not to look “bad” that you forget how to play “well.” Shame doesn’t make you a better golfer; it just makes you a more miserable one.

In my drinking days, I lived in that “walk of shame” every single hour. I was so focused on the wreckage behind me that I kept tripping over the grass right in front of me.

A Better Way to Score

At Skull & Bogeys, we talk a lot about the reality of the game. Our logo—that skull staring back at you—isn’t there to make you feel guilty about your mortality or your mistakes. It’s there to remind you that the mistakes are inevitable.

The bogey is part of the math. The skull is part of the biology.

Shame tries to tell you that a bad shot is a moral failing. It tells you that you are the mistake. But the brand is built on a different idea: Accept the grit. Own the struggle.

When I stopped using shame as my primary motivator, my sobriety changed. I stopped trying to stay sober because I was “bad” and started trying to stay sober because I wanted to be useful. I stopped looking at my past as a reason to hide and started looking at it as a reason to build something—like this company.

Drop the Bag

Shame is a heavy bag to carry for eighteen holes. It tires you out before you hit the turn. It makes you pull clubs you have no business swinging because you’re trying to “prove” something to people who aren’t even watching.

If you’re white-knuckling your recovery, or your career, or your golf game because you’re afraid of looking like a failure, take a breath. Look at the skull on your hat. It’s already over for all of us eventually, so why waste the middle part feeling like garbage?

Motivation should come from the desire to see what you’re capable of, not from a fear of being “found out.”

Shame is a liar. It tells you that you have to be perfect to be worthy. Golf tells you that you just have to keep the ball in play. I’ll take the golf version every time.

Keep swinging. Even if it’s ugly. Actually, especially if it’s ugly.

Wear the struggle. Own the score. Check the new gear at skullandbogeys.com.