Your Remote Voice

Unlearning Shame in the Silence of Home Offices

There’s an echo that follows many of us into our home offices. It doesn’t always shout. In fact, so quiet it almost sounds like your own thoughts. You should be doing more. You’re falling behind. You’re not really earning it. That voice? That’s shame.

In the remote world, it thrives in silence. You’re alone with your to-do list, your unread emails, your camera turned off. There’s no hallway smile or office chat to ground you. No “Want to grab a coffee?” to break the loop in your head. So the mind fills the gaps: If they don’t reply right away, did I say something wrong? Am I invisible? Am I failing?

Without the texture of human contact, I sometimes sit quiet at my desk for hours, wondering if I’m doing everything correctly. The little thumbs-up emoji just doesn’t cut it. No raised eyebrow or kind laugh to reassure me. Just stillness, and that internal itch: You’re probably getting it wrong.

I remember a day when that voice nearly swallowed me whole. We had to learn a new formula of measurement. It was complex, confusing, and urgent. I was told how to do it more than once, but it didn’t click. My boss was clearly frustrated. I felt ashamed, thick-headed, like I was wasting everyone’s time. Instead of spiraling, I reached out to a coworker who was handling the same issue. He offered to hop on a quick video call. Within minutes, he showed me his Excel setup and walked me through his process. Just hearing it explained a different way, with kindness and patience, unlocked it in my mind. That moment taught me something simple and profound: I wasn’t broken. I just needed a different bridge.

Shame doesn’t always come from trauma. Sometimes it’s a string of small lessons learned early: praise only when you win, love only when you’re good, attention only when you perform. Over time, those moments become beliefs, about worth, about work, about what it means to be “enough.”

Remote work magnifies those beliefs because it lacks context. No one sees the effort behind the scenes, they only see the outcome. So we internalize every delay, every silence, every correction as a personal failing. But it’s not.

For some of us, that shame drives overachievement. You’re the one replying at midnight, taking on too much, terrified of seeming lazy. For others, it leads to hiding. You mute yourself in meetings. You edit and re-edit simple messages. You don’t ask questions, not because you don’t care, but because somewhere along the line, you learned that asking made you look weak, or worse, replaceable.

Here’s something I want you to remember:

Guilt says, “I made a mistake.”

Shame says, “I am the mistake.”

And when shame leads the way, every Wi-Fi glitch, every typo, every blank stare on Zoom feels like proof you don’t belong.

You may be carrying someone else’s shame. A manager who barked at you for not knowing something you were never trained to do. A culture that rewards speed over care. A past job where emotions were labeled unprofessional. If you learned to equate rest with laziness, or questions with incompetence, you are not alone and you can begin to unlearn.

Here are a few steps that help me when the voice gets too loud:

• Say it aloud. When I want to give feedback about a confusing process or suggest better training, I test it first with someone I trust. Sharing what I would say to my boss with a supportive coworker helps me clarify my thoughts and hear how reasonable they actually are.

• Schedule a ten-minute check-in with yourself. When I feel doubt creeping in, I ask, Where is this coming from? Often it traces back to an old boss who used to yell if I didn’t immediately understand something. That moment shaped a fear that doesn’t belong in my life now.

• Get ready, even when no one’s watching. Washing my face, brushing my hair, getting dressed like I’m going to the office. Small rituals signal to my brain that I’m present, capable, and ready to begin. They ground me in my own dignity.

You are allowed to close the laptop without guilt. You are allowed to ask for help without shame. You are allowed to feel and not be a machine.

Remote work can be freeing. But it can also be lonely. If you feel like you’re always trying to earn your right to log in, to speak up, to matter, know this: your worth isn’t measured in Slack messages or checkboxes. It was never meant to be.

I’m still unlearning. But each step, like playing tugs with my dog mid-day, rewrites that story. Every kind message I send without overthinking, every moment I pause and breathe instead of spiraling, every time I trust myself a little more, the shame gets quieter. And the truth gets louder:

You are enough. Even when the Wi-Fi is lagging. Even when the to-do list isn’t done. Especially then.

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What silences your ‘little voice’? Comment or join me at wordsandwalks.substack.com.

You can also connect with Ryan at The Asteroid Agenda, a free community for writers and creatives. Check it out.