At 29, I gave birth to my first child. It turned out to be a perfectly healthy, sturdy-looking 10-pounder. Apart from this fine person who has been in my life since then, I also received a 'gift':

I can't remember names since pregnancy. Where before I had a faultless memory for names and faces, now there is a black hole. At first I thought it would come back, then I started taking fish oil and doing difficult puzzles to train my brain. And now it's even worse: I regularly assign the wrong name to people and then I do remember them.

Being bad with names is not necessarily helpful if, like me, you do a lot of training or work with groups. For example, last weekend I accidentally found myself on Francine's heart again. I have been sharing life's ups and downs with her for 6 months in an intensive training program. Do I hear myself saying to her at lunch "will you sit with us Patricia? Or would you rather be alone?"

From Francine's touched reaction, I could see I was wrong and I couldn't think of her real name from shock either. Bloody irritating and above all: embarrassing! Because how do you explain something like that...?

I decided to do it straight from the heart. I told the story of the 10 pounder and especially how elated I feel when something like that happens. After all, you could easily explain it as a lack of interest or care and nothing could be further from the truth. 

The honest story from my shame about this became the prelude to a wonderful conversation and produced mutual respect.

The idea of being honest in that way didn't come entirely from me. Brene Brown, American professor of psychology and best-selling author, put me on that path.

In her latest book (Stronger Than Ever) she explains, in line with evolutionary psychology, what we do in difficult, painful, embarrassing situations, namely fight or flight. But there are also people who do something completely different in such situations. These people are able to repair relationships, lead effectively, move on after loss. Because they don't fight or run, but feel. And that starts with not being afraid of uncomfortable feelings. There is an apparent paradox in showing uncomfortable feelings. Showing your imperfections feels at first like weakness, but for the other person it is often a testimony of courage. And thus change begins. Because the moment feelings of shame no longer need to be suppressed, they slowly lose their influence.

It won't get me my name memory back. But it does help to keep things a little lighter. And to see the humor in it here and there with each other.

Humor. Another life saver. I suggest Brene dedicate her next book to that.