Feeling a Little Embarrassed

Neel Burton, in a 2014 online article for Psychology Today describes embarrassment as “the feeling of discomfort experienced when some aspect of ourselves is, or threatens to be, witnessed by or otherwise revealed to others and we think that this revelation is likely to undermine the image of ourselves that, for whatever reason or reasons, we seek to project to those others”.  I like that.  On the other hand, Webster defines embarrassment as “the state of feeling foolish in front of others”.  That is about as succinct and to the point as you can ask for.  It’s one of those words that we know from experience yet may have a hard time defining on our own.  In other words, you may not be able to tell me what embarrassment is, but you do know what it is.

Embarrassment is not simply an internal feeling, however.  It expresses itself physically in many ways.  The most obvious is a red face.  Others include grimacing, looking away, or simply shaking our head in disbelief that we said or did something so totally embarrassing.

A quick disclaimer is in order here.  I am not medically qualified to discuss anything related to embarrassment or any other emotion.  My comments are strictly from experience and observation.  So if you think I’m wrong, I probably am.

I think embarrassment is harder on younger people.  There seems to be some correlation between aging and the embarrassment quotient.  We’ve all see this with our kids and teenagers who can be embarrassed by our mere presence.  And if we ever dare to say something that is not “cool” (is that still a good word?) in front of their friends, we have truly embarrassed them beyond repair. Their lives will never be the same.

But as you get older, it seems that we get embarrassed less and less.  I have a couple of theories.  One is that we have discussed and seen about all there is to see and we have such a good understanding of human nature, that nothing shocks or embarrasses us.  That’s not necessarily a good thing, because the ability to be embarrassed is still a virtue in my book.

The other reason I think is that as we grow older, we find more humor in things and can laugh about the same things which once embarrassed us.  We tend to take ourselves a little less seriously, and worry less about impressing people.  I’ve seen older people make statements when I’m sure that they knew it would make half the people in the room feel a little awkward, and then guffaw about it.  Not in a mean spirited way, mind you, but as more of a free spirit.  Let’s face it, the older we get, the more tolerant people are with us.  I am personally looking forward to using my later years to embarrass my children and grandchildren any time I get the chance!

Okay, I can’t write about embarrassment without sharing a few examples in my own life.  At the time, some of them were devastating and I thought the world would surely end.  Looking back, it was something to simply laugh about.  For example, when I was a first grader at Russellville Elementary, we lived in a small frame house beyond Dillard Hollow (pronounced Holler) about a half mile from the school.  We walked to school every day.  We really did.  It happened that in our first grade program, I was a bumblebee.  Yep, you heard right.  And I was so proud when Mom made this perfect bumblebee suit, black fabric with large yellow polka dots.  But then the reality set in that I would have to walk to school looking like a giant bumblebee.  Was I embarrassed?  You be the judge.  A half-mile walk through the neighborhood and school yard by a first grader is going to leave some scars.

A few short years later, I noticed on the way to school that I had developed an uncomfortable itch.  As I sat in my fifth-grade classroom at Belgreen School that itch became more and more rampant in my midsection.  Obviously I scratched as discreetly as I could, but there was no relief.  None.  I was totally embarrassed whenever I would see a classmate looking at me wondering why I was incessantly scratching.  As the day went on, the agony continued.  I began to consider the possibility that I had some insidious disease.  Or maybe a frayed nerve ending that I needed to locate because it was spreading!  I was almost in tears as we finally boarded the bus for home that afternoon.  After a miserable half-hour bus ride with more scratching and more embarrassment, I scampered from the bus to the front door, almost in tears and told Mom what I had been through.  Interestingly enough, my brothers and sisters had similar stories.  Mom could not contain her laughter.  We didn’t see the humor, even after she told us that she had accidentally washed our underwear with the fiberglass curtains.  Some of you are old enough to know what fiberglass curtains are.  Trust me.  No amount of fabric softener can solve the problem of mixing underwear and fiberglass.

And then there was that time in college when I was working part-time at Printers and Stationers, an office supply story in Florence.  (I have nothing but fond memories and a great appreciation for Mr. Cox and Mr. Stewart for allowing me to work there for most of my college year.)  I was a stock boy and sales clerk who greeted customers and answered the phone.  We always answered the phone with a cheerful “PSI” and the door with “Hello.  Can I help you?”  Except on the day when I walked up to a customer as he came in the front door listened in horror as my lips spouted the word, “PSI”.  He looked at me, nodded and walked over to look at the briefcases.  I found work to do behind the counter.

Over the course of my life, I’ve had many others.  There is the “rare” occasion when I have accused my wife of misplacing something belonging to me and later find it in a coat pocket.  Or when I am adamant that a certain shirt is not in my closet, only to see her pluck it from the rack and hand it to me with a smile.

I’ve had more than one occasion at the office when I was certain that a file was not in the cabinet and lectured everyone on the importance of filing, only to have my office manager pull the same trick with the file as my wife did with the shirt.

On a more serious level, I have been embarrassed many times, especially in my younger years, when I was bit more fiery.  I would express my dissatisfaction or frustration in ways that still cause me to cringe when I think about them.  In other words, I flipped my lid and then had to own up to the error of my ways.

I have also been embarrassed because I made wrong assumptions which led to disagreements based on those assumptions.  This is akin to the times I have been guilty of judging motives only to find out that I was entirely in the wrong.  I have become pretty good at apologizing over the years.

Or, how about those times I have stood before the group of men who I teach on Sunday morning, knowing I have not prepared as well as I should.  Yes, I’ve been embarrassed by my lack of preparation on more than one occasion.  Sometimes you can hide the fact that you’re winging it, but you can’t fool all the people all the time.

The truth is, we’ve all been embarrassed more than we’d like to admit.  And as we live out our lives, we will continue to be.  But at the end the day, we are wise to heed the old adage, “Don’t take life too seriously because you’ll never get out alive”.  As I talked about above, much of our embarrassment occurs when we don’t live up to the image that we desire to project to others.  As we get more comfortable in our own skin, we don’t worry about simply projecting the right image or concern ourselves with other’s unrealistic expectations.  And we become embarrassed less often.  And when we are embarrassed, it is usually something worth being embarrassed about, or better yet, something we can simply laugh off.

Hope your day is blunder free and that your face is not red from embarrassment.