Everything is Embarrassing

The mortifying ordeal of being known

Hi! It’s good to be back, hope you’re all well. My BA Dissertation was due last Monday, but despite all my efforts, I couldn’t get it done in time. I had a two-week extension lined up just in case, so I succumbed to that. There was a moment, at the point of utter exhaustion, where I had to admit to myself that I needed it. My first feeling was not relief, but embarrassment. It felt like I was climbing a hill with sore legs and stopped minutes from the top to rest, feeling the weight of a hundred eyes on me. Everything seems like a performance these days — job applications, dating, finishing my degree. I’m holding a blank canvas and hoping that every stroke is one closer to a finished ideal self that I can present to people with pride. Moments like this are a step back, like a big hand has taken a black sharpie and scribbled all over the canvas. Here are my flaws! Take them or leave them! But while asking for help feels like a flaw, it’s just part of being human. Like Mary Oliver said, “You don’t have to be good”. Even though you want to be.

by @itsallinsideus (IG)

I am no stranger to a red face. I grew up with a lot of social anxiety, constantly aware of how I could be perceived. For a while, every conversation I had was ruthlessly analyzed. In my junior year of high school, I played the Harry Potter audiobooks through headphones in between classes so I didn’t have to think about what I had said in the discussion I had just walked out of. I would lay awake at night picking everything apart as if I was a case study. What can I do better? Would I have seemed cooler/nicer/funnier if I said X instead of Y? I would know the answers to these questions immediately after I spoke aloud, and the shame would heat my face. Several of my middle school journal entries feature drawings of me post-interaction with red scribbles on my cheeks. My mere existence felt humiliating. Eventually, I graduated high school and entered a university full of people who didn’t know me. There was no one to impress. I started a customer service job, where I was forced to have dozens of interactions a day with no time to analyze them. People stared at me as I made coffee and fiddled with the register, and slowly I learned to tune out the voice in my head in favor of doing my job correctly. I got more comfortable talking to people who didn’t know me, which, in turn, made me more confident talking to the people who do. And then, in my newfound comfort, I moved to a big city abroad — which made me feel so deeply insignificant in the best way possible.

This is “Regarding the Röttgen Pietà” by Elle Emerson:

No one is watching. 
So why does it have to be beautiful? 
You, in pain, are no closer to god than 
You, in the druve thru or 
You, checking your email or 
You, holding your own hand. 

In the Eighth Grade, right before graduation, my English teacher showed us a commencement speech in which we were indirectly told: “You are not special”. My friends and I used to joke about how absurd it was to be told that after graduating middle school. I get it now, though. I’m not special, and what a relief that is. I don’t have to perform for anyone. The cashier at the bookstore that I fumbled my words in conversation with won’t think of me twice. The group of university students who saw me nearly trip down Primrose Hill were in the middle of a conversation that was far more important. It’s liberating. It helps me focus on the love of those who know me, the people with whom I can feel unapologetically myself.

My first cell phone was an iPhone, and iMessage was often my primary mode of communication with friends growing up. The sent messages are blue, and the received are in grey. I hated the color blue for a long time because too much blue would mean too much Me. At one point I drafted longer responses into a text thread with myself, so I could re-read the lines at a different angle, to see them in grey and edit their length. But my adult friendships rely less on digital communication and more on the depth of quality time, like long phone calls or coffee every so often. I still find my mind internally wandering home from a lunch date, or my finger hovering before hitting “send” on a message responding to how are you? But the aforementioned text thread has transformed into a place to send myself poetry screenshots and photos and links I want to bookmark — self-priority, finally. A full-circle moment.

I am not a case study. You are not a case study. We are human beings with red faces and shaky hands and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Months after a bad friendship break-up in 2019, I woke up one morning feeling that should have would have could have itch under my skin. My dad gave me some advice: if you’re constantly looking in the rearview mirror, you won’t get anywhere. You have to leave things behind and drive forward. That sticks with me. I don’t want to overthink things anymore. I want to fill my head with books and poetry and music and the sound of chirping birds. I want to listen to my friends instead of blurring my brain with my own voice.

Nobody cares. Let that free you. Fly forward.

Further Reading

“Ask Polly: I Feel Ashamed of Almost Everything”

“Why Am I Like This?” by Orla Gartland

“Lament” by Mary Ruefle

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What I’ve Enjoyed Lately

Recent Reads

Still short bits — I cannot wait to get back to long-form text after this dissertation.

• “Tell Us A Story, Grandma” by Natalie Wise. Such a brief, lovely reflection on how we’ll communicate our emotions to future generations. I’ve been thinking a lot about the pandemic in particular, and if the emotional aspect is something that will be communicated in history classes.

• “Daisies” by Mary Oliver. I love opening my copy of Devotions and discovering new poems I haven’t reflected on before. I love her praise of the unseen, like the hearts of daisies. it is heaven itself to take what is given, / to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly

Other Wonderful Things

• Two Dots. I’ve had to remove myself from social media as I finish up this dissertation, and this game has been my little sanctuary on my breaks. It’s nice because it gives you a limited number of lives, so I can’t procrastinate on it much. It’s simple and fun and doesn’t require too much brainpower.

• I saw Mitski live in concert on Thursday and it was incredible. She is such a haunting and special performer — her voice gave me goosebumps. I feel like the last four years of my life have led up to me screaming “Nobody” live with a thousand other people. I always come out of concerts with a new favorite song: this time it’s “Happy”.

• I also saw Lewis Watson perform on Saturday. I grew into myself with his music as a soundtrack and it has guided me through so much of my life. He is such a friendly guy and a wonderful musician.

• This song, this song, this song, and this song. Playlist.

Thank you for being so patient as I trudge toward the finish line. Despite all my stress and struggles, I am really happy with how this dissertation is coming along and I can’t wait to share my findings with you all soon.

Much love always!!!!

<3

Tara