Trying Is Embarrassing
Why doing anything new can feel like public humiliation… even when no one is watching.
There is something strangely embarrassing about trying.
Not failing.
Not even doing badly.
Just trying.
Trying anything new somehow feels like you are humiliating yourself in public… even when there is no audience.
It’s such a strange feeling because logically, we know no one is actually paying attention to us. Everyone is busy with their own lives, their own worries, their own little dramas. But somehow, in our minds, it feels like stepping outside and doing something new has placed a giant spotlight on us.
I remember when I first wanted to start evening walks.
Not even running. Just walking.
For some reason, I didn’t want anyone to know I was going for a walk. Which is funny now that I think about it. Walking is one of the most normal human activities. But in my head, it felt like announcing to the entire neighborhood that I had suddenly decided to start exercising.
So I did something ridiculous.
I would wear random clothes. Not proper workout clothes. Just anything that looked casual enough to pass as “I’m just stepping outside for something small.” I would wear Crocs instead of sneakers so it didn’t look like exercise.
Looking back now, it makes absolutely no sense.
Who was I hiding from?
No one cared.
The truth is that everyone outside was probably thinking about their own lives — what to cook for dinner, the message they forgot to reply, the meeting they had the next day. Meanwhile, I was carefully constructing an outfit to disguise the fact that I was… going for a walk.
It’s funny how our minds work like that.
We spend so much time imagining what people might think about us that we stop ourselves from simply living.
Now things are different.
I go on morning runs. Proper running shoes. Proper workout clothes. No disguise. No pretending I’m just stepping out for something small. I just go and do my thing.
But here’s the funny part.
Even though I’ve clearly learned that no one cares… I still get embarrassed trying new things.
You would think I had learned the lesson by now, but apparently the brain doesn’t update that quickly.
I remember a time when I liked someone and never told them.
I think about it sometimes.
Not in a dramatic way. Just one of those quiet reflections where you wonder how different life might have been if you had simply said something.
Maybe nothing would have happened.
Maybe everything would have happened.
But the embarrassing part is realizing that the thing that stopped me wasn’t logic or circumstance. It was just that small, familiar fear of looking foolish.
And that feeling shows up everywhere in life.
When you want to start exercising.
When you want to post something online.
When you want to try a new hobby.
When you want to speak up in a room.
When you want to tell someone how you feel.
Trying makes us feel exposed.
Because trying reveals something very simple: we are beginners.
We don’t know exactly what we’re doing yet. We might look awkward. We might fail. Someone might notice.
And for some reason, our brains treat that possibility like a small social disaster.
But the strange truth about life is this:
Everyone else is far too busy worrying about their own embarrassment to focus on yours.
They are replaying their own awkward conversations. Thinking about the message they shouldn’t have sent. Wondering if they looked weird when they tried something new.
Everyone is standing under their own imaginary spotlight.
Which means the stage is actually empty.
The audience we fear most is usually just our own mind.
So maybe the goal isn’t to completely remove the embarrassment. Maybe that never goes away.
Maybe the real goal is learning to try anyway.
To go on the walk.
To say the thing.
To wear the running shoes.
To start the thing you might be bad at for a while.
Because sometimes the biggest things we miss in life aren’t the things we failed at.
They are the things we were too embarrassed to even try.


Trying publicly always feels a little like handing someone your unfinished self and asking them to judge it. But the irony is that the life people admire later is almost always built on years of visible, slightly embarrassing attempts that most people were too afraid to make.