Why am I about to share one of the most embarrassing moments of my life ?
Because I’ve gotten older, and I’ve learned there are many things more important than embarrassment. That lesson didn’t come easy. Growing up in survival mode, I worked hard to present myself so nobody ever had anything to laugh at. Thankfully, I’ve moved on. I don’t live there anymore. One of the biggest perks of getting older is learning what actually matters and what doesn’t. These days, it’s about truth and freedom. Thank You, Jesus. So here’s the story.
I still have the picture in my mind. My bestie and I were walking home from Bell High School. It was bright and sunny, and I was deliriously happy that school was over, as usual. I walked back and forth most days, except when I ditched. I wasn’t involved in much there besides arriving at the last possible second and getting off campus no later than thirty seconds after the final bell. I kept my time there to a minimum.
But somewhere in between, I did manage to develop a crush.
That wasn’t typical for me. I didn’t really connect with my school peers. My crowd was one city over, in Bell Gardens, not at Bell High. But Jesse was cute. Rare there.
The walk home was always packed with students spilling out onto the street, but I don’t remember ever seeing Jesse on that route. My bestie did, though. She spotted him and pointed him out. I turned around, hit him with the smile, threw in a little wave, very casual, very composed, and turned right back around into a stop sign pole.
Full face. Immediate knot above the eye. My bestie was gone. Not physically, but she was absolutely no help. Doubled over, laughing the kind of laugh that has no sound yet. Everything in me wanted to pick up the pace, get around the corner, and disappear into the neighborhood like it never happened.
But Jesse came over.
This boy I had been quietly, low-key nervous about walked right up, genuinely concerned, and asked if I was okay. And I had to just stay there. Knot and all. No exit. Just me, my embarrassment, and his very sweet face.
What I’ve Learned About Shame
Here’s what I’ve since learned about shame: it really only has one move. Run. Hide. Make yourself small enough that nobody sees the part of you that just walked into a stop sign.
But some of the most real moments of connection happen exactly when we can’t run, when we’re standing there, knot visible, and somebody steps toward us anyway.
Shame says that being fully seen, unpolished, caught off guard, completely human, is the worst possible thing. But I keep finding out it’s actually the beginning of something. Something honest. Something free.
I spent a lot of years making sure nobody saw me stumble, literally and otherwise. The irony? The stumble is what brought Jesse over. The stumble is the story I’m still laughing about decades later.
Your stumble might not be funny yet. That’s okay. But whatever moment you’ve been fast-walking away from, whatever version of the stop sign pole you’re still carrying, I just want to ask:
What if you stayed?
The bravest thing you can do is stay. Knot and all.
One Next Step
If this story made you laugh but something in it still landed, that place you keep fast-walking past, the version of you that runs before anyone can see the knot, I’d love to help you learn to stay. I offer 1:1 coaching for people ready to stop hiding and start healing. Learn more about coaching with me here.