This week’s post is about what Ted Lasso reminded me about embarrassment, vulnerability, and refusing to stay small. So if you haven’t yet seen this week’s (September 1) episode, this is your warning!!!

If you know me at all, you know I love Ted Lasso. Yes, I love the humor, the characters, and the one-liners, but what has always drawn me to the show is how often it sneaks up on you. One minute you’re laughing, and the next minute you’re sitting there thinking, “Well…I wasn’t prepared to deal with THAT today.”

That’s exactly what happened to me while watching this week’s episode, “Riches of Embarrassment.”

There were several moments that stuck with me, but one word kept coming back over and over again: embarrassment. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized just how much power we give that one emotion.

During the episode, the Richmond women’s team heads into halftime struggling. They’re playing Chelsea on a huge stage, things aren’t going the way they’d hoped, and frustration is growing.

Then embarrassment enters the conversation.

But Ted takes it somewhere deeper. Instead of simply giving his team another motivational speech, he gets vulnerable.

Earlier, a photo had been taken of him sitting alone eating a hot dog. Other people saw the photo and interpreted it as Ted being lonely. But Ted explains to the team that he wasn’t actually lonely in that moment.

He was embarrassed. Not necessarily because of what he was doing, but because of what other people might think when they saw him doing it.

And isn’t that so often where embarrassment gets its power? Not from what actually happened, but from what we think other people might think about what happened.

We start wondering what they’re going to think about us. Do they think I failed? Do they think I don’t know what I’m doing? Do they think I’m not good enough? Did I make myself look stupid?

Before long, we’re not even responding to reality anymore. We’re responding to a story we’ve created in our own head. That’s the danger of embarrassment. Embarrassment can take one moment and turn it into a story about who we are.

I didn’t just make a mistake; I’m a failure. That presentation didn’t go as well as I’d hoped; everyone probably thinks I’m terrible at my job. That post didn’t get the response I expected; maybe nobody cares what I have to say.

Someone didn’t invite me, so they must not like me. I tried something new and it didn’t work, so I should have known better than to put myself out there.

See how quickly it happens?

A moment becomes a story. And then, if we’re not careful, the story becomes something we start believing about ourselves. And that’s where Ted’s message hit me hardest.

When we allow embarrassment to consume us, eventually we start making decisions designed to protect ourselves from ever feeling it again. We stop raising our hand or sharing the idea. We don’t apply for the position. We stop writing, creating, asking, or trying. Sometimes we even stop letting people get close enough to really know us.

Because if I never put myself out there, nobody can reject me. If I never try something new, nobody can watch me fail. If I never share what I’m really thinking, nobody can disagree with me. And if I never let you see the real me, you can’t decide the real me isn’t enough.

Suddenly embarrassment hasn’t just affected a moment. It has started shrinking our life. That’s what I don’t want for myself, and I don’t want it for you either.

I’ve learned that some of the best things in my life have happened because I was willing to risk looking foolish. I’ve shared things that didn’t connect. I’ve walked off stages replaying everything I wish I had done differently. I’ve put ideas into the world that didn’t work. I’ve stumbled through conversations, failed, been rejected, misunderstood situations, and gotten things wrong.

And yes, I’ve been embarrassed.

But I’ve also learned, grown, connected, and experienced things I never would have experienced if I had allowed the fear of embarrassment to make my decisions for me.

Maybe courage isn’t never feeling embarrassed. Maybe courage is refusing to let embarrassment decide what you do next.

But the episode wasn’t finished with me yet.

Near the end, Keeley walks down to the locker room to apologize to the players. She had worked hard to promote their match at Nelson Road, and while the tickets had sold, when game time arrived there were still far more empty seats than she’d hoped.

Keeley saw those empty seats and saw failure. She walked down to that locker room carrying disappointment and believing she’d let everyone down.

But the players are confused. They tell her that the crowd was about twice the size of what they were used to playing in front of. What Keeley saw as a disappointing turnout, they saw as something incredible.

Keeley saw empty seats.
They saw the biggest crowd they’d ever played for.
Same stadium. Same crowd. Same moment. Completely different story.

And WOW did that hit me.

How many times have I completely missed something worth celebrating because I was too busy looking at the empty seats?

How many times have you?

We wanted 100 people to show up and 40 came, so we focus on the 60 who didn’t. We wanted everybody to love our idea and three people complained, so those are the three voices we remember. We wanted the project to be perfect, but a few things didn’t work, and somehow those few things become the entire story.

We do it with our families, our careers, our finances, our relationships, our work, and even our social media. We build an expectation in our heads of what something is supposed to look like, and when reality doesn’t perfectly match that expectation, we overlook everything that went right.

Sometimes we’re so focused on who didn’t show up that we forget to appreciate everyone who did. Sometimes we’re so focused on what didn’t work that we miss everything that did. We’re so focused on how far we still have to go that we completely ignore how far we’ve already come.

Then Boots says something to Keeley that might be my favorite moment of the entire episode. In her own very colorful way, she tells Keeley that those negative voices in her head need to shut up.

Because Keeley had done something incredible.
She just couldn’t see it.

Maybe that’s the reminder some of us need today, because I know those voices. I’ve got them too.

They’re the voices that tell us we’re not as good as someone else, that we should be further along by now, or that eventually everyone is going to figure out we don’t know what we’re doing. They tell us we embarrassed ourselves, should have done better, nobody really cares, or we’re simply not enough.

Those voices can be LOUD.
But loud doesn’t mean true.

Our minds are incredibly good at finding the empty seats. We replay the awkward moment, remember the criticism while forgetting the compliment, magnify the mistake while minimizing the victory, and convince ourselves that everyone else is thinking about our failure as much as we are.

Most of the time, they’re not.
They’re too busy worrying about their own empty seats.

Maybe that’s the question I’m sitting with after this episode:
What story am I telling myself about what happened?

Because “What happened?” and “What am I telling myself about what happened?” are two very different questions. Maybe the presentation wasn’t perfect. That’s what happened. “Everyone thinks I’m incompetent” is the story.

Maybe someone told you no. That’s what happened. “I’ll never get another opportunity” is the story. Maybe you made a mistake. That’s what happened. “I’m such an idiot” is the story. Maybe fewer people showed up than you hoped. That’s what happened. “Nobody cares about what I’m doing” is the story.

We have to learn to separate the event from the story we attach to it, because sometimes the story we’re telling ourselves simply isn’t true.

Sometimes we need somebody else to walk into our locker room and remind us what actually happened. We need people who will point toward the crowd and ask, “Do you realize what you just did? Do you realize how far you’ve come? Do you realize how many people you impacted? Do you realize how proud you should be?”

And sometimes we need to learn to be that person for ourselves. You’re going to have embarrassing moments. So am I.

We’re going to say the wrong thing, try things that don’t work, walk into rooms where we feel completely out of place, fail publicly, misunderstand situations, and have moments we wish we could rewind and do differently.

That’s part of being human. But embarrassment doesn’t get to write the ending.

One awkward moment doesn’t define you. Neither does one mistake, one failure, one person’s opinion, or one empty seat. None of those things erase all the other parts of your story.

So take the risk. Raise your hand and share the idea. Apply for the job. Write the book. Start the project. Have the conversation. Tell someone how you feel. Let people see you.

And when those voices in your head start reminding you of all the reasons you should shrink back, remember what the Richmond players reminded Keeley: Maybe you’re doing a whole lot better than you think you are.

Look around. Notice the people who showed up, the progress you’ve made, the growth that’s happened, and the courage it took just to get into the arena in the first place.

And whatever you do…
Don’t let the fear of embarrassment convince you to live a smaller life.