Every Excuse Is A Well-Dressed Fear: The Fear Of Embarrassment

Every excuse I ever made sounded smart in the moment.

“I just need more information.”

“Now is not the right time.”

“I should wait until I feel more prepared.”

If you had read my internal monologue, you might have thought I was very logical and responsible. I looked like someone who trusted wisdom and discernment.

But underneath all that polish was something much less glamorous.

Underneath almost every excuse I made, there was a simple, raw fear of embarrassment that I did not know how to name.

Somewhere along the line, my nervous system learned that being wrong, being messy, being too much or not enough, was dangerous. Not physically dangerous, but relationally dangerous. The kind of danger where you get mocked, dismissed, ignored, or quietly moved to the edge of the room.

So my mind did what clever minds do.

It dressed fear up in a better outfit.

Every excuse is just a well-dressed fear.

My ego protects me from embarrassment more than it guides me toward greatness.

The moment something feels uncertain, my mind pulls the emergency brake and calls it logic.

Until I am willing to look stupid, I will not be free.

When I finally wrote those lines down, I could feel Step 6 tapping its foot at me.

Because this is the step where the pattern is no longer mysterious.

I can see it, name it, and admit that it has been steering my life.

Shame as a Stylist

Shame very rarely walks in and says, “Hi, I am shame, and I would like to ruin your day.”

Shame shows up as:

“You are just being realistic.”

“Don’t make a scene.”

“People will think you are ridiculous if you try that.”

“You are too old to start now.”

Shame likes to drape itself in big, serious words.

It borrows language from “good judgment” and “common sense” and “high standards.”

It whispers, “I am not fear, I am discernment.”

“I am not avoidance, I am maturity.”

And if you grew up in a system where being seen in the wrong way had a cost, this disguise works. It worked on me for years.

I thought I was being thoughtful.

I thought I was being appropriate.

I thought I was being kind, especially when I was over-giving and under-asking.

In reality, my ego was just trying to keep me from ever having to feel the heat of embarrassment. It was more invested in my image than my aliveness.

The Emergency Brake That Calls Itself Logic

There is a specific moment my body knows too well.

It goes like this:

I have an idea.

I feel a little spark.

My stomach flips, in a good way.

Then, right on cue, my nervous system remembers every time I was laughed at, ignored, or side-eyed.

The brake slams down.

My shoulders get tight. My thoughts get loud and busy. I start listing all the reasons this is not the time, not the place, not the right version of me.

From the outside, it might look like I am “thinking it through.”

Inside, I am in a small, private panic that is pretending to be reasonable.

This is the part Step 6 wants me to see clearly.

Not to shame myself for it, but to stop worshipping it as truth.

I can respect my nervous system for trying to protect me, and still call out the costume.

“Thank you for your service, but this is fear, not logic.”

The Cost Of Staying Polished

Here is the trouble with always needing to look like I know what I am doing.

If I only act when I feel polished, I never get to be a beginner.

If I refuse to look foolish, I quietly refuse to grow.

I stayed in conversations I had outgrown because I did not want to be the dramatic one who walked away.

I swallowed my needs because I did not want to risk being “too much.”

I kept saying yes in order to not look difficult.

Every time I chose the image of being easy and agreeable over the truth of who I was, I lost a tiny piece of myself to the performance.

Step 6 is where I have to admit that my ego has not just protected me. It has also blocked me.

It protected me from short-term embarrassment, and it blocked me from long-term freedom.

Letting Myself Look Human

The antidote is not “just be brave” or “stop caring what people think.”

If it were that simple, we would all be doing it.

For me, the real shift sounds more like:

I am allowed to look unsure while I try.

I am allowed to ask questions and not already know the answer.

I am allowed to experiment, adjust, and look a little ridiculous while I learn.

I am allowed to disappoint people who only liked the polished version of me.

Freedom is not the absence of fear.

It is the willingness to feel a little exposed without calling that exposure a reason to stop.

Step 6 is where I catch myself in the middle of an excuse and say, “Hold on. Is this actually wisdom, or is this just shame in a nice outfit?”

Most of the time, it is shame.

And every time I call it by its real name, the emergency brake releases, just a little.

I do not suddenly become fearless, but I do become more honest.

And honest, awkward, imperfect action has carried me farther than any carefully curated delay.

A Slice of Humble Pie

I used to believe my excuses were proof that I was thoughtful, responsible, and appropriately cautious. Admitting that many of them were just fear wearing a blazer is humbling. It means I have to own the ways I have hidden, stalled, and avoided my own life. I am not a terrible person for doing that. I was trying to stay safe. But if I want a different kind of life, I have to stop letting shame dress up as logic and run the show.

Reflection

Where do you tend to pull the emergency brake and call it logic?

Think about one area of your life where you feel a tug toward growth, and then immediately start listing reasons you “can’t” or “shouldn’t.” Notice the exact words your mind uses. Do they sound like care and discernment, or do they sound like fear of embarrassment, rejection, or looking foolish?

You do not have to push yourself into the deep end today. Just notice the costume your fear prefers. Is it “I am too busy,” “I am too old,” “I am not ready,” or “People will not get it”? The more clearly you can see the disguise, the less power it has over you.

Affirmation

I am willing to feel a little exposed in order to feel a lot more alive.

Thank you for reading. If this stirred something in you and you’d like to spend more time with this work, you can explore The Humble Pie 12 Steps and learn more about how I support people as a trauma recovery coach.