I’m in my #dancemom era, and we’re in the heart of competition season. Last weekend, in my daughter’s ensemble piece, she messed up.
Now, dancers botch choreography all the time, and often, the audience is clueless because of the performers’ skills at improvising through blunders; but this time, my daughter ran across the stage prematurely during another dancer’s solo. They adapted and the show went on, but she felt like she'd stained their well-rehearsed piece and expressed her embarrassment.
Since then, I’ve been reflecting on embarrassment, and I think, in the grand scheme, I’m a fan of it.
To clarify, I don’t like feeling humiliated—that sensation where your heart beats inside your cheeks, where every nerve becomes electric, and where all you want is an invisible cloak. Yeah, no--that's awful. But life has proven to me many times over that once embarrassment's initial jolt has been endured, valuable insights are exposed in its wake.
Specifically, I believe that embarrassment can revea…
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