I so appreciate you, Chris. I had one of those very deep cringe moments yesterday. I was reading a novel and all of a sudden I saw that I was not who I thought I was at all and was very embarrassed by my way of being in the world. It was a very deep moment, accompanied by many tears. And, I am leaning into it and seeing it as a point of learning and liberation. Of course, because of you and others in my life, I could make the choice to lean in rather than run away. I am very grateful.
This resonates deeply with me, especially the idea of embarrassment as a threshold emotion.
What strikes me is how connected cringe seems to be with aliveness—with visibly wanting something before we know whether the room will hold us.
What I've seen is that many people retreat from embarrassment not because they are weak, but because their nervous systems experience social exposure as genuinely dangerous.
Which makes me think the question is not only whether we can tolerate cringe, but whether there are conditions strong enough for cringe to become play rather than collapse.
The people who helped me most were not the ones who reassured me out of embarrassment. They were the ones who welcomed it while I risked being awkward, sincere, uncool, and visibly uncertain. People who made enough room for experimentation so that humiliation no longer felt final.
What you are creating here feels rare to me for exactly that reason: a room where people can approach uncertainty, awkwardness, aspiration, and becoming without immediately needing to defend themselves from it.
I'm Lori Linseedoil Case, a psychotherapist and writer with twenty-five years of experience sitting with people in exactly these threshold places. I write about the conditions that allow emotional life to return, at The Hearth newsletter and on Substack at Staying With.
One of the many reasons theatrical improvisation is a personally transformational genre - and one I will build into my group practices.
Clowning is getting traction out here i n LA as well.
A good clown lives and dies in cringe. Except a clown never dies 🤡
I so appreciate you, Chris. I had one of those very deep cringe moments yesterday. I was reading a novel and all of a sudden I saw that I was not who I thought I was at all and was very embarrassed by my way of being in the world. It was a very deep moment, accompanied by many tears. And, I am leaning into it and seeing it as a point of learning and liberation. Of course, because of you and others in my life, I could make the choice to lean in rather than run away. I am very grateful.
This resonates deeply with me, especially the idea of embarrassment as a threshold emotion.
What strikes me is how connected cringe seems to be with aliveness—with visibly wanting something before we know whether the room will hold us.
What I've seen is that many people retreat from embarrassment not because they are weak, but because their nervous systems experience social exposure as genuinely dangerous.
Which makes me think the question is not only whether we can tolerate cringe, but whether there are conditions strong enough for cringe to become play rather than collapse.
The people who helped me most were not the ones who reassured me out of embarrassment. They were the ones who welcomed it while I risked being awkward, sincere, uncool, and visibly uncertain. People who made enough room for experimentation so that humiliation no longer felt final.
What you are creating here feels rare to me for exactly that reason: a room where people can approach uncertainty, awkwardness, aspiration, and becoming without immediately needing to defend themselves from it.
I'm Lori Linseedoil Case, a psychotherapist and writer with twenty-five years of experience sitting with people in exactly these threshold places. I write about the conditions that allow emotional life to return, at The Hearth newsletter and on Substack at Staying With.
In the worlds of Mrs. Frizzle “Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!”🚌🦎
I feel cringe every time I post a comment. Trying not to let it stop me!