
There is something almost comical about blushing.
Just when you desperately want to hide what you are feeling, your body decides to announce it to everyone by turning your face bright red.
You may have said something stupid. Someone unexpectedly gives you a compliment. You walk into a room full of strangers and suddenly become aware that people are looking at you. Or, especially when we are young, someone we secretly admire starts talking to us and our normally impressive command of language suddenly seems to consist of three words.
And then we blush.
We don’t consciously decide to do it. Blushing is an automatic response of the nervous system. When we suddenly feel embarrassed, exposed or intensely self-conscious, our body reacts. Blood vessels in the face widen, more blood flows close to the surface of the skin, and there it is for everyone to see.
Which is rather inconvenient, because the message inside us is
usually: Please don’t notice that I’m embarrassed.
And the body replies: Excellent. Let’s make your face red.
But why do human beings do this?
Blushing appears to have a social function. It communicates something without words. After making a mistake, for example, a blush can show other people that we recognize what happened and that their response matters to us. Because blushing is involuntary, it can be a remarkably honest little signal.
But we don’t only blush when we have done something wrong. We can blush when someone praises us, when we become the center of attention, when someone attractive looks at us, or simply when we suddenly feel seen.
And perhaps that is where blushing becomes especially interesting.
Shame and insecurity often contain the fear of being seen differently from how we would like to be seen. What will they think of me? Do I look foolish? Am I good enough? Do I belong here?
Behind deeper shame there may even be the painful thought:
If you really knew me, you could not love me.
But underneath an ordinary blush, perhaps there is an even simpler version:
Oh no…you can see me.
As we become more comfortable with ourselves, something changes. We may still blush…our nervous system hasn’t necessarily received the memo….but being seen becomes less threatening.
We don’t have to present a perfect version of ourselves all the time. We can be awkward. We can say something silly. We can fail. We can forget someone’s name five seconds after being introduced. We can turn red.
None of it changes our worth.
Perhaps growing more at ease with ourselves is simply the gradual movement from:
Oh no… you can see me.
to:
Yes… you can see me. And that’s okay.
With love and light,
G.