I wish I were cringier

Hey friend,

When people ask me what my biggest regret is, I don't have many. But looking back? I wish I were cringier.

Whether it was basketball, dancing, doing hair, or trying literally anything new, I’ve only done things I was naturally good at. I took being bad at something as a sign that I shouldn't be doing it. "Lean into your strengths," they say. And I did, religiously.

But here's what I'm learning: maybe we should lean into our weaknesses, too. Not to turn them into strengths, not to monetize them, not to become the next viral sensation. But just to experience the electric awkwardness of being terrible at something.

The Social Media Effect

We've been conditioned by perfectly curated feeds to believe that if you're not naturally gifted, it's not worth doing. Social media has weaponized our fear of looking foolish. Every post is a highlight reel: most aren’t showing their first wobbly attempt at roller skating or their voice cracking during karaoke. We tend to see the 10,000-hour experts, not the 10-minute beginners.

But what about the unglamorous reality? Someone genuinely struggling through month three of piano lessons, still hitting wrong notes. Someone in their tenth dance class, still stepping on toes. The long, slow, decidedly un-viral process of simply learning. For the sake of learning.

This constant exposure to either perfection (or perfectly packaged imperfection) has made us allergic to our own authentic learning curves.

The Neuroscience of Being a Beginner

Here's what happens when you push past the cringe: Your brain literally rewires itself. According to research from Harvard's Mind, Brain, and Education Program, neuroplasticity demonstrates that when people repeatedly practice an activity, their neural networks adapt to that activity. You're not just learning to salsa dance; you're teaching your brain to be comfortable with discomfort. You're building resilience at a cellular level.

But beyond the science, there's something human about embracing the awkward. When you let yourself be terrible at something publicly, you give everyone around you permission to be imperfect, too.

The Beauty of Being Bad

There's a specific kind of magic that only exists in the space between "I have no idea what I'm doing" and "I'm starting to get the hang of this." When you're an expert, you perform. When you're a beginner, you play.

Beyoncé once said, while rehearsing choreography that she couldn't nail: "You gotta be humble. You gotta be willing to look awkward." She wasn't talking about a one-time struggle. She was talking about the daily willingness to be seen stumbling through the steps.

Becoming a More Interesting Human

Here's what nobody tells you about trying things you're bad at: it makes you infinitely more interesting. When you have a little first-hand knowledge about everything, you become the person who can connect with anyone.

You can ask the pottery teacher informed questions about glazing techniques because you've tried (and failed) yourself. You can genuinely appreciate your friend's guitar progress because you know how hard that F chord is. You can have real conversations with the baker, the dancer, the gardener—not from a place of expertise, but from a place of shared experience.

These attempts give you texture, depth, and stories. In a world where everyone's trying to be an expert in one thing, being a joyful amateur at many things makes you more dimensional—and more connected.

My Challenge (To Myself and You)

So here's what I'm committing to: I'm going to be cringier. Perhaps it's finally taking that sewing class. It could be attempting to cook something beyond my usual three recipes. Or I might start sharing the messy middle of my creative process instead of just the polished final product.

Because in a world obsessed with personal branding and "finding your niche," maybe the most rebellious thing you can do is be bad at something. On purpose. With joy.

What's one thing you've been avoiding because you're afraid of looking foolish? That thing? That's your assignment.

Be cringe. Do it anyway.

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Until Next Time, 

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