I used to be the kind of person who lacked confidence. I worried about everything. Afraid of making mistakes, looking weird, or being seen as “different.” In my mind, everyone around me was watching and judging, even with just a passing glance. The result? I ended up missing out on so many valuable opportunities.
For instance, when I was asked to be the Chairperson of an event. Instead of feeling proud that someone trusted me, I was too busy thinking, “What if I mess up? What will people say?” In the end, I backed out. The same thing happened when I had the chance to voice an opinion on behalf of my group. Instead of stepping up confidently, I pretended to be busy taking notes—notes that were nothing more than meaningless scribbles.
In fact, when I was asked to lead a research group—which is pretty much a “default” role for a lecturer—I was still scared. The thought of failure, criticism, or just feeling not good enough always loomed over me. It felt like there was this little voice in my head saying, “You’re not going to make it.”
But when I thought about it again, do people really care about every single step I take? If I make a small mistake, will it become the talk of the town forever? Honestly, the older I get, the more I realize: they don’t. People, truthfully, are busy with their own lives. So maybe I’ve just been a little too self-centered, thinking everyone cares so much about me.
Funny, isn’t it? I feel insecure because I assume I’m too important in other people’s minds. But the reality is far from that. Because of this overwhelming insecurity, I used to act all mysterious. I hid everything under the guise of “privacy.” But honestly, it was just a shield to cover up my lack of confidence. I was afraid people would see sides of me they might find lacking.
The problem was, while I was busy hiding myself, other people were casually sharing their achievements. Flaunting certificates, new positions, or accomplishments that felt like stars in the sky—distant and impossible for me to reach. Instead of feeling motivated, I only felt smaller. Instead of chasing after those goals, I sank deeper into a sense of helplessness.
Then came an unavoidable moment: I had to force myself to step up and be brave. There was no other choice—I had to take a leap. But what happened? My biggest fear came true. I made a mistake. Not a small one you can brush off with an awkward smile, but a mistake that affected many people. At that moment, it felt like the world was collapsing on top of me. I was overwhelmed with worry. My mind spiraled into worst-case scenarios: what if this all failed because of me? What if I became the reason everyone’s hopes were crushed? That guilt haunted me.
As is often the case, I got stuck in a cycle of overthinking. I regretted everything, thinking maybe I should’ve just stayed hidden. After all, if I didn’t try, I wouldn’t have made a mess, right? But once I calmed down and looked at the situation more clearly, I realized that these fears and regrets were just part of my learning journey.
Whether out of curiosity or simply being tired of the endless assumptions spinning in my head, I finally gathered the courage to ask people around me directly: “What did you think of me when I did this or that?” At first, I hesitated, afraid their answers would only crush me further. But honestly, I’d already reached a point where any answer was better than endlessly guessing.
To my surprise, their responses were unexpected. Some people said, “Oh, I didn’t expect you to do that well!” Hearing that, I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I was relieved that I wasn’t as bad as I thought. But on the other hand, I was confused—“Wait, why didn’t they expect me to do well?”
Even more interesting was the casual response from others who said, “Honestly, I wasn’t really paying attention, so I don’t have much to say.” That answer might seem ordinary, but to me, it was a wake-up call. I’d been so consumed by the idea that everyone was watching and judging me. But in reality, they were busy living their own lives, too preoccupied with their own concerns to focus on the details of mine.
Isn’t it ironic? The thing I feared all along was only in my head. In that moment, I realized: maybe it’s time to stop burdening myself with expectations that don’t even exist.
What I experienced is something called the spotlight effect. It’s a psychological phenomenon where people tend to overestimate how much others are paying attention to them. Simply put, we feel like the center of the universe, as if all eyes are on us.
I feel this way often. Every time I do something—especially when I make a mistake—my mind immediately imagines everyone watching, judging, and criticizing. But in reality, life isn’t a grand stage play with me as the lead actor. The people around us? They’re busy living their own lives. Here’s the harsh truth: we’re not that important. What we think is a big deal to others is often just a fleeting moment they barely notice. Ironically, it took me a long time to realize this. But once I did, it felt like a heavy burden was slowly being lifted.
So, perhaps the most valuable lesson from the spotlight effect is accepting that life isn’t always about us. And that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it gives us the space to breathe and live our days without constantly feeling like we’re under a spotlight.
At the end of the day, life isn’t about being perfect in the eyes of others. Fear, mistakes, and self-doubt are all part of what makes us human. We often forget that the world is full of people who are also struggling, also worrying, and also busy with their own challenges.
So instead of being trapped in fears that exist only in our minds, why not try to move forward with a lighter heart? Let go of the burdens we don’t need to carry and focus on what truly matters: learning, growing, and sharing. Because in the end, life doesn’t demand perfection from us. It only asks that we show up—and dare to take steps forward, even if we sometimes stumble.
The problem was, while I was busy hiding myself, other people were casually sharing their achievements. Flaunting certificates, new positions, or accomplishments that felt like stars in the sky—distant and impossible for me to reach. Instead of feeling motivated, I only felt smaller. Instead of chasing after those goals, I sank deeper into a sense of helplessness.
Then came an unavoidable moment: I had to force myself to step up and be brave. There was no other choice—I had to take a leap. But what happened? My biggest fear came true. I made a mistake. Not a small one you can brush off with an awkward smile, but a mistake that affected many people. At that moment, it felt like the world was collapsing on top of me. I was overwhelmed with worry. My mind spiraled into worst-case scenarios: what if this all failed because of me? What if I became the reason everyone’s hopes were crushed? That guilt haunted me.
As is often the case, I got stuck in a cycle of overthinking. I regretted everything, thinking maybe I should’ve just stayed hidden. After all, if I didn’t try, I wouldn’t have made a mess, right? But once I calmed down and looked at the situation more clearly, I realized that these fears and regrets were just part of my learning journey.
Whether out of curiosity or simply being tired of the endless assumptions spinning in my head, I finally gathered the courage to ask people around me directly: “What did you think of me when I did this or that?” At first, I hesitated, afraid their answers would only crush me further. But honestly, I’d already reached a point where any answer was better than endlessly guessing.
To my surprise, their responses were unexpected. Some people said, “Oh, I didn’t expect you to do that well!” Hearing that, I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I was relieved that I wasn’t as bad as I thought. But on the other hand, I was confused—“Wait, why didn’t they expect me to do well?”
Even more interesting was the casual response from others who said, “Honestly, I wasn’t really paying attention, so I don’t have much to say.” That answer might seem ordinary, but to me, it was a wake-up call. I’d been so consumed by the idea that everyone was watching and judging me. But in reality, they were busy living their own lives, too preoccupied with their own concerns to focus on the details of mine.
Isn’t it ironic? The thing I feared all along was only in my head. In that moment, I realized: maybe it’s time to stop burdening myself with expectations that don’t even exist.
What I experienced is something called the spotlight effect. It’s a psychological phenomenon where people tend to overestimate how much others are paying attention to them. Simply put, we feel like the center of the universe, as if all eyes are on us.
I feel this way often. Every time I do something—especially when I make a mistake—my mind immediately imagines everyone watching, judging, and criticizing. But in reality, life isn’t a grand stage play with me as the lead actor. The people around us? They’re busy living their own lives. Here’s the harsh truth: we’re not that important. What we think is a big deal to others is often just a fleeting moment they barely notice. Ironically, it took me a long time to realize this. But once I did, it felt like a heavy burden was slowly being lifted.
So, perhaps the most valuable lesson from the spotlight effect is accepting that life isn’t always about us. And that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it gives us the space to breathe and live our days without constantly feeling like we’re under a spotlight.
At the end of the day, life isn’t about being perfect in the eyes of others. Fear, mistakes, and self-doubt are all part of what makes us human. We often forget that the world is full of people who are also struggling, also worrying, and also busy with their own challenges.
So instead of being trapped in fears that exist only in our minds, why not try to move forward with a lighter heart? Let go of the burdens we don’t need to carry and focus on what truly matters: learning, growing, and sharing. Because in the end, life doesn’t demand perfection from us. It only asks that we show up—and dare to take steps forward, even if we sometimes stumble.
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