My dear friend,
It’s time. This is the year, baby. I am embarking on breaking one of my worst habits, and you’re coming along with me.
In the broad spectrum of behavior, there are those who don’t apologize enough or don’t recognize when situations/their actions merit one. In that spectrum, you’ll see me waving on the other end. I’m a terrible over-apologizer. It’s a bad habit that’s gone on for so long, I don’t always realize when I’ve said it. It’s embarrassing, it makes me feel small, and it so quickly, so easily throws away hard work I've put in to stand my ground and remain sure of myself.
As I’m sure many people do, before I fall asleep, I crawl my way through mangroves of the day’s awkward exchanges or embarrassing moments, but a fun addition to this machete-wielding endeavor has been totaling up the day’s apologies. I sink further under my sheets recalling how many ways it snuck in. Ordering at the coffee shop. Speaking up in meetings. Three texts. One-sided conversations with my dog.
I hate to “Webster’s Dictionary defines,” myself, but in this particular case, I do think we’d benefit by starting with cut & dry descriptions for these terms.
sorry
feeling regret, compunction, sympathy, pity, etc.
regrettable or deplorable; unfortunate; tragic
sorrowful, grieved, or sad
associated with sorrow; suggestive of grief or suffering; melancholy; dismal
wretched, poor, useless, or pitiful
apology
1. a written or spoken expression of one's regret, remorse, or sorrow for having insulted, failed, injured, or wronged another
2. a defense, excuse, or justification in speech or writing, as for a cause or doctrine.
3. an inferior specimen or substitute; makeshift
In the majority of those definitions, situational requirements call for an external circumstance. Spilled coffee on a lap. An argument between two parties. Breaking a dish. Telling a lie. Forgetting someone’s dance performance. Cancelling plans.
A fight, a loss, a wrongdoing. An event with two players. The bulk of my apologies come from internal conclusions and internal reasonings, rather than anything explicitly done.
In my mind, I begin most interactions with an inherent awkwardness, an inferiority, a loss for the right words, or an otherwise inherent apologetic quality, the phrase is already at the forefront of my mind. This is not done for pity’s sake. I’m not even looking for validation and in these moments, reassurance can make my face burn red.
Instead, these apologies act almost as a nod that I expect things to go wrong. I’m bearing with me, so no doubt they are, too. A recognition of extended patience. An announcement from the pilot when the plane encounters a delay or turbulence. “I’m so sorry. I know you have a lot of options with whom to spend your time, so thank you for choosing me.”
I’ll quote Suzanne Rivecca, who stated where I’m trying to go here best:
I won’t go into my childhood here or trauma that no doubt taught me apologizing was the way to get by, but I know this behavior was further supported by others indirectly, too. They may not have outwardly encouraged it but benefitted from it and didn’t want to relieve the power they received from it or create an environment where it wasn’t needed. I’m able to better sense when people are trying to draw that out of me now and defiantly stay tight-lipped.
There are even apologies that may not look like apologies, but definitely live at the same address. “Does that make sense?” “If that’s okay.” Any time one of those phrases slips out, I know “I’m sorry” is not too far, waiting with a high-five for it.
Regardless of outside forces, this is something I want to fix for me. To relax my shoulders all the way down. To iterate a thought slowly and completely without rushing to its end. To expand my vocabulary, and my communication, to include insightful, intentional choices. To quit bearing with myself (and the belief that others are too) and take up space, unapologetically. This is a bad habit and a bad mindset that I don’t want to live in anymore.
So what feeds it?
In exploring my relationship with over-apologizing, I try to figure out why or under what circumstances I’m most likely to spill out an I’m sorry.
Our multiple choice answers:
I feel I’m asking for too much
A desire to provide accountability and not shift blame, despite situations where it very well may be someone else’s fault
Discomfort
De-escalating
Resorting to shrinking myself when in stressful situations or when communicating with unpleasant people
Noticing attention has been put on me/I have talked more than I usually allow myself
Taking the temperature of the room due to an observed, unspoken shift in emotion
Similarly, a preemptive apology for an action I’m sure caused that shift
A fear of being rude or overstepping
Fear, in general
(*there is also puhh-lenty to be said if we add the lens of gender to this discussion, though for a pinch more on that, I recommend: Maja Jovanic and Lily Myers’s poem always knocks it out of the park.)
What’s even more frustrating is that I’ve started to notice I replace “I’m sorry” as a quick response or catch-all to other things I could say. Miscellaneous sorries! I’ve kept a running list and for me, “I’m sorry” has also meant:
Thank you so much for listening
I notice something out of my control disrupted the current moment or caused you an inconvenience
Though this is what I need, I know it’s not the outcome you wanted
I’m not used to talking this much about an interest, though I’d like to continue
I’m feeling indecisive
I need one more minute
Let me get this out of your way
I need to be quiet for a second
I’m feeling emotional or embarrassed
Could you repeat yourself/What did you say?
(Now, bear with me, but let’s review those definitions again. Seems like I’ve veered from Webster’s preferences.)
It also appears that (as seen above) there are plenty of alternative, concise ways to communicate what I’ve let “I’m sorry” carry.
I am afraid of offending. I’m afraid of disappointing. I’m afraid of overstaying my welcome, encroaching limits where I more comfortably, quietly exist. I’m afraid of not feeling accommodating or compassionate. I’m afraid of being misunderstood. I’m afraid that one bad misstep could cost me those I love. I’m afraid I’m afraid I’m afraid.
To combat these fears, I want to work in opposition to them. What, then, would be the polar enemy of fear? Bravery. Trust. Self-certainty. Qualities that better match my values and the life I’d like to lead.
Can I trust that those who love me and know my heart well enough will not assume the worst of me if I stop over-apologizing? Can I trust that they will not turn away from me given one un-pristine exchange? Can I trust myself enough in my character, my intentions, and the way I interact with the world, that I will not be a cannon on the loose overstepping, offending, or inconveniencing? Can I trust that when I do make a mistake that properly calls for one, I will offer a sincere apology?
I’m happy to say that while it feels like a big endeavor, I can very clearly see that not only is this switch completely possible, but I’m in a beautiful, supportive environment to do so.
I hit a pothole and the car bumps. My boyfriend lovingly matches my reflexive sorry with, “You’ve got three more apologies left for this weekend. Use them wisely.” And keeps me to it.
My best friend, Austyn, and I bite our tongues before brushing off a compliment and quickly swap in “thank you for noticing.” When we sit out on the floor and spend a night helping the other work through a thought or a problem we’re facing, we end with a relieved exhale, “Thank you so much for listening.”
I observe the way someone adds a little more weight, a little more heat to their statement, knowing my routine too well, expecting me to fold beneath it. I don’t nod, stumble, or walk my point back.
You might have to stop mid-sentence. You may flinch in braving the first few omissions, as if a step into cold water. You will not please everyone. You will not become terrible.
I’ll be swimming in the cold, too. I’ll see you out there.
Thanks for listening.
with love,
schuyler (sky-ler)
tip jar (venmo): schuylerpeck
If you’re interested in supporting my writing or reading more:
book link 1: The Ghosts’ Share of Rent (now available!!)
book link 2: You Look Like Hell
book link 3: To Hold Your Moss-Covered Heart
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i don't think i'll ever get one of these in my email and not end up crying!! you are so beautifully skilled with words. i hate that you struggle with this kind of taking up space too but i am so happy to see you're making more space for yourself. you deserve the absolute best <3