I’m sorry I apologized
Some of us apologize as a reflex. This is not a good thing. At all.
In my online workshops, we share a lot about our lives. One day, my student, Anna*, shared about the difficulties she experienced — the torment and sexual harassment that changed her path in life. As she’s telling the story, things get emotional. The other people in the group are listening, leaning forward, nodding, offering support and understanding. Then they lean back from the screen just a little, attempting to get distance from the pain. Everyone loves Anna, and hearing what she went through is brutal. We want to hug her, put a reassuring hand on her back. But all we can do is look into our Zoom screen and hope she feels that we are here with her.
Then, in a reaction that looks more like a gag reflex than a choice, Anna apologizes for sharing. It just spews out of her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, that was a total overshare, and I talked for too long. I’m sorry I was rambling.”
Her eyes well up as she says it and she lowers her gaze, focusing on the cuticle she is picking at. I can feel the shame burning at her cheeks.
I’m sorry.
Some of us apologize as a reflex. We say we are sorry for: talking too much, not talking enough, sharing our thoughts, the way someone else might have interpreted us. We apologize when someone else bumps into us, we say we are sorry when we kick the table leg. We apologize for our mere existence in the world. It comes from a place of not wanting to take too much of someone’s time or energy, not wanting to seem insensitive or hurt others. As much as I respect the intention, the root of it is ingrained in a self-depreciating insecurity. We cower, we show our bellies, flipping over to show we are submissive and fundamentally, at a core level, just plain wrong. We think if we take this position then we won’t be a threat, that everything can simply move forward. No conflict, no burden. We’re sorry.
This has happened repeatedly with every group member. Including myself. I am just as guilty of over-apologizing. I like to blame this on the fact that I am Canadian, but I can only hide behind that - and my deep love of a maple dip donut - for so long.
When Anna apologizes, other people in the group chime in and unmute with “Hey! No apologies!! We don’t need to do that here. You weren’t rambling at all.” Anna says sorry for apologizing and we move on.
It occurs to me that this is not working. We are shaming the apologizer without offering a new habit to replace the old one. We are not changing the framework of our mental habit.
The replacement habit is an important part of this whole equation. This is the basis of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) - the idea that we have learned patterns of unhelpful behavior which are deeply engrained. We need to identify and shift the behaviors that are detrimental. The good news is that we can learn better, more effective ways of coping, but there has to be a replacement for the old method. We need something beneficial to do instead.
But I have an idea for our new apologizing pedagogy and bring it to the group.
“Here's my suggestion,” I announce. “Next time someone says they are sorry, we stop. We consider whether we have actually caused harm, like, did you kick Valerie? Did you call Mickey a dirtbag? If yes, say you are sorry again. If the apology isn’t legitimate - the group doesn’t continue until the sorry person has turned it around to a reframe of gratitude.”
They look skeptical.
I get nervous when they look skeptical.
But they stick with me because they are good like that and we come up with some other ways we can substitute our over-used apologies:
“Sorry I’m rambling” —> Thank you for letting me talk even when my thoughts might not be fully formed.
“Sorry I’m a disappointment” —> Thank you for sticking with me while I work through this.
“Sorry I’m a such a mess” —> Thank you for spending time with me.
“Sorry I took up so much time” —> Thank you for listening
“Sorry I’m so quiet” —> Thank you for understanding that I wasn’t ready to talk
“Sorry I’m annoying” —> Thank you for the support when I am feeling anxious
“Sorry I’m so clingy” —> Thank you for making me feel safe
We discuss how we can reframe our knee-jerk reaction to vulnerability — and go to gratitude instead. This is a significant strategy change. Because some of us have been taught since we were kids that it wasn’t okay to need things. Many of us got the message that any time we are not doing something for someone else, it was selfish. (That’s incorrect, btw.)
What if we can remove the shame of having needs, and replace that with gratitude for being able to express them? Could we rewire the impulse to feel like we are a burden on the world? We allow others to have needs. So why are the rules different for us? Are we fundamentally awful and so we have to play with entirely different criteria? Maybe we can acknowledge the fact that we are worthy of basic decency and at the same time, we can express thanks to those who support us.
“Okay, I get the gratitude thing, but it just kind of feels like overused hippie hippie garbage.”
Bridget is my cynic in this group. My rebel. My “yeah, but what about..?” person. The not-afraid-to-push-back person. She keeps me honest. If I can work my way through her questions, doubts, and challenges, I know I might be on to something.
Fundamentally, I agree that gratitude can feel trite in its desperation to be profound. But it still works. Gratitude isn’t something that belongs confined to a notebook with flowers and gold lettering on the front. It’s not #Blessed. It’s a powerful way to reframe and rewire what’s been set for so long.
“I get that.” I say. “Let’s just think about it. Let’s try it on and see what happens.”
The next week, Bridget wants to share something. She had been feeling really stressed and asked to have a video chat with her boyfriend, Charlie. “Five minutes,” she said. "I just need five minutes.”
Bridget said she turned into a big sobbing mess with him, and five minutes turned into forty-five minutes, while she talked about work stress, her total exhaustion, her worries about her mother’s health. When they were done talking, she felt much better — until she was overcome with the need to apologize. She was so sorry to take up so much of Charlie’s time, she was sorry that she tends to go “full on Eeyore” flinging her emotions all over everyone.
Bridget knew the response that would elicit from Charlie, because they have done that dance many, many times. He would say, no, hey, look, it’s okay, I’m always happy to talk to you, and it would create this environment where her apology meant that he needed to coddle and reassure her. Instead, she paused pre-apology and said this instead:
“Thank you so much for taking the time to listen, I know that took longer than expected. It was important to me and really meaningful that you did that. I know you were busy doing laundry and watching the basketball game and I’m grateful you gave me so much of your undivided attention.”
Well, damn. If that didn’t change the entire tone of the conversation. She made him feel valued and she didn’t flagellate herself for needing something.
“It was so simple. I felt so good saying that. I could tell he felt good hearing it.”
Even though her impulse was to apologize, she actually wanted to acknowledge the quality time. Bridget didn’t change anything about her life situation - her work didn’t get less stressful, her mom didn’t get well - but she changed the conversation from insecure and sheepish, to grateful, generous, and kind.
And that changed everything.
___
*All names have been changed to protect anonymity
Want more?
Writing Prompts: to Stop Apologizing
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