How I'm Using #SorryNotSorry to Challenge My Constant Need to Apologize

I recently came to a realization: I have spent far too much of my life feeling like I’m in the way or as though I am a bother to everyone. This isn’t something new for me. My anxiety has convinced me of this over and over again, to the point where at some point down the line, I just accepted it as who I am. But it’s time to admit I have a problem.

My name is Erika, and I am a serial apologizer.

For example, many empaths have a strong startle response, and I’m definitely one of them. (And by empath, I mean someone who is highly sensitive and empathetic, rather than the paranormal kind. I’m not discounting their existence as a possibility, there’s just nothing paranormal about me.) Just last week, I opened the door to go into my apartment building and someone was on their way out. It startled me. I jumped a little and gasped, and before I knew it, “Sorry!” had already escaped my lips. Yes, I apologized because I was startled. Wasn’t the first time, probably won’t be the last.

If I almost run into someone at the store? Apology. If someone almost runs into me at the store? Apology. If I think I’ve caused any kind of upset or annoyance? Apology. If I think you’re mad at me, even if there’s no reason for you to be? Apology. If I step on my dog because she’s walking underneath me? Apology. If I think I’ve made an assumption or too bold a claim? Apology. For crying out loud, I’ve been known to apologize for sneezing. “Sorry” might be the word I use the most in everyday life.

It’s not all about saying sorry, though. It comes in many forms. Backpedaling from a confident-sounding statement because now I’m suddenly unsure how true it is or whether I’m putting words in someone else’s mouth. Backing down from an argument because I never meant to upset anyone in the first place. Keeping quiet when my opinion is discounted because I just don’t want to rock the boat.

I used to write a lot of it off as politeness (after all, I am just trying to make everyone happy and be the least inconvenient I possibly can be!), but the unfortunate truth is it more often comes from a place of deep-rooted insecurity and self-esteem issues. My ex was the first to point out to me that when I pass someone in an aisle at the grocery store, I don’t just say “excuse me” (which, by the way, there’s nothing wrong with), but I also drop my head, physically lowering myself as if my presence is what I’m excusing (which, by the way, there definitely is something wrong with). So that’s fun! (Where is the sarcasm font when I need it?)

It comes down to this: I shouldn’t be apologizing for being … well, me. And the rational part of me is well aware of that. But a lifetime of anxiety, depression and low self-image takes its toll; when your internal narrative has been negatively focused for so long, you can’t just change it at will. It’s not like some switch you flip from “pessimistic self-loathing,” to “confident self-assuredness.” It takes time and effort. It takes practice. It takes strength. And it is a challenge.

So, here I am, challenging myself. I’m calling this my #SorryNotSorry challenge. For the next week, I am going to focus on identifying those times I’m being unnecessarily apologetic or insecure, and I’m going to try to ask myself if I’m truly sorry, or if that was a knee-jerk reaction from a lifetime of conditioning. I’m betting that a lot of the time, it’s the latter. Thus sorry, not sorry.

This week, I’m going to really try (key word, folks — try) to be unapologetically me. And it might be a lot for some people to handle. I am goofy. I am passionate. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I find humor and happiness in strange things. I love to share with people. I am nerdy. I am sweet. I am fierce. I am cute. I am fun. I love to be lazy. I have strength even I didn’t know I had. I am “weird” by some’s standards and too “normal” by others’. I am easily excited. I care deeply. And I love even more deeply.

Basically, I’m pretty awesome. And for this week, I’m not going to be sorry for any of it. Starting … now.