sorry forever

I’ve said I was sorry ever since I can remember.

I’ve used the word where most people say "excuse me", "pardon me", "unfortunately" . . or also where people might say, “please understand”, “this is how I feel”, “that hurts”, “are you listening?”

I’ve used sorry like a blanket of protection to ensure I never cause a scene. I never make someone else feel as bad as I feel, just existing. Taking up space that might be for someone else.

Sorry has been my closest friend, helping me shield myself from feeling like I have done too much or gone too far.

It has preemptively removed the pain I don't want to cause.

It was the hope that they wouldn't yell like she did. And now she often says, "why do you say sorry so much?".

And it clarifies that she didn't realize all she was doing, she was just trying, yet failing. But, I feared this truth for so long-- that she caused my habits of apologies. Which was ironic because my mother was the person I feared the most as a child. She would give love so easily and more quickly take it away. So I learned how to navigate by always being sorry.

I had resisted talking about this for so long in therapy because I didn't want to admit this or blame her. I wanted to strengthen our relationship, not further draw the lines that caused the cracks that made our foundation weak.

It has made me feel both small and invisible, a feeling that feels quite like my skin, a sheath that feels custom.

I wish it wasn't like this, that apologies are the only way I can communicate to others; replacing small asks for help or support.

I've always wanted to feel seen, but somehow when I do or when someone does, I feel as if I am lying. As if all the good they see in me is false and fabricated, like a resume, slightly exaggerated.

So instead of telling my truths, my questions and explaining all the feelings-- I apologize.

I say sorry where I should speak something of substance. I say sorry because I was taught to without even knowing it. I say sorry because I still don't know what it feels like to just be.

My therapist recently asked me, "I want you to start counting how often you say sorry", and I replied, "the limit does not exist".

She chuckled and I smiled back at her knowing it was true. I would say sorry until I learned not to.