Over the past few years, I’ve had quite a lot of practice apologizing. My sister and children, ex-husband and former partner, even those acquaintances I unintentionally slighted all deserved to hear me take responsibility for where I was wrong and vow to be better. I made amends while working 12 steps and strained to not apologize during the process. The layers of guilt and shame I carried were thick and heavy, suffocating me so much that “I’m sorry” seemed to be the only words I could squeeze out. After my nation-wide apology tour, I felt some relief. I owned my garbage and started cleaning it up. But as time went on, I realized that the compulsive confessionals were stunting my growth.
So I did what any overthinking, sensitive soul in recovery does, I broke out the journal and started writing. I looked to language to give me the answer. Apologizing wasn’t giving me the confidence I needed, so what was I doing wrong? (Cue the shame spiral.) Pitiful pages scribbled with self-doubt stared back at me and I saw just how much I was still blaming myself for simply existing. There is power in mea culpa, but I am more than a walking admission of guilt. I had to stop apologizing for being human. Through this deep dive into intentions and responsibility, I’ve learned how to say a meaningful “I’m sorry.” More importantly, I’ve learned when to shut my mouth.
As a woman, I carry acquiescence deep in my bones. I was born with a pink apology around my neck. “Be a good little girl,” “play nice,” and of course, to excuse the wrongs of males everywhere…”boys will be boys” – the language I learned tied it tighter.
“I grew up in the nineties, whose media provided a diet of kind women in floral dresses, powerful men in shirts and ties, little girls with dolls and nail varnish, and little boys with footballs and dirty habits.”
Philippa Neville
But what does this have to do with recovery? A person in long term recovery must work to free themself of a negative self-concept. A woman in recovery must do so while the world tells her it’s still her fault. I learned to change the way I see myself, but that clarity only presented a new set of obstacles.
Self-sacrifice is the name of the game when you’re a woman, particularly a mother, and the conviction that I’m only as good as the amount I give up is dangerous. The premise to my addiction was that I needed to do and be more with less (smiling all the way). Super mom on no sleep, super thin with no food, compassionate teacher with no demands, and even seductive wife with no sex drive. It’s paradoxical, unhealthy, and unsustainable. But before I realized how impossible these standards were, I turned to substances to try and reach them.
Sobriety has taught me to care for myself in a way that is authentic to my needs. It takes a level of selfishness that contradicts the way the world teaches us to be female. A level of self-centeredness that is still difficult for me to practice. When I focus on myself, I feel as though I’m letting someone down, as if I’m wrong for choosing me. And what do we say when we do something wrong?
“I’m sorry.”
Apologizing became my new addiction. I was sorry for putting my family and friends through the torture of watching me slowly kill myself and I was sorry for taking the space and time to heal.
When I wasn’t directly apologizing, I was reducing myself through qualifying my words. Qualifying language includes words added to another word to limit (or intensify) its meaning. “Probably” is a go-to qualifier for me, along with “kind of” and “I think…” (For example – on a day I know I need time to unwind, I say “I should probably stay home. I’m kind of tired and I think I need a day to chill” rather than just saying “no thanks” to an invite.) When I spoke, I made myself small and uncertain by adding wishy-washy words to what I really wanted to say. In fact, this is why I prefer writing. I can edit out the meekness and make my point without the fear of coming across as too brash.
Digging deeper, I realized that more than anything, I was sorry for letting myself down. The solution became clear, I had to stop apologizing. I had to indemnify myself for the time spent feeling guilty and protect myself from the future damage of regret. “I’m sorry” would be reserved for if (and when) I hurt someone else, despite doing my best to avoid such instances.
This means no more starting my sentences with “I’m sorry, but…” and forget apologizing when I want to be heard. Amends have been made where they were due, and I refuse to live in a constant state of contrition. I am more than a ghost of all the women serving before me, I am their strength. I owe the world nothing more than my authentic self. To become her, I first had to stop depending on substances to change what’s inside. Now I must embrace my limitations and learn to love myself whether I excel or not. Through radical acceptance I can grow without feeling guilty. I can apologize and mean it wholeheartedly, then pull the knowledge of my mistake inward to receive as I move forward.
I will teach my daughter to love herself by not apologizing for who I am. If I can overcome the pressure to not be me, I am certainly strong enough to stop yielding to the illusion of what I think the world wants from a woman. It feels like a fresh start. A kind of rebirth – being born again into my own skin. I can’t say there hasn’t been an accidental apology that’s slipped out, because of course there has, but what has changed is where I’m coming from. I am no longer sorry for who I am.
For more info on how language genders us, check out the links below.
- Gendered language and children’s books – CIEP blog
- The Gendered Life of Five-Year Olds: How Language Perpetuates Gender Conformity in Children – Languaged Life (ucla.edu)
- The subtle ways language shapes us – BBC Culture