Sorry Sally

I am twenty-two years old, and I can only remember one time in my life when I was astronomically and irrevocably pissed at someone. Was it when I came home from Christmas-treeing my AP Economics exam to find out that my mom didn’t wait for me to put down my childhood dog? No, that was understandable. Or when I found out that one of my best friend's boyfriends cheated on her, resulting in me putting gum on his car while he watched? No (I’m sorry Braxton. It was warranted but a little dramatic). 

The only time I have been actually fucking mad at someone was at a complete stranger in some American History class. Wow, you’re thinking. What the fuck did this kid do? Kill your dog? No, actually, my mom did that (just kidding. Sorry, Mom.) Actually, Mr. Random Guy Wearing a Frat Shirt didn’t do anything that would warrant my best friends jumping him or police sirens outside Alpha Alpha Alpha. 

Mr. Frat Shirt told me I apologize too much. 

I can just hear what you’re thinking, and what my roommate is gonna think when she gets to this part of the article: You’re being a sissy. 

And you’re right, I was being a sissy. Because I am a sissy. And Mr. Frat Shirt has been the only person who has ever called me out on it. Until I decided to call myself out and write this little article to confront my grandiose flaw and to hopefully help other sissies like me. 

I met Mr. Random Guy in the back row of some random history class my sophomore year of college. We were forced to sit next to each other because there weren’t any other seats in the class. I think my chair must have hit his chair a few times, or maybe my pencil pouch touched his phone, but I must have been acting in some way to warrant a myriad of apologies. What I do remember is that I dropped my AirPods under his chair. Obviously, I said, “I’m so sorry,” and this fucking asshole looked me right in the eyes as I sat back up and said: 

“You apologize too much.” 

I was so mad that I was at a loss for words. I don’t remember the exact logistics of how I reacted because I’m pretty sure I blacked out from anger. But you know what I probably did? I probably apologized for apologizing.  

At the time, I thought I was mad at the whole situation because of “mansplaining.” But after two years of dealing with internships, friendship quarrels, and the ups and downs of romantic relationships, I have actually realized that I was not mad at the poor Alpha Alpha Alpha brother who was forced to sit next to me. 

I was mad at myself for using apologies as a crutch. Because if you make a mistake and apologize, the “victim” has to forgive you, right? And they have to like me… Right? 

A big part of my daily routine is making the people around me happy. Rebecca wants to go to Marston Library, but I want to study at the Education Library. I agree to go to Marston because I know it will make Rebecca happy. Kevin wants to go to Cane’s for lunch, but I want to go to Cava. I agree to go to Cane’s even though I’ve been hinting at going to Cava for a week. You know what I mean. 

Even more than breaking my back for other people, I now know that I apologize too much in my everyday life for things that I didn’t do or situations that are entirely out of my control. A big part of American culture is apologizing for other people’s shitty situations. The phrase “I’m sorry” now possesses a dual meaning in the English language: requesting penitence and expressing sympathy for another. 

“My dad cheated on my mom when I was in middle school.”

“I’m so sorry; that must have been awful.” 

What the fuck? This imaginary person didn’t cheat on the imaginary person’s mom. It was the imaginary receptionist. Okay, sorry, I’m getting carried away with examples. 

Obviously, we need to be empathetic. But when apologizing transcends sympathy and crosses the boundary of self-deprecation, that’s when things start getting a little convoluted. 

And for the sake of empathy, I personally tend to sweep things under the rug for the survival of the relationship. I find the good in others to move on with my day. Even if they don’t deserve my forgiveness or grace. 

But, when I do have a serious conversation about how someone treats me, I always find myself apologizing for how they feel, or the situation, or their trauma, or whatever fucking excuse to direct some of the blame on myself. I do this so that when it’s said and done, they won’t dislike me for criticizing them. 

But growing up is realizing these critical conversations (where you look someone in the eye and tell them they are genuinely wrong) are not being overly harsh. It’s self-respect. It’s boundaries. It’s the greatest form of self-love that you can provide for yourself. 

To sum up what I’m saying: 

People (me) use apologetics as a tool to make others like them more. 

This leads to ignoring your feelings. 

Which then leads to not respecting yourself. 

Which finally leads to insecurity because if you can’t be honest with the people around you, how can you be honest with yourself. 

I’m here, as a fellow sissy, to tell you to stop the internal hellcycle and to stop apologizing so much. 

And if my reasoning isn’t enough, I’m going to give you another secondary source. 

I’m going to relay a paragraph from my favorite self-help book, Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, that had my eyes bulging from their sockets: 

“The desire to avoid rejection at all costs, to avoid confrontation and conflict, the desire to attempt to accept everything equally and to make everything cohere and harmonize, is a deep and subtle form of entitlement. Entitled people, because they feel as though they deserve to feel great all the time, avoid rejecting anything because doing so might make them or someone else feel bad. And because they refuse to reject anything, they live a valueless, pleasure-driven, and self-absorbed life.” 

That is actually insane. But, Mark, you are so right. 

If we don’t reject or confront, we aren’t standing up for anything of legitimate value. And if you aren’t standing up for yourself, how can you expect yourself to be direct and honest with your friends or partner? How can you defend business decisions for yourself or coworkers when you can’t be okay with telling someone off every once in a while? And how can you support and rally behind a righteous yet controversial cause when you can’t even look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself: 

It’s okay to be pissed off. And it's okay to not be fucking sorry. 

Strike Out,

Writer: Allie Sinkovich

Editor: Olivia Hansen