Perfectionism owes you an apology
What’s your relationship to apologies?
Over the years I’ve worked to address my apology habits. There have been many times where my perfectionism and self-righteousness kept me from issuing a needed and deserved apology. There have been times I’ve apologized for things that are silly to apologize for. Have you ever been bumped into by another person and apologized to them for being in their way?
I’ve learned to say things like, “thanks for your patience” or “thanks for catching that error” instead of “I’m so sorry.” I’ve learned to apologize when my behavior hurts someone even when my intentions are good.
But apologies go beyond words. How often does my perfectionism show up as an apology? How often do I quiet my voice, shrink my presence, and stifle my needs? These are unspoken apologies. Even when the words aren’t present, the actions communicate loud and clear.
I know what it’s like to be in the presence of another person’s unneeded apology. It’s cringe-worthy. It’s uncomfortable. When someone’s behavior offers an apology for their existence, it’s heartbreaking to be around.
Apologizing for our being, for our lack of perfection, gives a false sense of safety. When you’ve been told you’re “too needy,” “too emotional,” “too loud,” “arrogant,” “bitchy,” or have been labeled in a way that uses your identity, body, or behavior against you, it’s understandable to feel like you need to shrink into the background.
Just know that these labels are used as strategic weapons. It’s not you that’s a problem.
Many of us have been socialized to apologize for our existence to uphold systems of oppression. If our voices get too loud, it shakes a foundation built on uneven distribution of power. If our behavior becomes too free, we might get some creative ideas that threaten the status quo.
Our apologies uphold systems that say “you only get to be proud of who you are if you come in a perfect, specific, and rigid package that people in power dictate.”
Along with questioning perfectionism, I gently urge you to notice your apologies and whether they are warranted.
When I’m in the presence of unapologetically unique, full, creative, and present humans, it helps me tap into that energy myself. It’s permission-giving. It’s nourishing. It fills a space with possibility and opportunity.
What about you?
How do you relate to apologies? Do you feel embarrassed for your perceived imperfections? Do you offer mindless “I’m sorry’s” for very human and normal behavior? Do you apologize for your desires? Do you apologize for your needs by not asking for them? Do you apologize for the way your body and your unique expression shows up?
How does this show up with the way you see other people? Do you judge and label? How often do you expect others to assimilate into your expectations of them? Notice if your harsh criticisms come from self-protection and fear.
I encourage you to imagine what it would feel like to move through the world imperfectly, unapologetic for your presence, for your energy, for your words, for YOU. I encourage you to dream about what becomes possible when you release your grip on the perfect version of who you think you’re supposed to be and step into who you really are. I encourage you to enveision what become possible when you celebrate the same freedom in others.
Notice your desire to apologize. Discern whether your apology is warranted. Shift your behavior to align with who you are and what matters to you. Integrate your new way of being to change the world.
—
This piece first appeared in my newsletter and was inspired by The Body Is Not An Apology by Sonya Renee Taylor and her incredible and vast body of work. I highly recommend grabbing a copy of her book and exploring her site TheBodyIsNotAnApology.com for more ways into radical self-love.
