Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

The litany of apologies.

August 24, 2016

 

I did it first thing this morning, actually--in the first email of the day. A big fat apology for something that, really, didn't need one. You know what it was, though? What triggered the apology button? It's that what I had asked for created an inconvenience for this individual (and they didn't say that--this is just my interpretation, mind you, so a double-jeopardy of assumptions here). 

 

So, it's tricky. Should I apologize for an inconvenience, despite the fact that it was a justified one? I don't know. It's polite, and I always try to be polite. But I also don't want to keep giving myself away to the apology vampires, you know? Or maybe a better analogy would be Apology Dementors, right? These things that fly around, sucking the life out of you. Sneaky and scary. 

 

We do it **constantly.** So constantly, in fact, that "I'm sorry," means so little. It's hard to give a truly, heartfelt, heart-wrenching, justified apology these days. In so many ways, we need to take our language back--reclaim these habitual phrases that seem to excuse us and allow us to belittle ourselves, dissolving us a bit more each time we use them. 

 

We are not required to justify this life, to justify our insistence on being a whole person, an imperfect person, a person doing her best to follow what she loves, what moves her. This person may make mistakes, and apologies are nice for those. But everything else? That's your right. We're here to share this world--we aren't crashing a party already in progress. 

 

We are the party, baby. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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