You’re NOT Sorry

You see the door and there’s one person just a wee bit in your way. As you move to get around him, you mutter, “I’m sorry” in a voice that’s a half octave higher than your normal speaking voice. You get the door. You’re on your way.

But here’s the thing: You’re NOT sorry.

You’re not sorry that you had to get off the train/out the door/to the cucumbers in the produce section. You’re not.

You do not feel sorrow or regret as a result of your need.

You have not inextricably fucked with someone’s well-being on account of a spaghetti squash that was just out of your reach.

You’re not sorry.

So stop saying that you are.

Excuse me. Pardon. May I reach that ____ next to you? Would you hand me the ______?

All are super duper queries and statements.

When you club a fellow passenger on the train with your backpack during rush hour like a baby seal, you are sorry.

When you have rear-ended someone’s car, you are sorry (maybe).

When you have hurt someone’s feelings…you may or may NOT be sorry. It depends, as honesty isn’t something to apologize for in most instances.

But stop saying you’re sorry. And stop using the “I’m Catholic/Canadian/British/______” as an explanation of why you say “I’m sorry” with jaw-dropping frequency. When you do that, you’re playing the victim and saying, “Hey, I can’t help it — I was taught to do this and simply can’t change it, so I’m going to keep saying I’m sorry because naahananannabababababaaboooo.”

Excuses are assholes.

You’re not sorry.

Save your sorries for life’s potholes and multi-feeling collisions. Save them for the ones you love, not the ones you simply need to pass. Save them for the times where it takes a lot to say them.

As if it’s really that easy to say you’re sorry to everything and everything, how will we know you mean it…when a situation comes along where you damn well better?

You’re not sorry and most of what you do in a given day isn’t demanding of an apology.

Stop apologizing for being human and doing human things and get the fucking brussel sprouts from behind that woman’s cart, between the chives and cabbage without regret.

We could all do better rethinking what it means to truly be sorry and what actions in these lives of ours that require an apology.

You’re loved. You’re important. And most of the time, you’re not sorry. You have no reason to be.

Save it for the times when you truly are and have to dig deep to own that feeling — and what it costs you to admit your wrong and how it’s affected the soul standing before you.

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