The Life of a Perpetual Apologiser

When I saw this hotel door hanger on the bedside table at the The Kimpton Fitzroy Hotel after a recent stay (ha! Casually written as if I pop over to a fancy hotel when the mood takes me, or have taken up residency like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman) I laughed, then thought… oh God. That’s me! It’s me! and quickly took a snap for revisiting at a later point.

I’m a serial apologiser. My friends will testify that I begin nearly all of my WhatsApps with ‘So sorry for the delay in replying…’. Emails are prefaced with a ‘Hey, sorry to bother you on this but… ‘ opener. A man joined my table in Pret last week at lunch while I was working, slammed his papers down on the table and knocked my sandwich over, spilling its contents on my notebook, without so much of a second glance. “Sorry!“, I said. “Let me move my laptop out of the way!“ as I started CLEANING UP.

Maybe it’s because I turned 40 last year, and feel a bit too old for this nonsense but I’ve started to feel the need to stop saying sorry so much. A few things recently have compelled me to fight back, reawakening the more assertive side of me (which is there, believe me, but doesn’t come out much as I hate upsetting people) so perhaps that’s it.

Or it might be because last year I read The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck and I’m still subconsciously trying to apply the NotSorry Method in real life.

Whatever it is, I’ve realised I’ve fallen into an over-apologising trap and it’s rather uncomfortable and I’d like to get out now please. So, I’m making a concerted effort from now on to drop unnecessary apologies. To only say sorry when it’s truly merited or when I’ve done something wrong, rather than be perpetually contrite. To give it a really good go. 

Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it. Hope I didn’t take up too much up of your time and sorry for… oh...