The (91) I’m Sorry’s
Almost two years ago I was in a film about sexuality, mental illness and an all around awareness towards this. The director of the film eventually became a friend of mine after many incidents of me shutting her out (don’t ask why). She seemed to somehow get under my skin in the oddest ways but I’m also pretty easy to make uncomfortable at times. Nonetheless, almost every time we spoke, our conversations almost always ended with her saying that I reminded her of herself when she was a young lady — The way that I wanted to live life to the fullest yet was too scared to do so at times. The way that I’d appear in odd outfits or engulfed in quirky interests but got easily shut down by the simplest remark. That was when she had the bold audacity to point out my flaws (kindly) and the one that stuck with me the most was my I’m sorry’s.
Part of her job for the documentary, one of the biggest parts of the job, was to get to know an individual from underneath their skin deep into their core. It was her thing and still seems to be even though we haven’t spoken in awhile. She continued to tell me after a short time of knowing me that I say I’m sorry more then anyone she has met. It made her feel sad for me which then made me feel sad for myself and yet, I was intrigued. She asked me why I do so and I didn’t have an answer. She asked me if I could find it in me to stop and again, I didn’t have an answer. She then gave me the small project of writing down, for one day, every single time I say that I am sorry. And so I did.
24 hours later, not even having spoken to that many people and sitting there in the notepad was 91 I’m sorry’s. 91. Sometimes once an hour, sometimes 4 times every 10 minutes. And after I was done with it, the simple thought dawned on me which was…why? Why did I do this? What do I accomplish by saying it? What does it make me feel? And what am I sorry for? It has been a couple of years since I did this and I still catch myself saying it, sometimes to certain people more then others; maybe subconsciously they intimidate me or remind me of a threatening event or parental figure from my childhood.
To say, “I’m sorry” is almost a daily occurrence in my life continually, because it tends to come wrapped in a giftbox of guilt. But at the end of the day, it seems like the main root of it is as severe as if I’m even sorry for being alive. Shame. Like being naked in front of the world. Religiously saying “I’m sorry” has lost it’s meaning and has panned into into being not a word, but a statement towards myself it seems like. Do you say, “I’m sorry” too much? Would you ever question yourself in those moments, asking why you do? Is it really needed in that moment? Or is the person you’re truly sorry towards…yourself?
