Benjamin Disraeli
I had a conversation last night that I’ve been second-guessing; wondering if I should have said all that I did or at least wishing that I’d said things differently. But here’s the thing: I said what I felt. Why is it now, in the light of the morning (and even the dark of last night) that I wish I could take back what I said? It’s not because I doubt my feelings – or their truth. It’s because I’m afraid they are too much for someone else to handle; that I should have parsed them out a bit more or expressed them in a less-intense way. And, because I want everything to be OK – no one uncomfortable or uncertain or unclear – I feel the need to apologize.
This has got to stop!
Is this unique to women only? Just me? What are the internal censors and editors that tell us to not show our feelings – or at least to not trust them? Where the h*** do they come from? And why do we listen to them?
Certainly, there is always room for appropriate apologizing – especially and importantly in contexts of hurting another, saying things that were intentionally sarcastic or cruel, doing anything that could be experienced as harmful. But that’s not what I’m talking about. What I’m talking about is within the normal course of conversation; speaking my mind, expressing my heart. But what then? What is the emotion that results? FEAR. I am afraid. So what do I do next? I apologize.
This has got to stop.>br>
And Cheri Huber has said, “Every time we choose safety, we reinforce fear.”
This has got to stop.
This morning, despite my fear, I don’t want to apologize for my feelings…or my speaking of them. They are not too much – nor am I. They are true. They are mine. No apologies.
I wonder what would happen if each and every day we paid attention to the places where we apologize…and then ask ourselves, “What feeling do I have and why do I not value it enough to let it be seen, spoken, and true?” “What am I afraid of?” What if, even once a day, we let our feelings be heard – no apologies?
Risky? Perhaps.
Scary? Of course.
Apologies? No more.
Red Auerbach


