Given that this blog is for the most part, sweary rants about life as a mum, as well as being about a fiancé whose snoring makes me consider our future, and whether I can fit a bed for him in the shed, you’ll probably find it hard to believe that I spend a lot of my time apologising. But the fact remains, I do.
To my daughter:
Sorry for shouting earlier darling, Mummy is very stressed today.
Sorry you ate fish fingers for tea 4 days straight because I couldn’t deal with the fall out of offering you something else.
Sorry I give you the iPad to shut you up sometimes.
To my fiancé:
Sorry I don’t have a job and therefore am not bringing much by way of fruition to the table babe.
Sorry my anxiety means sometimes I’m irrational and worry too much.
Sorry I have a chronic illness and it affects 99% of the plans I make with you and our friends.
Sorry I talk too much about said illness.
Sorry I’ve come off my antidepressants and you are having to deal with non SNRI infused, Steph.
Sorry I’m not skinnier.
Sorry I swear too much in front of the in laws.
To my followers and friends:
Sorry I bore you with toddler spam on your news feed and in our real life conversations.
Sorry my opinion isn’t favoured always by the masses.
Sorry I speak openly about mental health even though it makes people uncomfortable.
Sorry I didn’t enjoy being pregnant and I share my horror story with you.
Sorry I keep sharing boring blogs on the same old topics because they’re important to me.
Sorry I moan about being fat then eat McDonald’s twice in a row.
Can you see now? That’s a lot of ‘sorry’s’
When I apologise, I do it with sincerity, I mean it. But sometimes I wonder if I should be saying sorry at all. I seem to spend my life apologising for my very existence. Then I have a mental breakdown and apologise for not being normal enough. Is it a wonder mental health problems have hit an all time high.
The facts are these:
I’m not sorry I have anxiety, fibromyalgia and mental health issues, because these all bore from situations that have shaped me and made me a strong woman, and despite my insecurities, I am a strong woman.
I’m also not sorry I’ve stopped taking medication so I can decide whether or not even I like the ‘Real Steph.’
I’m not sorry for getting upset and being honest about why I am upset, because all ‘we‘ do is tell people to open up more, and then we shy away from listening, or criticise them for being ‘too honest‘ or for ‘airing their dirty linen.’ People commit suicide everyday because nobody listened. So when I’m airing my shit, I’m healing. Not sorry for that.
I’m not sorry I shouted at my toddler who threw her 3lb plastic dinosaur at my head because I wouldn’t let her have her third chocolate biscuit. Or that I gave in and let her have an hour on the iPad and a fish finger tea on the sofa because I needed a break.
I’m not really even sorry I don’t have a job, because I do have A job. I’m a mum, I’m managing an illness, I’m trying to study & follow a passion too. I’m not making any money at the moment, but I’m making a whole load of memories, and laying down foundations, ones that my daughter will hopefully later remember too. When and if we struggle financially, I will go and clean precinct toilets to put food on the table. So spare me the ‘get a job’ speech I only resigned last month.
I’m definitely not sorry I swear too much, because I actually Fucking. Love. Swearing. I find it such a useful tool to express myself. Fudge nugget in replace of Wanky Fucktard just doesn’t cut the mustard for me. It’s 2019 don’t tell me it’s not ladylike, or I’ll remind you that according to the Stone Age you seem to be from, nor is women going to work, or being able to vote.
If like me, you find you too are constantly apologising for being who you are, it’s time we stopped. We are not sorry, we’re brilliant and eccentric and in our own way, bring loads to the fucking table, shit, I lay the fucking table.
Can you make a pact with me that we agree to say sorry less, accept when it’s genuinely necessary.
That we agree to feel shit about ourselves less, and to focus on our strong points more. So much more!
Well can you? It’s not as easy as one would think to love yourself more. I have spent a lifetime loathing so many parts of me, that I now feel a bit cringe when I try and ‘sell myself’ I instead, wait for someone else to provide me with positive endorsements, as if it means more when someone else says it. But it doesn’t. Not really.
When you can say it yourself and mean it, when you can tell yourself you’re brilliant, that’s when it means the very most.
I’m not anywhere near that place yet, but I encourage us as a collective, to get there!! We can do this.
Share with your friends, let’s start an epidemic of #Not Sorry Divas 💝🙌🏻
Also published on SelfishMother Blogazine.