UnSorry

This probably won't be the most well thought out blog from me, but I'm attempting to keep this updated a little bit more.

Where do I even start. I mean...we all know how much I apologize. It's been a running joke for years. Just...not a very funny one after awhile. Sorry (I'm kidding, sorry). It's been weighing on my heart lately.

Somewhere in these 32 years of existence, it because easier to say sorry than to stand firm behind my words. The truth is that I rarely feel apologetic about what I'm saying. My convictions and opinions and laughter and love are not sorry. For me, sorry has become a way to test the waters instead of just diving right in. Sorry has become a wall that I'm desperately trying to tear down.

I could go into how certain circumstances and people and things have conditioned me in a way to think that I SHOULD be sorry, and often. Sorry for breathing wrong, or trying to hold a hand or sorry for complimenting in the wrong way. Sorry dinner wasn't good enough. Sorry I'm wearing the blue dress. Sorry I'm not enough. Sorry I'm never enough.

To do that would to allow myself to be a victim, and I refuse to play that part. No matter what shreds of my past have aided in these feelings, they are but tiny remnants on my flesh, and not permanent pieces of my inner most workings.

 I've worn sorry like a Halloween mask, with acceptable room for eye holes but barely enough room to breathe.

You know what, you should be sorry if you're an incredible asshole. If you spill your drink down a strangers shirt. If you run over someone's rose bush in your Toyota. If you poke someone in the eye with your finger while wildly gesturing. Be sorry. Be all the sorries. But don't be sorry for just existing.

I would like to say I'm sorry for spending so much time running after the wrong people, but I'm not, because all of that running has given me strong legs to climb mountains, quite literally. I'd like to say sorry for acting recklessly in the past, for giving pieces of my heart away to strangers but I'm not. In all of this, my compassion has grown tenfold and blossomed into a million bright flowers. I'd like to say sorry for being me, for loud laughter for terrible jokes for wild hair but to do so would only diminish who I've fought to become. And I don't feel sorry for being me.

I can't afford to be sorry anymore. It will break me.

Sorry has been the shitty elevator music on my ride to the top floor. It's almost caused me to get stop too early before I reached this amazing view.

I might still say it sometimes. I can't help it. But I might follow it up with "I'm not sorry" and turn around and flounce away and trip over my own feet.

But don't worry--you don't have to be sorry for laughing.

I love  you all.