Why We Apologise for Being Human: Understanding the Anxiety Behind the Automatic ‘Sorry’ (and Why We Say It So Much)
Understanding the Anxiety Behind the Automatic ‘Sorry
I thought for this blog we would start with a mini quiz...
How many times this week have you used the word “sorry”? 🤨
I’m not talking about the big, meaningful apologies you offer when you’ve genuinely messed up or hurt someone. I mean the tiny, automatic, knee-jerk words that tumble out of your mouth before your brain even has a chance to catch up.
Because here’s the thing (yes, I’m calling it a thing 🤭)—there’s a very specific kind of “sorry” that anyone who wrestles with anxiety or a finicky body knows all too well. It sounds a bit like this:
“Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Sorry, I’m being a bit quiet today.”
“Sorry, I just need a second.”
“Sorry, my heart is doing its own weird interpretive dance right now.”
It’s a strange little habit when you look at it closely. You can be standing perfectly still, just trying to navigate your day, and still feel this sudden, overwhelming urge to apologise for simply needing a bit of space. Most of us don’t even notice we’re doing it. It’s a reflex, which is why I thought it deserves a closer look.
For me, that line about the heart isn’t just an example. With my ongoing heart health, my body frequently decides to do its own thing, and the anxiety immediately follows suit. But the hardest part isn't always the physical symptoms—it’s the immediate wave of guilt that tags along.
It's not that anyone makes me feel this way. My family and friends are incredibly loving and supportive. But anxiety has a sneaky way of whispering that my health is somehow disrupting the day or causing them worry. So, out pops an automatic "sorry." It’s just my way of trying to smooth the edges of an unpredictable moment, a fast little shortcut for saying: “Thanks for riding this wave with me.”
To me, when we fall into this habit, it isn’t actually about manners, politeness, or being nice. It’s more like a quiet, protective instinct. A tiny, gentle pause where we instinctively try to smooth the path ahead, almost saying, “Please don’t mind me, I’m just figuring things out as I go.”
It’s a reflex that loves to show up when you’re anxious, overwhelmed, tired, or just dealing with a body that has its own unpredictable agenda. It’s the apology we give for needing a little extra time, clarity, or a moment to gather ourselves. We apologise for having a medical condition we didn’t ask for, or for being a bit slower and quieter than usual. Essentially, we are apologising for the absolute scandal of being a human being who can't run at 100% capacity every single day. Shocking, I know. 😉
So why? What triggers this automatic response? Well, I believe we do it for a handful of reasons.
Anxiety loves to whisper that just maybe, all of what makes us our unique self could be an inconvenience to the people around us, so we get that apology in nice and early just in case. Or, we use the word "sorry" as a shield because we're terrified of being misunderstood.
We worry that if we're quiet, people might think we’re being huffy or distant; if we need a moment, we worry we're making a fuss. But really, to us, it’s just our own little way of doing a quick, gentle check-in to say, “All good over here, I just need a second.”
For many of us, it’s also a people-pleasing muscle memory that has become complete second nature—it just happens without us even realising it. If you are like me, you probably learned early on that being "easy" keeps the peace and keeps the waters calm. And when you live with a chronic condition or anxiety, it’s amazing how incredibly easy it is to slip into the mindset that asking for a bit of understanding is a bit of a nuisance.
On the surface, these tiny apologies may seem harmless. But over time, they can chip away at us in sneaky ways. They subtly reinforce the idea that our needs are optional and that our presence is "too much." It’s nothing catastrophic, and it’s not going to ruin your life. But it is quietly exhausting. It's like carrying around a heavy bag of sand you never actually meant to pick up, and you certainly didn't realise you were packing it away in the first place.
The good news is, fixing this doesn’t mean you have to ban the word "sorry" from your vocabulary entirely. It's not feasible to think you can miraculously transform overnight into a bold, unapologetic warrior who never flinches (and frankly, those people are exhausting to be around anyway). It’s just about noticing the reflex and gently questioning it.
Something I’ve been trying to do lately is just flip the "sorry" on its head and turn it into a quick thank you instead. So, instead of letting myself blurt out, “Sorry I’m so out of it today,” I’ve been practicing saying, “Thanks for being so patient with me.” It does the job perfectly, and it means I don't have to feel like I've done something wrong.
I actually had a bit of an epiphany the other day when I realised I would never, in a million years, expect a friend to apologise for any of this. If a friend told me they were feeling a bit off, under the weather, or that they just needed a quiet minute to catch their breath, I wouldn’t think twice about it. I’d just want them to be okay. It made me realise how much harder I am on myself than I ever would be on anyone else.
Remember, needing a moment isn’t a failure. Needing rest isn’t indulgent, and needing a little grace from the world isn’t selfish. It’s just part of the human deal.
The goal here isn’t to stop apologising altogether. It’s just about saving those apologies for when they are actually true, rather than letting them be a nervous reaction.
You don’t have to become louder, tougher, or more assertive than feels natural to you. You don’t have to reinvent yourself or bulldoze your way through the world. You simply get to be here, exactly as you are, without constantly asking forgiveness for the space you occupy.
You get to be soft without shrinking. You get to be kind without erasing yourself.
I like to think of it like the plants in my garden. I have a special rose I planted in memory of my dad, and at first, I wasn't sure it was ever going to take. But now? Well, it doesn't look at the sunshine and shrink back, worrying that it’s taking up too much light or crowding the soil and the other flowers. It just turns toward the warmth and blooms because that’s exactly what it’s meant to do.
When I look at it now, I can't help but smile 😊. Allowing yourself to stop apologising is exactly like that—it's like stepping out of the shadows and letting yourself sit in the sun, simply because you belong there.
So the next time a mindless "sorry" tries to leap out of your mouth, try to pause, take a breath, and remember: you aren’t a burden. You’re just a person. And people don’t need a permit to exist.
• The Intricacies of Anxiety: Why Progress Isn’t Linear
• The Courage to Be Seen: Accepting Your Anxious Self Without Shame
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Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all.
