Stephanie Staples with a little tip to help you keep emotionally well in turbulent times.
Now, I don’t know if it’s just me because I’m Canadian but sometimes I apologize a lot, often for things that aren’t really my fault. I’m sorry walked into the chair or something like that and I’m here to just say maybe there’s another way around it and maybe we need to quit apologizing for everything. Maybe we could just own who we are and what we got.
So I wrote a little something that I’m going to share, maybe it’ll resonate with you. It’s called I apologize.
I apologize. I’m sorry if I forgot your birthday or anniversary.
If I picked you up late or too early for the show. I apologize if I offended you in some way, either unintentionally or maybe if I was having a bad day.I was intentionally mean.
I apologize if you didn’t feel included. If you were secluded and I didn’t open my arms to you, I apologize.
Whether you’re a friend or a stranger, whether you’ve been in my life a little or a lot, if you felt I hurt you in any way, forgive me here that true and sincere, but forgive me not, because I don’t apologize, I won’t apologize for being me.
Human flawed, imperfect. I tried to conform, but it wasn’t worth it. I make no more apologies for my sensitive nature, for crying at O Canada or not reading the newspaper.
I hear the news everywhere. I don’t need to stare at the crumbling buildings. The people dying, the guns blasting. I know it’s happening. I make no apologies because it hurts too much, so I just do what I can for my fellow man here, right where I stand.
In little ways that might not seem to mean much, but I do it anyway because I can, because I care and I won’t apologize for the age that I am. It’s mine to own the color of my skin the size of my grin.
I won’t apologize for being an extrovert. It’s who I am. I make no apologies for my looks, for my Italian nose, my extra long toes. They are in fact the only long and slender part of me.
Where are your legs? My friend asked as she’s walking up the stairs behind me, I laughed, but it hurt. I make no more apologies for what God gave me, my stature, my nature, my eccentric behavior.
I do apologize if I wronged you. Hear that true and sincere, but my dear, I make no apologies for the way that I sneeze, my wrinkles or knees, and especially for my sometimes excessive, overly positive outlook that may annoy you, but I can’t destroy you when I come from a place of love and hope and good intention.
So if I forgot to mention, I make no apologies for who I am, failed, flawed, and hopelessly human.
What will you not apologize for?
Not apologizing, it’s one more way to stay emotionally well.