Two little words.
To the average person, these words mean absolutely nothing other than someone admitting the understanding of their wrongs. And if this is what you believe, I feel complete and utter joy for your soul. That's really all there is to believe about these words and nothing more.
Over the past few years, I've been--abused, to say the least. Yes, all three forms. My life is full of fucked up surprises, I'm aware. I'm not going to sit here and tally up a list for you of what I did and didn't deserve, because although I'm sure it would benefit everyone (oh boy, sarcasm amirite?) I'd rather not get into it. I'll only disclose what I think is appropriate and what I feel suits for the time being. Case closed; I hope you understand.
Back to the words ''I'm sorry''.
I was about 14. My life at the time was nothing from the norm of many teenagers. An alcoholic dad who was full of toxicity, a sibling filled with the intent of hurting you every chance they get, a struggling mother trying to keep everything together as she left her own needs to make sure everyone was happy, and of course, me. Apologies were constant through this household of lovelies, as was yelling.
The outside of my body (other than my cutting scars) was nothing out of the ordinary. Just a girl keeping a low profile and trying to make new friends after her best friend let her. You wouldn't be able to tell anything was going on with her just by looking at her. Well--maybe. Most things during that time I've blocked out of my memory and would prefer to never remember.
At the time I had an over-protective boyfriend. To spare him from the shame of having his name on my blog, I'll use the name Cray. Cray was--not really a good guy. During the few months we were dating, Cray was overly protective of me. He would get upset if I didn't text him back within 5 minutes, he wanted my passwords to all of my social media accounts, and whenever I went out he would always want to know: where I was going, who I was going with, if I could text him, when I'd be back, etcetera.
Also, he never really seemed to want to talk about issues I was having with the relationship. It always seemed to anger him whenever I brought up the fact I was unhappy. Cray would end up verbally abusing me to the point where I began to cry, at which point he'd storm off afterward. He'd never talk to me until after I apologized for whatever it was I had to take the blame for at that time. Hence, my brain learned to say sorry over and over again, because that's what made things alright again.
To this day, I have an ample supply of self-doubt and always feel like I've done something wrong at times when I've done absolutely nothing at all. I find myself apologizing over and over again at random times, or if I get the slightest bit sad because I feel as though I'm putting others out and hopefully after I say sorry that everything will return to normal. Ah, a girl can dream.
Of course, nothing ever returns to normal and I continue to feel shame for things I never end up doing in the first place. It's been years, and Cray may be gone, but the apologies aren't. I can only hope that things will change in the future, God knows I've been trying.
I'm sorry......
I never meant to be so negative.
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