The Day I Stopped Apologizing for My Anxiety

It happened after another draining day at work, a day tangled in nervous energy. I kept hearing myself say, “Sorry I’m so anxious,” and “Sorry if I’m a bother.” My cheeks were hot with embarrassment every time a flush of panic crept in. That afternoon, after excusing my shivers and silence for what felt like the tenth time, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My eyes looked tired, old even, weighed down by invisible baggage. At that moment, I felt a swell of anger and stubborn hope rise—the realization that I deserved more than a cycle of apologies for simply being me.

Why Anxiety Made Me Constantly Say I'm Sorry

Photo by RDNE Stock project

For me, anxiety was a silent puppeteer, pulling the strings of my daily interactions. I learned to keep the peace, to smooth over my own discomfort and the unease I imagined I created for others. According to mental health experts, chronic apologizing is a safety behavior—a way to chase away the fear of judgment or rejection, even if it’s just for a moment.

It’s not just me. Many people with anxiety say sorry when nothing is actually wrong, just to fill awkward silences or make sure others aren’t upset. Over time, it becomes part of who we are, shaping our words and the way we move through the world. Women, especially, get taught early to be agreeable, not to make waves, to be “nice girls” who fix things with a quick apology.

Growing Up Apologetic

I grew up in a house where emotions ran high, but showing them was risky. If I got sad or tense, the air in the room would tighten. It was safer to apologize, to shrink my feelings down to something manageable for others—like tucking a loud, wild animal into a small box.

In school, I noticed teachers and other kids liked me more when I apologized for speaking up or asking too many questions. At home, a sigh or eye roll from an adult meant my worries were inconvenient. I learned to say, “Sorry for being like this,” before anyone could roll their eyes for me.

The Weight of Invisibility: Feeling Like a Burden

Each apology felt like a ticket to invisibility. At first, it brought a quick breath of relief—a belief I could keep people close by not demanding too much. But soon, I started to question my right to take up space at all.

Over-apologizing chipped away at my self-esteem. No matter what anyone said, I worried that my struggles were too heavy for those around me. I began saying sorry for feeling, for existing, for simply being human. That habit became a cage, holding both my anxiety and my voice.

The Day I Stopped: Relearning How to Speak and Feel

Change didn’t strike like lightning. There was no single moment, but a slow build of exhaustion and stubborn clarity. The day I stopped apologizing began with a simple act: I sat down after work, pulled out my phone, and wrote, “I’m tired of saying sorry for who I am.”

That night, I looked up stories of others who stopped apologizing, and I found strategies that didn’t involve trying to please or fix everyone else first. I started practicing new ways to speak and think.

Reframing My Words: From 'Sorry' to 'Thank You'

The shift started with words. Instead of, “Sorry I’m late,” I tried, “Thank you for waiting.” When I caught myself about to apologize for my anxiety, I paused. It felt awkward at first, like learning to walk with a limp, but over time the words grew natural.

This simple change softened my relationships. Gratitude, it turns out, is less about shrinking and more about connecting. By thanking people for their patience or support, I felt more empowered and less like a burden.

* "Sorry for venting" became "Thank you for listening."

* "Sorry I need a minute" turned into "Thank you for understanding."

* "Sorry I'm anxious" shifted to "I'm feeling anxious right now."

Learning to Sit With Uncomfortable Feelings

Letting go of automatic apologies also meant facing my discomfort head-on. I started noticing what triggered my urge to say sorry—awkward pauses, someone’s frown, my racing thoughts. Instead of trying to patch things up, I let those feelings hover for a bit.

Mindfulness taught me to name my anxiety without shaming it. Sometimes, I’d silently repeat, “It’s okay to feel this.” On really tough days, I breathed deeply and remembered that my feelings couldn’t hurt me or anyone else just by existing.

Building Boundaries and Self-Acceptance

Over time, I began to trust that I wasn’t “too much.” I said no to requests that drained me, and owned my needs without apology. It wasn’t about being rude or careless; it was about learning I didn’t have to make myself smaller for others to feel comfortable.

Building boundaries was scary at first. There were moments when people seemed surprised or even upset. But the more I valued my experience, the more respect and real connection I found—with others and with myself.

Some things that helped:

* Practicing saying “I can’t right now” without explanation.

* Reminding myself that other people’s feelings aren’t always my responsibility.

* Surrounding myself with people who valued honesty over perfection.

* Journaling about moments when I resisted the urge to apologize.

Conclusion

Now, living without constant apology feels lighter. I am still learning, but each day I speak with more honesty and less shame. I have found that letting go of sorrys makes room for real understanding, both in myself and in those around me.

If you’re tired of apologizing for your anxiety or emotions, know that you’re not alone. Saying sorry for existing is not your job. You have every right to speak, feel, and take up space. Let your anxiety breathe, let your voice be heard, and give yourself permission to live without apology.