The Day I Stopped Apologizing for Existing

I used to say “sorry” for everything.

Sorry when someone bumped into me.

Sorry when I laughed too loud.

Sorry when I didn’t reply fast enough, when I cried in front of someone, when I asked for too much, when I needed something at all.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that being loved meant being small.

That to be accepted, I had to be easy. Quiet. Flexible.

A version of myself that fit neatly into other people’s lives, without ever disrupting theirs.

So I became that version.

I became the easy one. The strong one. The one who never needed too much.

And then one day… I disappeared completely.

It didn’t happen all at once.

It was in the way I stopped asking questions in conversations — afraid I’d come off too curious.

It was how I’d sit on the edge of chairs, like I didn’t deserve to take up space.

It was in the way I’d soften my voice — even when I was right — because confidence made people uncomfortable.

I was so focused on being liked, I forgot how to be whole.

One afternoon, I was walking down the street — headphones in, head low — when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a café window.

I didn’t recognize myself.

Not just in the physical sense, though the sadness in my shoulders was impossible to miss.

But in the energy I was carrying — like I was tiptoeing through the world, hoping not to be noticed, hoping not to be too much for it.

And in that moment, I asked myself a question that cracked me wide open:

“What would it feel like to take up space like I actually deserve to be here?”

I didn’t have the answer. But I knew I had to find out.

So I started unlearning.

I stopped apologizing when I wasn’t wrong.

I said “thank you” instead of “sorry” when someone held the door open.

I let my laughter be full and real, even if it echoed.

I let myself cry without shrinking.

I let myself want things — really want them — without guilt.

I wrote messages without over-explaining.

I wore clothes that made me feel radiant, not hidden.

I started saying no without offering a reason.

And slowly… I began to return to myself.

I want to tell you something I wish someone told me sooner:

You are not too loud.

You are not too emotional.

You are not “a lot.”

You are a human being who deserves to exist unapologetically, fully, joyfully.

You are allowed to take up space in every room you enter.

You are allowed to feel everything without watering it down.

You are allowed to be seen — not just tolerated, not just accepted — but celebrated.

The world doesn’t need more people pretending they’re okay just to make others comfortable.

It needs more people who are brave enough to come home to themselves.

So if you’ve been shrinking —

If you’ve been whispering when your heart wants to scream —

If you’ve been apologizing for simply being alive —

I hope this is the day you stop.

Take up space.

Take up joy.

Take up healing.

Take up room in your own life again.

Because your presence is not a burden.

It’s a gift — one the world has been lucky to receive all along.