I used to think I was being kind when I said sorry all the time. Sorry if I spoke too much in a meeting. Sorry if I took too long to reply to a message. Sorry if I needed help. But somewhere along the way, “sorry” became less about accountability and more like a reflex. A survival strategy. An apology for existing.
It took me a long time—and a lot of emotional burnout—to realize this wasn’t kindness. It was something else entirely.
And if you recognize yourself in that too, I want to say this upfront: over-apologizing doesn’t mean you’re weak. It usually means you’re tired. Tired of managing other people’s reactions. Tired of carrying invisible expectations. Tired of being misunderstood. Tired of feeling like too much and not enough at the same time.
Let’s talk about why we do this, what it costs us, and how we can gently start changing the script.
The “sorry” reflex isn’t always about guilt
If you’ve been in environments where conflict was dangerous or unpredictable, apologizing becomes your shield. It’s how you keep the peace, avoid tension, and stay in control of an uncontrollable moment.
I remember once being in a relationship where every disagreement turned into a storm. My default response? Say sorry—quickly and often. Not because I was wrong, but because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t.
We know from research that children who grow up in emotionally volatile homes often develop people-pleasing behaviors as a way to stay safe. One of the biggest ones? Apologizing constantly, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. That same pattern follows us into adulthood—into our jobs, our friendships, our marriages.
It’s not weakness. It’s emotional muscle memory.
Chronic apologizers often carry invisible emotional labor
People who say sorry too much are usually the same ones who anticipate everyone’s needs before their own. They’re scanning the room for discomfort, adjusting their tone, wording things softly so no one feels offended.
They’re the peacekeepers, the empathizers, the ones who stay up replaying a conversation in their heads wondering, “Did I come off too harsh?”
But emotional labor like that is draining. It’s the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up in your calendar or Fitbit, but it lives in your body just the same.
And eventually, it catches up. You start apologizing for things that don’t even make sense: for crying, for asking a question, for simply existing in a space that doesn’t know how to hold you.
Over-apologizing can quietly erode your sense of worth
Here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: the more I apologized for being me, the more I started to believe I was a problem to fix.
It’s subtle at first. You apologize when someone bumps into you. You say sorry before offering an opinion. You preface every request with “Sorry to bother you…”
And over time, it chips away at your self-respect. Like you need permission to take up space. Like your needs are an inconvenience.
In a 2021 Forbes.com article, the author stated that people who over-apologize tend to have lower self-esteem and heightened anxiety. And honestly? That makes sense. When “sorry” becomes your second language, you’re constantly reinforcing the message that your presence is disruptive.
And that’s a lie too many of us have believed for too long.
The role of perfectionism and shame
A lot of over-apologizing is rooted in perfectionism—the belief that if we can just do everything right, no one will get upset. No one will be disappointed. No one will leave.
But perfectionism doesn’t lead to peace. It leads to panic.
Dr. Brené Brown once said, “Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.” Over-apologizing is often a symptom of that shame. We’re not just apologizing for mistakes—we’re apologizing for who we think we are.
And that’s why breaking the habit isn’t about being more confident—it’s about healing the parts of us that still believe we’re too much or not enough.
When you’re emotionally exhausted, “sorry” becomes a shortcut
When you’re constantly juggling responsibilities, managing emotions (yours and everyone else’s), and trying not to fall apart—“sorry” becomes a shortcut.
It’s quicker than explaining. It soothes the tension, even temporarily. It makes you feel like you’ve done something to fix what feels broken.
But here’s the cost: You end up absorbing blame that isn’t yours. You dull your voice. You disappear a little more each time.
Sometimes, saying sorry is just a way to avoid asking for what we actually need: space, rest, support, understanding. And in the long run, that avoidance becomes self-abandonment.
A different approach: Replacing “sorry” with self-respect
I started replacing “sorry” with thank you. Instead of “Sorry I’m late,” I say, “Thanks for waiting.” Instead of “Sorry I’m emotional,” I say, “Thank you for listening while I figure this out.”
It felt awkward at first. Like trying on a coat that didn’t fit. But over time, it became a way of showing myself dignity. A way of reminding myself that I didn’t have to apologize for being human.
If you’re trying to unlearn this habit too, start with awareness. Notice when and why you say sorry. Is it guilt? Fear? Habit? Then ask yourself: Is an apology necessary—or am I just trying to keep the peace at my own expense?
What healing might look like
Healing isn’t about becoming someone who never says sorry. It’s about becoming someone who knows when they need to—and when they don’t.
It’s about trusting that you can make mistakes and still be lovable.
About honoring your needs without feeling guilty.
It’s about remembering that your presence isn’t something to apologize for.
And yes, it’s also about rest. Emotional exhaustion is real. Peacekeeping, perfectionism, people-pleasing—they wear you down. Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is pause. Breathe. And give yourself the grace you so freely offer everyone else.
As Dr. Seuss once said, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”
Maybe that’s the real shift: realizing that you don’t need to apologize for being too much, too sensitive, too emotional, too you. The right people will never need you to shrink just to keep their comfort intact.
And maybe you’re not weak at all. Maybe you’re just finally tired of carrying everything alone.
That’s not weakness. That’s humanity. And it’s okay to lay it down now.