An overdue apology.

I spent a lot of my early and mid twenties apologizing.

I’m sorry I said that. I’m sorry I didn’t say this. I’m sorry if I came off wrong. I’m sorry if I didn’t come off right. I’m sorry that I drank too much. I’m sorry that I wasn’t “fun” and didn’t drink enough.

I’m sorry.

I don’t really know how this was learned, because in college, I really didn’t care about anything other than what I wanted.

I wasn’t sorry.

I was me (and, to be fair, probably should have been more sorry at times — like when I missed my own birthday dinner because I was at a bar—love you guys and RIP Wolf Den).

I could sit here and blame people and society for expecting a lot of me for the reason I became someone in my twenties who apologized when I got bumped into. Someone who apologized for breathing — for living.

Looking back, though, it seems the only person I have to thank for that is myself.

Because as I navigated adulthood — I put pressure on myself to reach heights I never would—heights that no one would.

Heights that no one could.

And as I failed, over and over and over again, to meet these unrealistic expectations put on myself, I became disappointed.

I became disappointed in myself.

And as I grew to know myself as someone utterly disappointing—someone who couldn’t seem to do anything right, reach her goals, or meet a GD expectation—I assumed that everyone else saw me that way too.

Disappointing.

And so, I started saying sorry.

I started saying sorry so that those around me knew that I knew that I was disappointing. That I knew that I wasn’t who they wanted me to be.

And the more I spoke it into existence, the more I believed it to be true.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be sorry.”

“You are sorry.”

For what?

Looking back, it’s all a little silly.

I’m sorry for expressing my thoughts. I’m sorry for not expressing my thoughts. I’m sorry for watching what I’m eating and being healthy. I’m sorry for being a bad influence and ordering fries. I’m sorry for reaching out to you too much. I’m sorry for not reaching out to you enough.

I’m sorry.

Now, I find ownership to be an important trait.

If I need to apologize, you bet your bottom dollar I will apologize.

If I need to say sorry—I will say sorry.

But I’m not saying it if I don’t need to anymore.

Because you know what? I’m not sorry for reaching out too much because I’m a good friend. I’m not sorry for taking time for myself and reaching out too little when I need some freaking time for myself. I’m not sorry for getting “too” drunk because I’m a good ass time. I’m not sorry for taking it easy because I have shit to get done the next day. I’m not sorry for moving because I wanted to. I’m not sorry for staying because I wasn’t ready. I’m not sorry for expressing how I feel. I’m not sorry for not expressing how I feel because I just wasn’t ready to do that yet.

I’m not sorry.

And you know why I’m not sorry?

Because I trust myself. For the first time, in a long time, I trust the shit out of myself. And I know, that while not all of the time, most of the time, I am doing the best I can with what I have and what I know, at least in that moment.

I’m not sorry, but I due owe an apology.

I owe an apology to myself—to me.

I owe an apology to Stasia: 23 years old. Big eyes. Full heart. (Can’t lose). Soul on fire with passion for her dreams. Mind and spirit insanely lost at times.

Working toward insane and unrealistic goals and expectations. Saying f it sometimes and brunching for 10 hours instead. Giving up on her dreams. Finding them again. Sabatoging herself. Getting back up. Losing herself. Being found again.

I apologize to me. Because you didn’t deserve the disappointment I instilled in you.

You were never a disappointment. You were a young twenty-something, doing the best you could with what you had and what you knew to be true.

And through all of the ups and the downs and the laughs and the cries and the numb and the pain and the failures and the triumphs and the hurt and the love —you grew into who you are today.

You learned.

You grew.

And that is all I could, or would, ever ask of you.

Then, now, and always.