We usually think of “I’m sorry” as something we say when we’ve caused harm.
But for many people, sorry becomes something woven into their identity — a baseline rather than a response.
When a child grows up without consistent emotional attunement, they learn to read the room instead of trusting their own internal world. They learn to shrink, to soften their presence, to stay small enough not to be a burden. In that environment, insecurity takes root, along with the belief that their impact must always be softened. Over time, that insecurity grows, eroding the capacity to show up unapologetically — to simply be who they are without fear.
From that insecurity, “I’m sorry” is born.
Not as an apology for something they did — but as a way to protect connection.
A way to avoid conflict.
A way to earn acceptance in spaces that never felt entirely safe.
Over-apologizing becomes a survival strategy:
If I stay small, maybe I won’t upset anyone.
If I stay agreeable, maybe I won’t be left.
If I stay apologetic, maybe I’ll be tolerated.
In trauma recovery, we begin to see this pattern clearly — not as weakness, but as evidence of how deeply you adapted to your early environment.
Healing doesn’t demand that you stop saying sorry.
It invites you to tend to the wound beneath it — the one that taught you your presence needed permission.
And slowly, gently, you learn something different:
You were never meant to shrink.
You were never a burden.
And you do not need to apologize for being here.