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I’m Canadian, so apologizing is basically my first language.
I apologize when someone bumps into me. I whisper "sorry” when I happen to be walking through the door of my office building as the same time as another person.
And as a therapist who works with women, where the whole point is helping women speak up, take up space, and stop shrinking themselves into something more “convenient”...this has not been lost on me.
Because here’s the thing: a lot of the women I work with aren’t just saying “sorry” when they’ve made a mistake. They’re apologizing for having needs. For having preferences. For taking up time. For existing in a way that might, even slightly, ripple someone else’s comfort.
“Sorry, is it okay if I share something?”
“Sorry, this might be dumb, but…”
“Sorry, I just need a minute.”
I get it. My inner Canadian is right there feeling the urge to: Soften it. Make it easier. Don’t be too much.
But here’s what I’ve come to see—both in my own life and in the work I do:
Over-apologizing isn’t kindness. It’s self-erasure in polite clothing.
It sounds warm. It sounds considerate. But underneath, it often carries a quiet message: My needs are less important. My voice is optional. Your comfort comes first.
In She Thrives, we practice something that can feel wildly uncomfortable at first: saying things without apologizing for them.
“I need a bit more time to think about that.”
“I’m not available for that.”
“I actually see it differently.”
No “sorry” buffer. No verbal cushioning designed to make the other person more comfortable at your expense.
You can be kind and clear.
You can be warm and boundaried.
You can be Canadian… and still not apologize for everything.
It's not about becoming louder or more forceful. It’s about becoming more honest. More direct. More self-honouring.
And sometimes, that starts with catching a “sorry” mid-sentence… and letting it go.
(Although, for the record, I will probably still apologize to the occasional piece of furniture that stub my toe on. Growth, not perfection.
I apologize when someone bumps into me. I whisper "sorry” when I happen to be walking through the door of my office building as the same time as another person.
And as a therapist who works with women, where the whole point is helping women speak up, take up space, and stop shrinking themselves into something more “convenient”...this has not been lost on me.
Because here’s the thing: a lot of the women I work with aren’t just saying “sorry” when they’ve made a mistake. They’re apologizing for having needs. For having preferences. For taking up time. For existing in a way that might, even slightly, ripple someone else’s comfort.
“Sorry, is it okay if I share something?”
“Sorry, this might be dumb, but…”
“Sorry, I just need a minute.”
I get it. My inner Canadian is right there feeling the urge to: Soften it. Make it easier. Don’t be too much.
But here’s what I’ve come to see—both in my own life and in the work I do:
Over-apologizing isn’t kindness. It’s self-erasure in polite clothing.
It sounds warm. It sounds considerate. But underneath, it often carries a quiet message: My needs are less important. My voice is optional. Your comfort comes first.
In She Thrives, we practice something that can feel wildly uncomfortable at first: saying things without apologizing for them.
“I need a bit more time to think about that.”
“I’m not available for that.”
“I actually see it differently.”
No “sorry” buffer. No verbal cushioning designed to make the other person more comfortable at your expense.
You can be kind and clear.
You can be warm and boundaried.
You can be Canadian… and still not apologize for everything.
It's not about becoming louder or more forceful. It’s about becoming more honest. More direct. More self-honouring.
And sometimes, that starts with catching a “sorry” mid-sentence… and letting it go.
(Although, for the record, I will probably still apologize to the occasional piece of furniture that stub my toe on. Growth, not perfection.
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