I’m Sorry: A Memoir

I spent the morning letting her have free reign of the couch and relaxation, until she said to me I have white spots under my tongue and my throat still hurts. Upon inspection I immediately called the doctor. Strep went through my head.

 

We arrived at the doctor’s office, got confirmation of strep throat, and a prescription for amoxicillin. While driving home I was alerted that the prescription was ready and I went to pick it up. I was asked if I had any questions for the for the pharmacist, and I said no. The pharmacy tech got my prescription handed it to me and I said, “Wait I do have questions… I’m sorry!”

She looked at me and said, “That’s okay. What’s your question?”

 

I asked if there could be any interactions with the other medication she was on for ADHD or even with her daily multivitamin. She went and asked the pharmacist they looked it up and confirm there would be no issue. As I went to roll up my window, she went to close hers (thank heavens for the CVS drive-thru with Millie asleep in the back), I said, “I’m so sorry- I have one more question!” “Yeah- anything,” she responded. I asked if I should give her a dose now and another before bed or just one dose tonight and two doses tomorrow? It was already 4, and I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t over or under dosing her. She went to ask the pharmacist who came over and confirm to give her just one dose tonight before bed and then start with two doses the following day. They both smiled at me I smiled back and then I said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you for answering my questions.” I rolled my window up and drove towards home.

 

While I was sitting waiting to make a left turn out of the parking lot, Addie asked me, “Why did you say sorry?”
“What?”
“Why did you say sorry?” she repeated.

Paused. I made my left hand turn and drove through one light, in complete silence. I don’t know I responded. I really don’t know why I just apologized, it’s their job to answer my questions. I guess I felt bad for telling them I didn’t have a question and then having one. I was sorry I felt like I wasted their time. But really, I didn’t waste their time I just had a question. “I wanted to make sure I was giving you the correct medication at the correct time working with the meds you’re already on. I guess I had nothing to be sorry about, but it felt like the right thing to say.”
“Oh,” she responded… and in that moment I realized as much as I call myself a feminist, I still in trapped by the confines that women are brought up in, and that so many of us are still tied to. We are so goddamn sorry for being. We’re sorry we have questions. We’re sorry we want to know more. We’re just sorry for existing most of the time.

 

But I take up space. And I’m not sorry. It made me feel inadequate that my own daughter called me out on it, but it also made me feel proud. She knew I had no reason to be sorry. And so I’m still learning not to say sorry for everything. I’m learning not to be sorry that I exist. I’m learning to truly take up that space that I deserve. My space.

 

And I’m still sorry much of the time. But I’m trying so hard not to be, and so honored to be raising two young women who are not sorry. Who will become women who take up space, and demand respect, who will never know any different that should not be sorry. And who know the difference between the riots and revolutions they ignite.