(Stuart’s Thanks to Benjamin for writing the story showing below, which is needed to be read by many who should not always be so apologetic for their actions)
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How reflexive apologies are a bad habit I’m trying to change
by Benjamin Hofmeister |
Even if I resolved to improve my cardiovascular health by taking the stairs more often, I can’t. Mobility problems brought on by my primary progressive multiple sclerosis force me to use a wheelchair. Using a wheelchair, in turn, means that stairs and I are natural enemies (as are curbs and really high thresholds), so I always take the elevator.
In all modesty, I’ve become something of an elevator pro. I’m not sure how exactly one loses their amateur status at this, but I feel that I have. I follow the etiquette to the letter. I never face the back, don’t make eye contact, don’t attempt small talk, and I don’t try to crush other passengers by pressing the “close door” button.
What I frequently do on elevators — what causes me, and probably others, consternation — is I reflexively apologize.
I impulsively say “I’m sorry” lots of places. I apologize to restaurant staff, cashiers, other customers in stores, and so on. Elevators are just where it seems to happen most often, most likely because of the proximity to others and maybe because they’re already in an uncomfortable place.
Not long ago, I boarded one at my local Veterans Affairs hospital. There was only one other person aboard, it wasn’t crowded, he didn’t have to hold the door for me, and I didn’t run over his toes with my wheelchair. I couldn’t have done that, even if I’d tried, because he happened to be in a wheelchair as well. Still, as I maneuvered into position, the words “Sorry, it takes me a second” tumbled out of my mouth.
The other veteran seemed slightly amused, glanced at both our chairs, and replied, “Who are you apologizing to?”
Whom am I apologizing to when I reflexively apologize, and why do I do it? Am I apologizing to others because I feel as though I’ve inconvenienced them? Am I apologizing to (and for) myself because I think I’m an inconvenience? Either way, an automatic apology isn’t remotely sincere, and recipients know it.
An insincere, reflexive apology is often perceived as a lack of confidence. As someone who’s had a near excess of self-confidence over the past two decades, I don’t like that thought very much. When I think about it objectively, however, it makes sense. Multiple sclerosis is inconsistent, but it consistently saps my confidence. It’s hard to be confident in abilities that can change by the hour.
I don’t know what your idea of perfection is. I’m pretty sure we all have something different in mind – varied pictures of what a perfect life should be. My picture doesn’t include MS, so my reality is far from ideal. I wonder if striving so hard for an imaginary perfection is why we reflexively apologize — maybe just to ourselves.
There’s no need to apologize for reality, though. No matter how much it differs from what we want it to be, it is what it is. I’m going to try to replace a reflexive, insincere “I’m sorry” with a sincere “thank you.”
Instead of “I’m sorry I’m slow,” I’ll try, “Thank you for holding the elevator door for me.” I think everyone will like that better. I know I will.
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