I've seen the phrase "sorry, not sorry" quite a bit in these blogging parts of town. At first, it annoyed the hell out of me. Think about it. How are you sorry for not being sorry? Doesn't that just mean that you're apologizing for the act that you claim your aren't sorry for just to admit that you are sorry nonetheless? I really thought it was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard (for that week, cause lets be honest, the amount of ridiculousness that is encountered on a weekly basis is overwhelming).
Continuing on, I didn't get it...until one day it dawned on me. I am sorry, but not sorry at least 75% of The events, thoughts, actions and words that I speak on a daily basis. I am unapologetic for the things that most people should probably apologize for. And the best part (worst part?) is that I am so disconnected and desensitized that I (at this moment) don't find anything wrong with that. Lets reflect shall we?
I'm sorry, not sorry...
That I am obsessed with my hair. Truth
That I choose to take time away from people when I have reached my "emotional overload" rating. I am always available to my friends when they need me, but on the very rare occasion that I have my own emotional crisis going on, I've learned to take time way so that I can better myself and thus be better for them. I do not apologize for taking a mental health break, even if it means that something gets damaged in the process.
I love the color orange to the point that my purse, work bag, cell phone case, wallet, work laptop case, portable mouse, notebook, pen, pen pouch, stylus, and headphones are all various shades of orange. It's ridiculous. But I don't care.
That your chewing will drive me crazy and I have to fight the urge to refrain from choking you. Misophonia. It's real. I have it. Look it up.
That I exaggerate and can blow things out of proportion. True story: I got a bug bite on my leg and I panicked for a week straight (clue#1) because I thought I got bit by a brown recluse spider. Did I go to the doctor or set up an appointment? Nope. Did I look up everything on google that clearly indicated that I did not have a gaping, flesh eating bite on my leg (clue #2)? Yep. Did I still believe that it was a recluse? You betcha. Not enough of an example? How about the fact that I got a knot in my neck (probably from sleeping wrong) and I swore up and down that I broke my collar bone. The thing is that I believed it, even though I knew that I'd done nothing to cause such an injury. I guess that's the thing...I'm sorry, not sorry that I believe stuff like this even when I know them to be impossible.
I can admit that I have a small network of friends. Real friends. I may be hurt if one of these friendships ends, but I'm sorry, not sorry that I will get over it. It is a hard part of growing up.
That I really wish that I had a wand, tiara and cloud of glitter rain to use at my disposal.
That every 28 days or so I will complain about the unfairness and brutal pain that I experience for not being pregnant. Thats a week of whining, crying, yelling, cramping, eating, munching, sweats wearing that I am not sorry for. (Understand that I am referring to the actions resulting from that week and not the problem itself).
I'm sorry, not sorry to admit that when I meet someone for the first time, I intentionally look at their eyebrows and base my interest in the conversation on said eyebrows. Shallow? Not really. I don't judge that person for their eyebrow grooming skills, or lack there of, it's just that I have a very short attention span and its hard for me to *Squirrel* focus when their eyebrows are erased and drawn on, perfectly arched, or a hotmess. Once I'm over the shock (good or bad), I can focus on any subsequent conversation. Flash me your eyebrows before you try to carry a real conversation with me and all will be good.
For wanting a hippo named Franchesca, a pig named Winston, a manatee whale named Marilyn and a a Lynx named Slick Rick.
I am pretty sure this page will continue on. So tell me, what are you sorry not sorry for?
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