Tag Archives: anxiety

Don’t Apologize for Existing

I’m sharing this post mainly because I found a little bit of myself in it. I apologize a lot, I apologize all the time and I apologize for things that I don’t need to apologize for. I never really noticed until people started pointing it out. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I managed to figure it out for myself, but I’ve never been able to put it into words like this. And some parts of this really resonates for me…




Excuse me.


With the onset of my depression and anxiety, “sorry” became my favorite word. Sorry for bumping into you, even if you hardly noticed. Sorry my hair sticks up on one side and I’m not wearing makeup. Sorry I’m so thin when you’re trying to lose weight. Sorry for thinking about how hard it is for me to maintain weight when you’re trying to deal with your own problems. Sorry the gift you bought me doesn’t fit. Sorry.



Sorry for being as smart as I am but not pursuing a career in medicine or engineering. Sorry that my leg bounces up and down and it distracted you. Sorry you feel you need to stop wearing your perfume because I’m having breathing problems.

Sorry for taking up space. Sorry for being sad or scared. Sorry for not smiling as brightly as you expect me to, or for not paying you the attention you deserve when you tell me about your day. Sorry for needing a ride instead of growing up and getting a license. Sorry for finally getting a license and not always parking perfectly or taking turns smoothly. Sorry for drawing instead of looking at you because I’ve become too anxious for eye contact.

I didn’t realize how much I was doing it until my dad said, “Stop apologizing for existing.”

“Sorry,” I said, proving his point.

Depression and anxiety told me I was worthless. They told me that I was responsible for fixing everything wrong with the lives of my loved ones. They told me I needed to stop making mistakes. They told me I needed to participate in conversations and get a social life (but they also told me not to hog the spotlight). I always needed to become better or smarter or something. Depression and anxiety told me I was never enough.

They’re still telling me that. And some days, I still believe them.

But on those days I remind myself that depression and anxiety are lying. No one is perfect, and even if I’m not good enough (or so they tell me) I still have value; I can contribute in a positive way to the lives of those around me.

If depression and anxiety are lying to you, that’s OK. Just remind yourself what’s true. And most importantly, don’t apologize: for taking up space, for living your life, for being you.

You are worth more than that. You don’t have to be sorry.


Dragon Harris

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Late at night, I just sit and worry.

When will I be able to sleep at a normal hour again?
When will I be able to breathe without having to remind myself to?
Everything is just piling on top of each other and the clock won’t even consider a short pause. We’re in constant motion all the time and we are expected to keep up. I can’t though. I never can. I’m too busy living in my own mind. The worst part is I know this will all blow up in my own face when it all comes down to “getting my shit together”. Most likely, I will just cry. When am I gonna stop being a fucking baby, and grow the fuck up?
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Fear of…

…being unsuccessful.
…being a disappointment.
…not living up to the dream.
…not trying hard enough.
…not being pretty enough.
…not being good enough.
Fear of not being enough.

My mind is preoccupied with all these useless thoughts.
Some might say this is so typical of a sixteen year old – well maybe it is but that doesn’t make it less important.
I’m tired of just having my mum tell me how good I am, and how gorgeous I am, and how this and how that.
She loves me unconditionally; her judgement doesn’t count.

And lately, I haven’t been close enough to anyone to know what I truly am, or what people truly think of me.  But everyday that passes my mind gets slightly more clogged up with all these worries and I begin to wish to fall off the face of the earth; at least then I wouldn’t have to worry, right?

Then I ask myself, do I really want to know if I am good enough, or if I will be successful, or if I won’t be?
Isn’t that just as scary? Or will it ruin the painful fun of this thing we call life?

Who has all the answers, and why do I have so many questions?
Ugh… I wish my brain had an on/off button sometimes.

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