For twenty years, I found myself apologising to my mother-in-law almost like it was my second nature, as routine as breathing.
“Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour already!” Her voice crackled through the phone, every syllable edged with indignation.
“I’m sorry, I must not have been clear about the time” I started, falling back into old habits, even though my message had clearly stated: meet at three. Now it was only quarter to.
Nearly all our conversations began this way.
That particular day, we were supposed to be choosing curtains for my daughter’s room. I suggested I could just send her some photos, but she insisted we go together.
“These are rather nice,” I said, holding up a pair of light beige curtains.
“Beige?” she sniffed dismissively. “Completely impractical. Much better to go with navy blue. I’ve raised children, I know what’s sensible.”
So, we ended up with the blue.
On the way home, I said nothing, staring out at the rain-splattered London streets. Everything was supposedly normal, she was pleased, but a heaviness pressed on my chest and I couldn’t quite explain it.
That evening, my close friend Emily rang.
“Have you noticed something?” she said. “You apologise for other peoples responses.”
That stopped me cold.
I began to remember.
Id apologise when we missed a family gathering nobody had told us about.
Id apologise because I hadnt asked for advice.
Id apologise when a gift was not quite right.
Id apologise when my daughter didnt want to sleep over.
As though I was somehow responsible for her every mood.
The deepest sting came when I found an old photograph me at ten, withdrawn, folded in on myself, like I was apologising just for existing.
I remembered my childhood.
My mother, always tired. Sharp words, stray sighs like You make everything so much harder for me.
And there I was the girl who took responsibility for the comfort of grown-ups.
That belief stayed with me as I grew older.
Only now, it was my mother-in-law, not my mother.
A week later, she rang, cross that wed signed our daughter up for ballet lessons.
Normally, Id have launched into, “I’m so sorry we didn’t mean to upset you well think about it”
This time, I took a slow breath and replied calmly,
“Im sorry that youre upset. But this is our decision as her parents. Its not a slight against you, and it isnt my fault if our choices arent what you hoped for.”
The silence on her end went on forever.
Afterwards, my hands shook, but something new settled in me: relief.
Later, when my husband told me his mother thought Id been rude, I simply answered,
“I wasnt rude. I just didnt apologise for what wasnt my doing.”
A few days on, she came over for tea. For the first time, we spoke honestly.
“I just want to feel important,” she confessed quietly.
“You are important,” I said. “But your opinion is just that an opinion, not an order.”
That conversation didnt magically fix everything. Sometimes, I still feel the urge to apologise for things that arent my fault.
But now, I see it.
And I stop myself.
I am not responsible for other peoples feelings.
And that realisation was the most liberating moment of my life.
A question to you:
How often do you apologise for things that you cant control just to keep the peace?
