Dr. Quackenfuck has coined a new term for my “I’m Sorry” face; since he says he sees it appear so often;
“You know…? For someone who’d always be the very last one to go out of your way to hurt anybody, you sure do say ‘I’m sorry’ a lot.”
“Yeah, yeah – I know…it’s some fucked up default mechanism I have apparently acquired in more recent years; thanks for the highlight though, dude.”
I say “I’m sorry” more than any other phrase or statement – by a landslide. It’s similar to the way we, as human beings (especially the more mutated versions of the species), have cultivated the habit of robotically responding to questions such as, “How are you?” with “Good” or “Fine”, or any other variation of such meaningless syllables. We have evolved within our spoken and written languages worldwide in this way: to carry less and less meaning on the wings of our words.
My tendency to spit out the phrase “I’m sorry” has only become annoyingly predominant within the past decade, yes – it was born into the “Post Ripper Era” with the current-day ‘me’. It seems to be a reflexive response that I execute most commonly, as a knee-jerk response to the things that are going on around me – with particular emphasis on things that I feel like I have no control over. For instance, 1) when my girlfriend tells me she lost her purse and everything in it: I tell her that I’m sorry; 2) when a client mentions the hardship that he or she is having financially: I respond my saying that I’m sorry; 3) when the clerk at the grocery store dumps a handful of coins as she hurriedly tries to punch them into my palm at the register: my reaction is to apologize to her for her lack of grace. It is something that comes up time and again between me and my family/friends, also; everybody always seems to be asking me what I am sorry about.
Most of the time, as soon as I say it, I think to myself:
‘What the fuck are YOU even sorry for, Bambi?’
– only to come up empty once again, in regard to an acceptable answer as to why the hell I am so fucking sorry all the time, about everything.
The over-caffeinated tree-squirrel (my shrink) says that this likely stems from my “Survivor’s Guilt”; that lovely term some moron psychiatrist coined to describe that emotional/mental anchor that I drag from my ankles, when it comes to any guilt I continue to harbor from my previous existence before that last, major injury. He seems to think that I subconsciously believe that apologizing to others about totally unrelated events will bring me comfort and closure somehow…I seem to think that he is a full-blown crackhead if he honestly believes that I am so fucking dense. I mean – c’mon…I think I deserve a little more cred on the self-awareness front than to actually have my shrink entertaining such miserably pathetic ideas about where my head is at. Damn!
I’m not sure, as there are admittedly many aspects surrounding my do-over life that I do not fully comprehend at this point of things, but I would venture to say that I say I’m sorry so often because I feel like I am sorry pretty often…duh. When my cousin totals her car on the interstate and gets arrested for DUI and tries to call me for bail money: I am sorry when I tell her I’m sorry; same goes for most of the various instances in which I can be found spitting out apologies for things that I did not necessarily have any hand in causing or creating – I can feel sorry that bad things to other people, I can offer apologies for how fucked up the world is becoming in general. I am truly sorry for the things that many of us are forced to endure throughout life and death and everything in between.
And, it turns out, upon closer introspection on this topic – the root trigger to my compelling need to say that I am sorry is exactly what I am constantly apologizing for: IT IS THE COLLECTIVE UGLINESS OF MY FELLOW HUMAN SPECIES. Most of the times that I say “I’m sorry” to somebody when I have done nothing to warrant a personal apology, it is due to my own disgust with the things that people unfailingly do to others – no more, no less.