Such a beautiful lesson for this young mother to realize at such a young age, for herself and her baby.
I think I was in my mid-forties when I learned to say "Thank You" instead of "I'm sorry." It took at least a year to unwind the habit of apologizing for everything. i don't know as I'm fully at the level of speaking my needs in full volume, but I am no longer apologizing for them. Instead, I'm thanking people for giving me the space to need.
I'm sitting over here a timezone away hoping that other people on the train overheard this conversation with the young mother and took in a few tidbits as well.
I think I'm still unwinding from the habit of apologizing! That will likely take another few years. I've been a chronic apologizer! But it was an interesting moment for me to be on the other side of that. There was just no need. The baby was just being himself in all his glory. No need to apologize for that!
Another really great story. And gosh, early motherhood, I remember it well. Babies know how to express their needs and don't care one bit about doing it loudly. Mothers apologize quite a lot for what's perceived as bad behavior, when actually, many times it's likely normal for the infant or child. I don't think dads do this as much.
I think it's especially hard for women to get loud about what they want. We've been held down and held back for so long. Sure, things are way better now. But we're still taught the exact opposite - don't be too loud - figuratively and not. Be a good girl. All that sugar and spice nonsense.
For many of us, doing the opposite requires a real mindshift. Ours, but society's too. Being loud takes some guts, too.
At the very least, though, we can be loud in our own heads. State what we want. Boldly. Clearly. Unapologetically. To ourselves. That'd be a good starting point anyway.
Thanks for another insightful read. You always give me stuff to think about.
What I observed, which is so interesting, was the almost lack of empathy for the young mother from other mothers. And instead, almost a quiet disdain paired with a hazing mentality - "quiet your child down because I had to." It was a bit sad.
I love your starting point. That is the starting point. If anything, we can start with our own needs, unapologetically, to ourselves. Once it isn't scary within, we can work on it being less scary outside.
Societal norms are hard to change. It really does start with us, though.
Alex, there's so much wisdom in your essay. Here's just a snippet of what moved me: "Maybe the most radical thing you can do in a world that teaches you to whisper your needs is to let yourself be heard at full volume, without apology, without explanation, without the elaborate choreography of making your hunger convenient for everyone else."
I find that I lived much of my life with apology, shrinking in social situations. When I was married, my then-husband made me feel like my needs were unimportant, and I was silenced. Thankfully, he is now my ex-husband. Also, I worked for a long while in corporate America, where my needs weren't met. I had to play the part of a corporate employee so as not to ruffle corporate feathers. I'm so glad I'm done with that scenario.
I think women in particular keep apologizing to society for, well, existing. We shrink at so many opportunities to speak up and be heard. I think society conditions us to be that way.
I am glad he is your now ex-husband, too. You should not be silenced. And I'm glad you are away from corporate America. You deserve to be heard. 🩵
Societal norms, I hope, will begin to change. I love the starting point that Nancy shares above: "At the very least, though, we can be loud in our own heads. State what we want. Boldly. Clearly. Unapologetically. To ourselves. That'd be a good starting point anyway."
Whew! So right on. As I watch my daughter navigating life with her 2 and 5 year olds, I’m pondering these questions myself. How many times she thinks she needs to quiet her boys, when I’m (jealously) seeing their ability to just be full-on, in the moment, alive. “We're all practicing the same magic trick—making our own needs disappear before anyone [including our self] notices them.”
This line sums it up…
here's what that young mother figured out in real time: apologizing for your existence doesn't make you more welcome. It just makes you smaller.
Yes! It almost becomes hard to watch. We put adult expectations on children who are simply just being alive, living their little lives to the fullest. They are going to have many many many years of an "adult" existence, full of responsibilities that can be overbearing compared to the childlike aliveness we get to experience at 2 and 5. Let's let them be alive :)
It's hard, though, because we want them to be well-behaved. But for whom?
As usual, I had so many thoughts and reactions reading what you shared here. I think you know well that any conversation surrounding motherhood gets me on board with a ton of thoughts. I'll try to distill them into these:
This morning I was at my allergy doctor getting my biweekly shot. While waiting for my name to be called, a young mom entered with her toddler and infant. The toddler was loud and boisterous and said, "Baby crying? Baby sad?" And his mom said without missing a beat, "No, booger, he's not crying. He just woke up because you're chatting with him." It was fun, light, and super adorable. A woman sitting across from me grinned. I chuckled.
Then I noticed the mom lug her kiddos to the back of the lobby, and she sat across from an older woman sitting behind her laptop, furiously pounding on the keyboard. The mom said, "I'm sorry. I know my son is pretty noisy and you're trying to work." The other woman sort of shrugged, then ignored them.
This made me think of your story and how often moms apologize for the behavior of their kids. I mean, honestly, that's a WHOLE conversation that can go down a lot of rabbit holes: why do we feel that we're responsible for our kids' behavior? why do we blame ourselves when they are socially inappropriate? why do we accept praise when they somehow do something really valiant? why aren't our kids their own persons? why can't we recognize that they aren't extensions of us? And on. And on.
Ok, but anyway, I think a lot of this has to do with social conditioning. I mean, in my own experience, there's an IMMENSE amount of pressure on parents. We are supposed to keep our kids quiet on airplanes and trains and any public space, really. And when they are loud or they ask an inappropriate or embarrassing question (try going in public with Sarah anywhere for five minutes, and you'll understand what I mean), then we apologize. It's like we're trying to tell society, "Sorry that my kid takes up this space. Sorry they are messy, noisy, goofy, awkward..."
Why?
I think something happens to us when we become immersed in adulthood, and we lose that ability to simply accept who we are--and who others are. We forget that we are also messy, noisy, goofy, and awkward. We get really good at masking.
I saw this quite clearly while I was attending last week's writing conference, which I could say in more detail but will refrain in this space.
Suffice it to say, I think this young mother was on to something when she said she feels jealous that her kid is allowed to just wail and voice his needs when she doesn't feel she can give herself permission to do that. And of course we learn how to do that in a way that isn't invasive or intrusive upon others. At least we can credit adulthood for that. At the same time, I wish we didn't lose our childlike sense.
I'm realizing, more and more, that even though I didn't think I would become a mom or that I would be a good mom, the fact that I'm raising five humans ages 5 to 15 teaches me so much about what's truly important in life. I know I would not be who I am without my children leading the way.
Oh my friend, what a delightful, wonderful, rich comment you have left me. An article in itself! So much to respond to.
I love the questions you ask:
why do we feel that we're responsible for our kids' behavior? why do we blame ourselves when they are socially inappropriate? why do we accept praise when they somehow do something really valiant? why aren't our kids their own persons? why can't we recognize that they aren't extensions of us?
I believe it boils down to us simply placing adult expectations on children, in part because we don't remember what it was like to be children. It's been too long - we can't relate. And since most of us have also simultaneously lost our sense of play, it just makes it worse. I think it is simply relational.
I agree - adulthood teaches us how to do things in a more "proper" way, but I think we lose something in that process, too. There is a purity in the expression of our needs as children that doesn't survive our transformation into adults.
Perhaps that is good in some ways. Haha! But it is challenging in others.
Your story about the unapologetic baby reminds me of a saying my mother used to say, after telling me to bundle up as a child, "Die Kälte kennt keine Scham." This meant that the cold weather isn't ashamed of itself, so you shouldn't feel ashamed for wearing a hat and gloves. The weather just is!
Love this! I always feel that uncanny valley sensation when I’m in a room full of people lost in their phones… like everyone’s bodies are there, but the room is empty. We’re so saturated with dopamine, it’s like we’ve forgotten how to land.
Your response to mama and babe made me think of the often-overlooked tend and befriend response in the nervous system, how connection, softness, and care are also survival strategies.
Yes, the train is definitely full of that sensation! Full but empty.
I agree - I think in many ways, the essence of survival is in connection and care. Throughout our history, banding together as people has almost always led to us being greater than the sum of our parts. It is how we survive and then thrive. Plus, I just couldn't help it - she needed a friend in that moment.
I love this so much. I remember traveling with babies and young children. That mother will remember your kindness forever. I often say I miss it when the kids were babies because their needs were so simple and clear. It's much harder to understand them once they learn how to mask their needs, like we so often do. This is a beautiful reminder to stop doing that.
I hope we can all do a little less masking, and simply be us more. It's hard, but imagine if we were all a bit more in tune with describing our needs a bit more. The world would change. 🩵
This particularly resonates: 'We become emotional contortionists, twisting ourselves into shapes that fit wherever we happen to find ourselves.'
Makes me think of a story I read, about a man who goes into a clothes shop to buy a suit. The shop assistant hands him one, but the sleeves are too short. 'Just pull up your arms,' says the assistant, 'then the sleeves will look right.'
The waist is far too tight. 'Breathe in,' says the assistant, 'then it'll be fine.' And so it goes.
Later, as the man walks down the street, two people pass him. 'Look at that poor crippled man,' whispers one. 'Yeah,' whispers the other, 'but isn't he wearing a great suit?'
What a beautiful story to read. That is so much of the essence of what I wrote, beautifully articulated in short form. "Isn't he wearing a great suit?" SO powerful. Thank you for adding so beautifully to this. 🩵
This question at the end, Alex, really grabbed me..."What would change if you stopped treating your aliveness like an apology?" It spoke to me that I don't need to be apologizing to myself either for my needs. As if rest, or tears or anything else that sometimes feels like failure is anything other than what I need. ❤
Alex, I love this story. As part of my trauma healing, I'm learning to listen to my biological needs and address them. I'v discovered I tend to override them, but no more. This is such a funamental way to take care of ourselves and it leads to a healtheir person. Biological needs are the foundation and our other needs to build from there. I agree with you! Let's stop apologizing for our needs.
We're brought up to make ourselves less intrusive. People who are bold and in your face are considered rude, with poor manners and no social skills. My autistic grandson doesn't have the capacity to make himself less than, he's always in the moment, and often gets chided for his timing. After reading this, I can see that he just doesn't know that he's supposed to edit himself and "read the room." Maybe I should be more like him, than the other way around. Thanks for this perspective. Love, Virg
Boundaries without an escape hatch. That's a phrase I'm going to recall this week as I begin conversations with a person with whom I need exactly that - boundaries without an escape hatch.
***
I often feel awkward when parents in public apologize for their kids being kids. Standing mid-aisle at the grocery store (heck, adults do that too, sometimes for good reason). "Excuse me" is much better than "I'm sorry." Or kids asking an awkward question or being a bit loud. That's just what kids do. They may need a bit of gentle instruction at times... but, they are kids.
Such a beautiful lesson for this young mother to realize at such a young age, for herself and her baby.
I think I was in my mid-forties when I learned to say "Thank You" instead of "I'm sorry." It took at least a year to unwind the habit of apologizing for everything. i don't know as I'm fully at the level of speaking my needs in full volume, but I am no longer apologizing for them. Instead, I'm thanking people for giving me the space to need.
I'm sitting over here a timezone away hoping that other people on the train overheard this conversation with the young mother and took in a few tidbits as well.
I think I'm still unwinding from the habit of apologizing! That will likely take another few years. I've been a chronic apologizer! But it was an interesting moment for me to be on the other side of that. There was just no need. The baby was just being himself in all his glory. No need to apologize for that!
Hi Alex,
Another really great story. And gosh, early motherhood, I remember it well. Babies know how to express their needs and don't care one bit about doing it loudly. Mothers apologize quite a lot for what's perceived as bad behavior, when actually, many times it's likely normal for the infant or child. I don't think dads do this as much.
I think it's especially hard for women to get loud about what they want. We've been held down and held back for so long. Sure, things are way better now. But we're still taught the exact opposite - don't be too loud - figuratively and not. Be a good girl. All that sugar and spice nonsense.
For many of us, doing the opposite requires a real mindshift. Ours, but society's too. Being loud takes some guts, too.
At the very least, though, we can be loud in our own heads. State what we want. Boldly. Clearly. Unapologetically. To ourselves. That'd be a good starting point anyway.
Thanks for another insightful read. You always give me stuff to think about.
What I observed, which is so interesting, was the almost lack of empathy for the young mother from other mothers. And instead, almost a quiet disdain paired with a hazing mentality - "quiet your child down because I had to." It was a bit sad.
I love your starting point. That is the starting point. If anything, we can start with our own needs, unapologetically, to ourselves. Once it isn't scary within, we can work on it being less scary outside.
Societal norms are hard to change. It really does start with us, though.
Alex, there's so much wisdom in your essay. Here's just a snippet of what moved me: "Maybe the most radical thing you can do in a world that teaches you to whisper your needs is to let yourself be heard at full volume, without apology, without explanation, without the elaborate choreography of making your hunger convenient for everyone else."
I find that I lived much of my life with apology, shrinking in social situations. When I was married, my then-husband made me feel like my needs were unimportant, and I was silenced. Thankfully, he is now my ex-husband. Also, I worked for a long while in corporate America, where my needs weren't met. I had to play the part of a corporate employee so as not to ruffle corporate feathers. I'm so glad I'm done with that scenario.
I think women in particular keep apologizing to society for, well, existing. We shrink at so many opportunities to speak up and be heard. I think society conditions us to be that way.
Thank you for another insightful essay, Alex.
I am glad he is your now ex-husband, too. You should not be silenced. And I'm glad you are away from corporate America. You deserve to be heard. 🩵
Societal norms, I hope, will begin to change. I love the starting point that Nancy shares above: "At the very least, though, we can be loud in our own heads. State what we want. Boldly. Clearly. Unapologetically. To ourselves. That'd be a good starting point anyway."
Whew! So right on. As I watch my daughter navigating life with her 2 and 5 year olds, I’m pondering these questions myself. How many times she thinks she needs to quiet her boys, when I’m (jealously) seeing their ability to just be full-on, in the moment, alive. “We're all practicing the same magic trick—making our own needs disappear before anyone [including our self] notices them.”
This line sums it up…
here's what that young mother figured out in real time: apologizing for your existence doesn't make you more welcome. It just makes you smaller.
Yes! It almost becomes hard to watch. We put adult expectations on children who are simply just being alive, living their little lives to the fullest. They are going to have many many many years of an "adult" existence, full of responsibilities that can be overbearing compared to the childlike aliveness we get to experience at 2 and 5. Let's let them be alive :)
It's hard, though, because we want them to be well-behaved. But for whom?
I think the "for whom?" question is a key question.
Alex,
As usual, I had so many thoughts and reactions reading what you shared here. I think you know well that any conversation surrounding motherhood gets me on board with a ton of thoughts. I'll try to distill them into these:
This morning I was at my allergy doctor getting my biweekly shot. While waiting for my name to be called, a young mom entered with her toddler and infant. The toddler was loud and boisterous and said, "Baby crying? Baby sad?" And his mom said without missing a beat, "No, booger, he's not crying. He just woke up because you're chatting with him." It was fun, light, and super adorable. A woman sitting across from me grinned. I chuckled.
Then I noticed the mom lug her kiddos to the back of the lobby, and she sat across from an older woman sitting behind her laptop, furiously pounding on the keyboard. The mom said, "I'm sorry. I know my son is pretty noisy and you're trying to work." The other woman sort of shrugged, then ignored them.
This made me think of your story and how often moms apologize for the behavior of their kids. I mean, honestly, that's a WHOLE conversation that can go down a lot of rabbit holes: why do we feel that we're responsible for our kids' behavior? why do we blame ourselves when they are socially inappropriate? why do we accept praise when they somehow do something really valiant? why aren't our kids their own persons? why can't we recognize that they aren't extensions of us? And on. And on.
Ok, but anyway, I think a lot of this has to do with social conditioning. I mean, in my own experience, there's an IMMENSE amount of pressure on parents. We are supposed to keep our kids quiet on airplanes and trains and any public space, really. And when they are loud or they ask an inappropriate or embarrassing question (try going in public with Sarah anywhere for five minutes, and you'll understand what I mean), then we apologize. It's like we're trying to tell society, "Sorry that my kid takes up this space. Sorry they are messy, noisy, goofy, awkward..."
Why?
I think something happens to us when we become immersed in adulthood, and we lose that ability to simply accept who we are--and who others are. We forget that we are also messy, noisy, goofy, and awkward. We get really good at masking.
I saw this quite clearly while I was attending last week's writing conference, which I could say in more detail but will refrain in this space.
Suffice it to say, I think this young mother was on to something when she said she feels jealous that her kid is allowed to just wail and voice his needs when she doesn't feel she can give herself permission to do that. And of course we learn how to do that in a way that isn't invasive or intrusive upon others. At least we can credit adulthood for that. At the same time, I wish we didn't lose our childlike sense.
I'm realizing, more and more, that even though I didn't think I would become a mom or that I would be a good mom, the fact that I'm raising five humans ages 5 to 15 teaches me so much about what's truly important in life. I know I would not be who I am without my children leading the way.
Oh my friend, what a delightful, wonderful, rich comment you have left me. An article in itself! So much to respond to.
I love the questions you ask:
why do we feel that we're responsible for our kids' behavior? why do we blame ourselves when they are socially inappropriate? why do we accept praise when they somehow do something really valiant? why aren't our kids their own persons? why can't we recognize that they aren't extensions of us?
I believe it boils down to us simply placing adult expectations on children, in part because we don't remember what it was like to be children. It's been too long - we can't relate. And since most of us have also simultaneously lost our sense of play, it just makes it worse. I think it is simply relational.
I agree - adulthood teaches us how to do things in a more "proper" way, but I think we lose something in that process, too. There is a purity in the expression of our needs as children that doesn't survive our transformation into adults.
Perhaps that is good in some ways. Haha! But it is challenging in others.
Your story about the unapologetic baby reminds me of a saying my mother used to say, after telling me to bundle up as a child, "Die Kälte kennt keine Scham." This meant that the cold weather isn't ashamed of itself, so you shouldn't feel ashamed for wearing a hat and gloves. The weather just is!
Oh, what an apt saying for this space! Thank you for sharing. The weather just is! I love it!
Love this! I always feel that uncanny valley sensation when I’m in a room full of people lost in their phones… like everyone’s bodies are there, but the room is empty. We’re so saturated with dopamine, it’s like we’ve forgotten how to land.
Your response to mama and babe made me think of the often-overlooked tend and befriend response in the nervous system, how connection, softness, and care are also survival strategies.
Thank you, Oviya!
Yes, the train is definitely full of that sensation! Full but empty.
I agree - I think in many ways, the essence of survival is in connection and care. Throughout our history, banding together as people has almost always led to us being greater than the sum of our parts. It is how we survive and then thrive. Plus, I just couldn't help it - she needed a friend in that moment.
I love this so much. I remember traveling with babies and young children. That mother will remember your kindness forever. I often say I miss it when the kids were babies because their needs were so simple and clear. It's much harder to understand them once they learn how to mask their needs, like we so often do. This is a beautiful reminder to stop doing that.
I hope we can all do a little less masking, and simply be us more. It's hard, but imagine if we were all a bit more in tune with describing our needs a bit more. The world would change. 🩵
Love it. Your posts always feel so permissive. :)
This particularly resonates: 'We become emotional contortionists, twisting ourselves into shapes that fit wherever we happen to find ourselves.'
Makes me think of a story I read, about a man who goes into a clothes shop to buy a suit. The shop assistant hands him one, but the sleeves are too short. 'Just pull up your arms,' says the assistant, 'then the sleeves will look right.'
The waist is far too tight. 'Breathe in,' says the assistant, 'then it'll be fine.' And so it goes.
Later, as the man walks down the street, two people pass him. 'Look at that poor crippled man,' whispers one. 'Yeah,' whispers the other, 'but isn't he wearing a great suit?'
Thank you, Susie.
What a beautiful story to read. That is so much of the essence of what I wrote, beautifully articulated in short form. "Isn't he wearing a great suit?" SO powerful. Thank you for adding so beautifully to this. 🩵
This question at the end, Alex, really grabbed me..."What would change if you stopped treating your aliveness like an apology?" It spoke to me that I don't need to be apologizing to myself either for my needs. As if rest, or tears or anything else that sometimes feels like failure is anything other than what I need. ❤
Alex, I love this story. As part of my trauma healing, I'm learning to listen to my biological needs and address them. I'v discovered I tend to override them, but no more. This is such a funamental way to take care of ourselves and it leads to a healtheir person. Biological needs are the foundation and our other needs to build from there. I agree with you! Let's stop apologizing for our needs.
We're brought up to make ourselves less intrusive. People who are bold and in your face are considered rude, with poor manners and no social skills. My autistic grandson doesn't have the capacity to make himself less than, he's always in the moment, and often gets chided for his timing. After reading this, I can see that he just doesn't know that he's supposed to edit himself and "read the room." Maybe I should be more like him, than the other way around. Thanks for this perspective. Love, Virg
Boundaries without an escape hatch. That's a phrase I'm going to recall this week as I begin conversations with a person with whom I need exactly that - boundaries without an escape hatch.
***
I often feel awkward when parents in public apologize for their kids being kids. Standing mid-aisle at the grocery store (heck, adults do that too, sometimes for good reason). "Excuse me" is much better than "I'm sorry." Or kids asking an awkward question or being a bit loud. That's just what kids do. They may need a bit of gentle instruction at times... but, they are kids.
Everyone has needs.
Needs are sign that we exist.
How to co-exist?