I’m Sorry I Find It Hard To Say I’m Sorry

Per my last post, I have definitely been in the position where I had to forgive others without an apology I felt entitled to. In the past, I have let the absence of apologies control my inner peace and the ability to get closure on certain topics. I would, and sometimes still, get so passionate about feeling entitled to an apology that I cling onto the thought for some time. But I’ve also been on the other side of the situation where I owe someone an apology and can’t find the words to say it. Yes my friends, surprise surprise, there is some hypocrisy and double standards present. Nobody is perfect, and I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not. If I claim to keep it real, I have to keep it all the way real. This is the opposite side of last week’s post, the other side of the coin, not being able to apologize.

Growing up, apologies weren’t given in my household. And when this topic was brought up with cousins and close friends, I realized that my personal upbringing is not too far fetched from the experience of others. I don’t know if it’s a cultural thing, a generational gap thing, or what it is, but it seemed to be somewhat the same talking to others about their family dynamic. I can only speak for my own personal experience and the experiences of others that I have talked to, but it seems to be the gap between first generation Filipino Americans with their Philippines-born and raised parents. We have a lot of similarities with apologies and not being able to admit wrong doing through the generations.

Growing up, and to this day, apologies are not common in my family. That is not to say that apologies were never called for – because ohhhhh they definitely were – but they simply were not normalized in my household. I don’t know how “normal” or “not normal,” that is, but it seems to be a common experience for first generation Filipino Americans and their parents. There was no saying sorry, and if there was an apology being made, it was very rare. So rare, that I can’t even think of a specific time where I received a serious apology from someone in my immediate family without it being said in a silly downplayed voice. My parents rarely apologize to us, we rarely apologize to them, and my sisters and I don’t apologize to each other. This may be weird to some, but that’s our family dynamic.

So you’re probably wondering, how does your family move forward after an argument or after hurt feelings? Great question. The answer is this: you’re salty for a couple of days, or however long it takes you to get over it, and then you make up for it by either over compensating with food, or acting like nothing happened. There’s no conversation after to talk over your feelings, there’s no taking ownership of your part, there’s no acknowledgement of what transpired. You suppress that shit until the next time you explode. Yes, unhealthy, I know. But that’s the reality of it all. I’m not saying it’s the right way to go about things, but it’s how we go about things.

In my Filipino household, we express our love language in different ways. Just because there was an absence of apologies, didn’t mean we were never sorry. We definitely felt bad, reflected on our actions, and regretted poor choice of actions or words. Our problem was never lacking empathy, it was expressing that empathy verbally. So, instead of facing conflict head on, we learned to express ourselves through acts of service and food, completely ignoring and avoiding the real issues. I didn’t get it until I was older, but it’s a cycle being repeated. A cycle that we are not so proud of as we are aware that there are better ways to deal with post-conflict. But I get it, it’s how my parents, and their parents, and my grandparent’s parents (and so forth) were taught to behave. It was different times then, and I come from a long lineage of strong individuals who endured even the roughest of times with grace. They handled their shit because they had to. In their times of struggle, they had no time to communicate their feelings, they had to keep it moving and be strong. But times are different now, and maintaining that strong persona and not expressing emotions properly has it’s repercussions. I can appreciate and admire my ancestors’ resilience and strength while simultaneously analyzing how harmful these coping mechanisms can be.

Culturally, Filipinos are taught to be strong, respect their elders, and never speak out against those superior to you. However, this way of thinking pushes the notion that some people are entitled to apologies while others are not, completely disregarding someone else’s reality due to pride and status in the family, relationship, or setting. Filipinos are taught to never disrespect their elders, and a lot of the time, that meant disagreeing or articulating your stance on a topic. This creates a damaging cycle that enables an echo chamber of beliefs that are not necessarily true or correct, but more so upheld to keep the peace. And that generational gap from first generation Filipino Americans and their parents / family members is a significant shift of beliefs. First generation Filipinos are in that awkward position trying to juggle two cultures with very conflicting beliefs when it comes to standing up for what you believe in, standing up for what you think is right, but also respecting the cultural differences.

This cultural difference was more apparent, for example, when I would watch some of my favorite family sitcoms like Full House, The Cosby Show, That’s So Raven, Boy Meets World, The Parkers, and many others. Anytime there was a scene that got too sappy with the characters expressing their feelings, I would lowkey cringe. And if I was watching it with my sisters, we would comment and make fun of the characters having a moment with their parent or people close to them. It wouldn’t be uncommon for us to say things like, “Ew,” “Yeah right,” “Haha, hella ugly,” while watching these moments on TV. To us, it felt unrealistic, just because our upbringing was so different. We didn’t have sappy moments where we expressed ourselves to be vulnerable. In fact, we used to label is as an “American” thing – we weren’t brought up to communicate those difficult feelings. For us, we kept a mental note and kept it moving.

This is where it gets confusing, because in my personal relationships and friendships, communication is key. Accepting and taking ownership of your own actions is key. Being open about what I feel and what I like and dislike is key. But that’s not what I’m accustomed to. It’s ironic that these are things that are important to me, but at times I am unable to do them myself. Now that I’m an adult and know what characteristics I want in a partner, friend, and future children, it also makes me reflect on what kind of characteristics I need to have as well to make it successful. It comes so easy to me as a teacher, teaching the kids to express their feelings, validating them and letting them know it’s okay to feel the way they do, and that I hear them. It’s important to me talk things out with kids and give apologies when apologies are due so they know that just because I’m an adult, it doesn’t mean I am above making mistakes. I have no problem setting the example for the youth, but find it very difficult to take my own advice and express myself to others.

You never really know your flaws until something happens and you reflect on why it happened the way it did. For me, that self-realization moment was when I realized that I have a really hard time apologizing. For the record, I have no problem apologizing to people when I’m completely in the wrong, being an asshole, or messed up in some way. I can admit and own up to my shortcomings if necessary. I also know that my sense of humor can sometimes be high key banter, so I can acknowledge when I cross boundaries with others. The scenarios that I’m talking about where I persevere with my pride, are the times I’m arguing with someone to make a point, to express my opposing point of view and reality, and any scenario where there is arguing involved. Those are the times I push on with my stubborn ways and find it difficult to apologize to others.

Deep down I always knew that I had a lot of pride and found it difficult to apologize to others in an argument. My excuse used to be “that’s just how I am,” and rolled with it. Obviously being young and immature, I didn’t care to reflect on the “why” behind the struggle to say “I’m sorry,” to others. It wasn’t until I started dating and being in relationships did I realize that my unapologetic nature could be more than a minor complication. It wasn’t that I was remorseless, because I am a deeply empathetic person. However, when I think I am right in a situation, I stick to my guns.

I am very confident in my opinions, and I got the time to hash it out. When I get upset, I can say the nastiest things. My goal is to win – whether that be spitting facts, saying the better come back, or just saying the most hurtful things. And it takes a lot for me to verbally apologize. On the inside, I could fully articulate how I feel in my head, even through text. But when it comes to verbally giving apologies, I just can’t do it. And when I do, it takes an insulting amount of time for the words to fall out of my mouth.

It wasn’t until my current relationship did I realize it was a problem I had to change and fix. In the past, I was aware of the problem, but just took it as a slight personality flaw that could be tucked under the rug. I soon realized that there was no rug big enough in the world to tuck this shit under. It was no longer “cute” or acceptable to have it be that hard to give an apology, especially when an apology is owed. This wasn’t just petty arguing with my immediate family anymore. This time around, it was with someone who is choosing to be with me, but definitely doesn’t have to stay in my life. It was with someone who was willing to work with me through my very ugly moments in hopes that I would grow and learn for future reference.

That’s when I realized it was a huge problem – when I realized that a small (but obviously big) action like apologizing was one of the hardest things for me to do. When I reflected on why it’s so difficult for me to do so, my upbringing was obviously one of the first things I thought of. But it was deeper than that. Giving someone an apology is acknowledging your faults, letting your guard down, and it takes some level of thought provoking deep diving into one’s own actions. As childish as it sounds, I grew up believing that saying “I’m sorry,” was a sign of weakness. Apologizing first meant that you’ve admitted to all the blame, you acknowledge that they’re right and you’re wrong, and shows that you’re the “loser” in the argument. That’s why in the past I never caved into giving apologies first. I refused to be vulnerable and express my emotions.

Vulnerability is scary and uncomfortable. Especially when you are not used to expressing yourself verbally, emotional vulnerability is nearly impossible. I feel like I’m a lot better with expressing my emotions and allowing myself to be vulnerable with others. I have to consciously make the effort and think it out in my head before I verbally express myself. But in the past, it wasn’t easy at all. In arguments and fights, I avoided opening up. To open up back then, a huge argument where unkind words were spoken would have to happen first before there is any emotions being expressed. There was no way around it. You want me to open up? You have to weather the storm with me first – see me at my absolute worst so you can get the apology or clarity you need from me.

It’s not that I can’t apologize period, but that I can’t be the first one to apologize. I can say it in return, but being the first to apologize was as rare as snow in San Francisco – possible, just highly unlikely. I preferred the other party to initiate reconciliation, and I’m very stubborn about it. There were plenty of times where I simply did not budge at all. “There is no way in hell that I’m admitting to my faults before you do. That would be asking too much of me,” I would think to myself. I needed the other party to be the bigger person and let their guard down first. How can I possibly let my guard down when my defensive walls are built so high? How does someone even attempt to chip away at the thick emotional barrier I surrounded around my hurt feelings? Opening up that dam of emotions first was a sign of weakness that I simply couldn’t show.

That right there – not wanting to come off as “weak”- was the root of it all. The satisfaction of someone else apologizing first and me just following their lead was a game that I couldn’t play for long. At one point, I had to give in. And not because I had to, but because playing mind games to be the winner only made me the biggest loser in the end. It only brought hurt feelings, invalidation, and resentment. It wasn’t worth it. Pride can be an ugly emotion. It can drive you to act a certain way that is completely different from what you feel inside. It no longer felt good or like a victory to push others to their absolute worst. I would feel horrible about myself and hated the way I went about conflict and confrontation. I hated that I found it so difficult to apologize.

It seemed I could only healthily communicate my hurt and my frustration through text message. No matter how many times I rehearsed a conversation in my head, it would never turn out the way I had anticipated. Once I vocalize my emotions and how I feel, the flood gates open up. It didn’t matter if I was sad, mad, or felt any other difficult emotion, the simple act of verbalizing that emotion brought my inner bad bitch bad ass to her fucking knees. And that was a feeling I hated – being vulnerable. That vulnerability would have me in a crying fit of rage, aggravated that I had to express myself. It’s so much easier to be upset and angry than it is to express your emotions. But no one is a mind reader. And your point won’t be understood until it is made.

Growing up not expressing frustration, hurt feelings, or anything that will stir the pot is probably a big reason why I write. It’s not that I don’t have the words to verbally communicate my feelings, it’s more so that I don’t know how to control my emotions to make sure that my tone lines up with what I’m feeling and thinking in my head. A lot of the time I go into defense mode because I feel attacked. Sometimes it can be because I’m actually being attacked, but others times it’s because I’m not used to being confronted with verbal expression. As a little kid, I turned to writing to fully express myself, mostly through fictional stories where the main character resembled me.

But even as an adult, I find myself dealing with conflict by writing. Most of the time that means through text. I have the ability to think out what I want to write, sit on it, read it over, and make sure I’m getting my point across in a mature manner. Communicating my hurt feelings verbally is something I have yet to master. For me, it can go south really fast. The moment someone responds in a way that wasn’t what I expected, I can lose my cool when I have promised myself to keep my composure. Writing allows me to reply on my time, and take time to cool down. It allows me to pick and choose my words wisely, and set the tone for the conversation at hand.

This is still something that I am working on to this day. I know I usually write about things as if I have already figured it out and mastered whatever topic I’m writing about. But a lot of the time, that’s just me being self-aware and adding onto what I know is the right way to handle things. We are all a work in progress, and I know I have a lot of healing and relearning to do as an adult. I know that I need to nurture my inner child and dig deeper as to why I have difficulty in some scenarios. It is okay to know what the “healthy” thing to do is but still choose old ways of handling it. It’s okay to take 1 step forward and 3 steps back. It’s okay to still be learning. Nobody knows it all, and nobody is perfect. Apologizing and owning up to my shit is still something that I struggle with. This is still something that I’m working on. And that’s okay. The first step is being aware and attempting to better your ways. Like everything else, it will take baby steps.

Learning to communicate is something you work on for the rest of your life. Acknowledging your own short comings and flaws is the first step to actually changing those habits. I know I have a tough time apologizing to others and verbally communicating how I feel, but that doesn’t mean that I have to be stuck in my ways. Breaking the cycle is not an easy thing to do, but it’s not impossible.

Change$

Last picture of me and Goldie 💔

I never realized how much I hate change until…

“…Stay tuned for next week, I’ll be sharing a story I’ve been wanting to share for years…” I wrote on my Instagram post last week. I reread my caption, added my hashtags, and clicked the “Share” button.

Within minutes of posting that post, my phone froze and acted like it was restarting. It stayed on the “Samsung” black background for hours until the phone ran out of juice and died. I thought I’d just charge it and I’d be fine.

“Its just a glitch,” I was trying to tell myself so I wouldn’t freak out that there’s a pretty good chance I’d be phoneless for a couple days.

I charged my phone and no luck. I tried to reboot, restart, all the above that Google suggested. Nothing.

This was the last thing I needed. Like I had shared before, I’m on a 2 week vacation break from work. It’s the preschool’s “summer break” before school starts up again. I planned to use this time to give myself a break- after the Portland trip I planned to sleep in as long as I wanted to, hangout with my boo and friends, workout if I felt like it, start my graduation scrapbook, but most importantly, write.

I’ve long anticipated this break. I couldn’t wait until the Portland trip, and then doing all the things I listed above. My phone is so crucial to my writing. When I decided I was going to be posting every week, I whipped out my laptop, covered in a thin layer of dust since it’s been tucked away in my bed stand since I used it last. And that was in April for my Women Gender Studies Conference prep. Before that, I haven’t used my laptop since I turned in that last final in the middle of December. Let’s just say once I graduated I kicked my laptop to the curb. But when I decided in July that I HAVE to make my blog a consistent thing, I took out that dusty lil thang and expected to start writing right away.

BUT. OF. FUCKING. COURSE… there’s something wrong with it. It was dead, so I plugged it in, and noticed after about 30 minutes that its plugged in but not even charging. The moment I unplugged the chord from the laptop, it died. After many tests and theories, I concluded that the only way to use my laptop is to have it be plugged into the wall the whole time and have it be on “0% not charging.” The moment I unplug the laptop, it’s dead. Given I’ve had the laptop for 6 years, I knew it was probably time to replace it. I planned on taking it somewhere to get it fixed, but didn’t really get around to it since I had the WordPress app on my phone. I figured until I save up money to get a new laptop, I’d just be writing my blog posts from my phone. Which was going well, until Goldie the Galaxy died on me.

The next day, I went with my cousin, my Ate Nina, to get my phone looked at. I told her that I’ve had the phone for basically 3.5 years, and I was so sad it was dead. She hit me with the “duh” it’s dead, it’s old as hell. But that’s the thing with me. I use my shit until it dies, literally. Same goes for my laptop, my shoes, my makeup, whatever it may be, I use that shit until I know it’s time to be retired. And even then I will fuss about how I need to replace it/ try to save it.

We went to the mall, and the guy in the stand didn’t even bother to look at good ‘ol faithful, Goldie. How rude. I explained to him that she’s not dead dead, for she stays on the “system rebooting” blue screen / galaxy black screen until she dies. So to me, there was still hope to revive my beloved. He looked at me, “Yeah. Its fried. There’s no fixing it, you just need a new phone. Sorry.” How he dare? In my head I was thinking, “Put some respect on her name, and give her a chance! At least try!”

So we went into the AT&T store in the mall, and I asked if they would take a look at her. The lady said they couldn’t do anything about it, and the only way I can maybe save it is if I call customer service, preferably “from that phone.” Me and Ate Nina looked at her like…. bruh… how?! Its fucking dead! I called customer service from the AT&T store, overwhelmed that ma baby girl of 3.5 years is probably dead dead and I had to go through the grieving process. I hung up the phone with customer service frustrated, “fuck it I’m just gonna get a new phone,” I said.

I planned to buy a new phone right then and there since I needed a phone so bad. It died on Tuesday, and here we were Wednesday trying to get a replacement. “Well if I’m gonna get a new phone, I might as well get the newest one so I can use it for over 3 years until it dies again,” I sadly joked. I usually stalk a product I want online until I decide to buy it. I need to do a thorough research, consisting of rating online, product reviews, but most importantly unboxings and comparisons on YouTube for days on end. All of which, I didn’t do. And honestly, it didn’t matter because the lady said I would need my mom to be there with me to make a purchase since she’s the main person on the account. So that meant I would have to live phoneless until Saturday. Honestly, first world problems. But the fact that I didn’t have a working phone wasn’t the only reason why I was trippin’.

It was because for months I planned out how I would use this 2 week break. Not having a phone ruined all of those plans. I could only get in contact with people through Instagram, and only if I had WiFi, because I was using my old phone before Goldie. I planned to use this 2 week break to write multiple posts to archive for later, since I would have so much free time. And I couldn’t do that laptopless and phoneless. The old phone I was using with WiFi was so old that it only let me have 3 updated apps. Hahahaha. When I tried to update Facebook Messenger it told me to delete 1 of the 3 apps I had. 🤣 Its funny now, but at the moment I was like bruh, whyyyyyyyyyyyy. And on top of that it took about 3.5 hours to fully charge, but lasted less than 4 hrs off of the charger.

“I hate change,” I told Ate Nina.

“Yeah, bitch, I could tell just from today with your phone!” She laughed. The rest of the day I just kept making phone references and how sad I was that Goldie was done for.

That opened up the topic of “change.” Ate Nina told me that she struggled with change, but quickly had to adjust because of her job. She said something along the lines of, “Bitch, I’m 35 and I’m just now getting used to change. If anything, get used to it now.”

That’s one thing I always noticed about myself. I do not do well with change. On the outside, it probably seems like I deal with change well, but internally it brings me turmoil. I like structure. I like planning things out. I like things done a certain way. I’m not saying I’m hella nitpicky and annoyingly controlling, but it’s more so just having to do with me, myself. Things that I know I can control in my life.

For example, something that just happened this morning. Me and Justine planned to workout everyday this week at 5:30 am. I mentally prepared myself for this the night before, making my preworkout so I could just grab and go the next morning. This morning I woke up at 5 am and got ready for the gym. “I’m awake.” I texted Justine. No answer. We used to gym early mornings back in the day, so I knew I had to call her until she woke up because she probably snoozed her alarm. I think I called 4 times. No answer. By 5:20 am I gave up and went back to sleep. But I was feeling antsy because I had already planned to go to the gym. And it’s all I could think about. I drifted off to sleep, and woke up around 9 am. I was so stuck on the fact that I planned to go to the gym but didn’t go. So I walked to the gym from my house, worked out for about an hour and 45 minutes, and walked back home. In this sense, I guess my stubbornness was a good thing, because I got a workout in. But a lot of the times it’s not in my favor.

In this specific instance with Goldie the Galaxy dying, changing my plans after planning it out months in advance is what got me like FML. I’ve noticed that I resist change, but once I get a hang of the change, I’m totally fine with it! I feel like it’s all mental. Like the thought of something new is scary because I don’t know what to expect. But I always end up chillin’ at the end of it all, and adjusting well. This is probably something about myself that most people don’t notice. I told Ate Nina in terms of my job, I don’t think I show that change bothers me. I wouldn’t even say “bother” is the right word for it either. More like an “ohhhh I was expecting this to happen today, but instead, change of plans, this is happening.” When it comes to work and there’s change, of course I have no choice but to go along with it and be a team player. If I have no choice but to go with the change, that’s when I accept it. But if its within my own life and my own personal changes that I have to do, that’s when I get annoying as hell and I resist.

I don’t know why I’m like this. I think I’ve always been like this to an extent, but I really started to notice it when I graduated college. The fact that there is no right or wrong path to take now, it’s like I’m at a crossroads. In terms of career, location, growth, it all scares me. I’m at the point in my life where I have to make moves, but the moves scare me and I’m so afraid to disrupt my routine that I stay stagnant. I come from a long line of worriers. But all this worrying really isn’t benefiting me in any way, its just really adding unnecessary stress to myself. I really struggle with where I should start my career.

Don’t even get me started with location! I’ve never moved before. All I know is Daly City/ San Francisco, Bay Area! But I know for a fact that my ass can’t afford it here if I were to branch out on my own and leave the nest. Yo, that’s a whole ass other thing too. In Filipino culture, we value the whole family dynamic. Usually, if you’re moving out, its because your ass got married and you’re starting your own life. And even then, you don’t stray too far from home. I’m talkin’ the same city or a few cities over from where you grew up. And in some instances, if you’re married, staying at home isn’t that frowned upon. In western culture, staying home with your parents as an adult is looked at negatively. In Filipino culture, it’s what you do, it’s not unusual. If anything, it’s preferred so someone is there to take care of the parents. We don’t put our elders in nursing homes. We stay with them and live with them, and cater to them as they get older. So thinking of a life outside of the Bay Area terrifies me more than I can even imagine. But I know for a fact I need to branch out and should experience living in different places before I have a whole ass family of my own.

It’s like I know what needs to be done to be successful, but the resistance to change is what will be my set back. I can play with the big dogs, I can speak with my chest, I can work hard for the things I want, but my fear of change is what will forever hold me back.

It’s really hard for me to think in terms of things changing. Like if I were to move away, the thought of us not living together as a family would make me super sad. Even though I know it’s going to happen eventually, it just makes me sad. Probably the fact that I know that it means we’re getting older. And that means living your own life. And that everything won’t be as family oriented as it once was. And that makes me sad as hell! I’m a very sentimental person, thinking of the future makes me excited but at the same time sad. The fact that I can’t rewind and have these moments again makes me want to cling on to what I “know” more.

But like I said, once the change happens I’m like haaaaaaa, yaaaaa, it was for the better. But of course it’s always after the fact. Change is scary as fuck. But its inevitable. Things never stay as they are. Everything is constantly changing and evolving. I resist change as if I can do something to stop it. But let’s be real, change is gonna happen with or without me. The death of Goldie the Galaxy made realize that I need to work on accepting change. Even though I knew that all along, this situation amplified the need for me to get it together.

Something as small (but not really small lol) as the death of my phone made me realize a big flaw in myself that needs workin’ on. So here’s to change, may we not resist it. Hahaha.

Omg, this whole fucking post just kept reminding me of that song by First Lady when she’s like “you say you’re not okay with chaaaaaangeeee,” and it’s so annoying because I know nobody will get that fucking reference because it was such an underground song in like 2002 🤣🤣🤣