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The Unspoken Apology: Living Under the Weight of Justifying My Choices
There’s something strange I’ve noticed about myself lately: the feeling that I always need to explain my choices. Take this as an example—I would post on social media about how tight money was (and is), and how I’m pinching pennies to ensure we have the essentials covered. And then, maybe a few days later, I would post about a new board game my son and I bought, something small to bring us joy. Instantly, I felt the need to explain how we saved up for it, how it’s something we planned for, how I didn’t irresponsibly blow money we couldn’t afford to spend. But here’s the thing—I rarely see anyone else doing this. So why do I feel the need to?
It’s not like anyone is demanding an explanation from me (well, most of the time). Yet, even before the questions come, my brain runs through all the possible judgments, criticisms, or misunderstandings someone might have. I prepare for the inevitable moment someone asks, “I thought you said you were struggling?” It bothers me more than I’d like to admit when people question my choices, even when I feel I’ve already explained them. It’s like a reflex—this drive to explain myself before anyone has the chance to judge. But why? What am I apologizing for?
There’s a part of me that thinks this habit is tied to social media. We curate our lives for the world to see, but in doing so, we also open the door for scrutiny. Everyone can see what I post (up until I disconnected)—my complaints, my struggles, my little joys. And so, I feel this pressure to make sure my story makes sense to others. If I say I’m having financial troubles but then share something that looks like an indulgence, it feels like I’m breaking the script. I feel like I have to justify the purchase or my actions, even if it’s just something small that brought a bit of happiness to me or my son.
It’s not just about finances, either. This need to explain myself trickles into all sorts of decisions—how I spend my time, what I do for fun, and the choices I make as a parent. There’s this deep-rooted fear of being judged, of being misunderstood. Maybe it’s the fear of being seen as a hypocrite, of people thinking I’m not consistent with what I say. Or maybe it’s the feeling that I don’t measure up to other people’s ideals, that if I don’t explain myself, people will think poorly of me. It’s exhausting to always feel like I’m in defense mode, just waiting for someone to point out something I didn’t fully explain.
But it’s not just about others judging me. Sometimes, I think it’s about me judging myself. Am I really apologizing for spending a little money on something we enjoy? Or am I apologizing for the fact that I don’t live up to some impossible standard, one I never agreed to in the first place? It’s as if I’ve internalized this belief that I’m always supposed to struggle, and if I do something nice for myself or my son, I have to justify why we “deserve” it. But why? Do I really owe anyone an explanation?
It’s frustrating, though, because I don’t think most people feel the need to explain themselves like this. I see people posting about their vacations, their new purchases, and their day-to-day lives without the need to add a disclaimer. Meanwhile, I’m here adding footnotes to my own life, constantly thinking about how others might interpret what I say. I don’t want to come across as someone who doesn’t care about the realities of my financial situation—or worse, someone who is being dishonest about it. But is that really what this is about? Or am I just afraid of how others will perceive me?
I wonder what it would feel like to stop explaining myself. Would I feel a sense of freedom if I just let go of this need to justify my every move? Would I be able to post about that new board game without the urge to say, “But don’t worry, we budgeted for it”? It’s strange to think that something as simple as choosing not to explain myself could feel like rebellion. But in a world where everything is shared and everything is judged, maybe choosing not to explain is the ultimate act of reclaiming my life.
I’m not sure if I can stop. This need to explain feels so ingrained, almost second nature. But maybe I can start small—by allowing myself to make choices without feeling like I need to apologize for them. Maybe, over time, I’ll be able to break free from this habit. Or maybe I’ll just learn to care less about what others think. Either way, I’m beginning to realize that I don’t owe anyone an explanation. And maybe, just maybe, I can find peace in that.
