Count how many times you say sorry in a day.
Sorry for arriving. Sorry for asking. Sorry for having an opinion. Sorry for taking up space in the queue, in the conversation, in the room. Sorry for existing out loud.
These aren't real apologies. They're reflexes. They're the way your body found to say: I know I shouldn't be here, but I am, and I'm asking forgiveness for that.
Where it comes from
It comes from homes where girls were good when they were quiet. Where having needs meant being a burden. Where the woman who didn't get in the way was the woman who was loved.
And you learned it so well that now the sorry comes out before you think. It's automatic. It's muscular. It's in your body like a survival reflex you no longer need.
What happens when you stop
When you stop apologising for existing, you open space for something else: presence. You walk into a room and you stay. You say what you think and you stay. You take up space and you stay.
And the people around you don't pull back. They fall in line. Because a woman who doesn't apologise for being there is a woman who conveys something rare: I know I belong here.
The woman who no longer apologises for existing didn't become arrogant. She became free.