Definition: The compulsive urge to apologize for existing, breathing, or occupying space within a 10-mile radius of another human being, even when you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. Often rooted in deep-seated anxiety, people-pleasing trauma, or growing up in households where “I’m sorry” was a survival tactic against passive-aggressive landmines. Sufferers weaponize politeness, turning self-effacement into an Olympic sport where gold medals are awarded for taking blame for meteor showers or global recessions. This habit creates a vicious cycle: the more you apologize, the smaller you become, until you’re essentially a sentient doormat with existential dread. It’s social lubricant turned emotional acid, dissolving boundaries and convincing your psyche you deserve less oxygen. Workplace dynamics crumble under its weight—colleagues exploit your auto-apologies to dump grunt work on you, while romantic partners start believing you actually did forget to water their emotional support cactus. The tragedy? It trains people to treat your boundaries like optional decor rather than load-bearing walls. Breaking free requires replacing “sorry” with absurdist declarations like “I regret nothing, especially not this awkward silence!”
Example: When Karen’s shopping cart grazed Brent’s heel, he immediately gasped “Sorry for existing near your groceries!”
Later, he apologized to his cat for “breathing too loudly during your nap, Your Majesty.”