How I Stopped Apologizing for Existing

What fears have you overcome and how?

You ever live your life like you’re constantly tiptoeing around a landmine field? That was me. For years. I was married for 17 years — and during that time, I don’t think I ever took a full breath. Anything I did or said could set her off. I wasn’t being abused or anything dramatic like that, but it was this constant tension. Like no matter what, I was wrong. I was too loud. Too quiet. Not helpful enough. Too involved. Smiling at the wrong time. Breathing too heavy. You get the picture.

So I adapted. I shut down. I got small. I became this guy who just wanted to avoid conflict, avoid rocking the boat. And in doing that, I kind of erased myself. Stopped talking. Stopped laughing. Stopped being me. I was insecure as hell, around everyone. Like if I spoke up, people would get mad. If I shared an opinion, it would somehow be the wrong one. Even in regular everyday situations — at work, with friends — I was always second-guessing myself. Like I was programmed to believe I was just naturally “too much” or “not enough.”

Then the divorce happened.

And I won’t pretend like I bounced back instantly. At first, I was just numb. No clue who I was anymore, or what the hell I was supposed to do with myself. But then… something unexpected happened.

I met my current wife.

And damn — she lit a fire under me. Not the mushy “saved me” kind of thing. I mean she reminded me who I actually was. That loud Gen X, sarcastic, slightly-too-honest dude who used to throw up a solid middle finger to the world and say, “I am who I am — deal with it.” I’d forgotten that guy existed. I buried him under years of people-pleasing and self-doubt.

But she saw him. And she called him out.

She made space for me to talk, to screw up, to laugh too loud again. She challenged me. She encouraged me. And little by little, the insecurity started to fade. I started to feel… normal. Strong. Funny again. And free.

Now? I’m not walking on eggshells anymore. Hell, I’m stomping around in boots.

I speak up. I say what I think. I’m not scared of upsetting people just by existing. And you know what? That confidence doesn’t just feel good — it feels earned. Hard-won. I fought for it.

So yeah, insecurity was a beast I battled for years. But thanks to the right person — and honestly, thanks to getting out of the wrong situation — I got my voice back. My swagger. My “f**k it, I’m good” attitude.

And I’m never losing that again.