A few years ago, a friend I was speaking to told me she was struggling with how to own her story. She was looking for a job after a three-year gap in her resume, time she had taken off to care for her mom who had dementia. As I listened to her, what struck me was how apologetically she was talking about it.

She was ashamed of the gap and was looking for the right way to frame it.

As I read through her resume, I saw someone who managed her own life while navigating hospital visits, therapy, full time care, made impossible decisions, and kept another human dignified through one of life’s hardest transitions.

After all of that, she was talking about it as a liability that needed explaining away.

That gap wasn’t the problem. Her apology for it was.

Managing your story

We learn early that some parts of us are acceptable and some aren’t. We get into a habit of apologising preemptively. We frame our mess as something temporary, something we’ve overcome, something we’re past.

We keep the professional veneer, the polished version that doesn’t make people uncomfortable.

I did this for years. I had the education, the credentials, the successful practice. What I didn’t talk about was the first year when I wasn’t sure I could pay rent, about how many times I thought about quitting because I felt I didn’t belong, about how drained I’d be after client sessions, wondering if I was actually helping anyone.

I told myself I was being professional. What I was actually doing was fracturing myself – constantly monitoring which version to be, who was in the room, what was safe to say. My mind and body never rested. I was always on.

The exhaustion isn’t from the work. It’s from managing yourself.

Ownership is freedom

My friend eventually learned to stop apologising for that gap in her career. It took her time. A lot of time. She had to notice every time she was about to do it, every time she was about to soften the story or add context that didn’t belong there. She had to catch herself mid-sentence and just… not apologise.

And then one day, she was just talking about it. No apology. No explanation. Just what happened. She said she’d managed complex care for three years and it taught her something about patience and impossible decisions. She let the gap speak for itself.

In interviews, she spoke and didn’t wait for the room to catch up. In meetings, she disagreed without softening it. She made a decision and moved. No checking people’s faces. No internal negotiation.

That’s what freedom looks like. It’s not louder or flashier. It’s just… unhurried. The absence of someone constantly managing themselves.

Your messes made you

The year you were depressed. The business that failed. The marriage that fell apart. The job you got fired from. The time you didn’t know what you were doing.

You already know these things changed you. You know they made you capable of things other people aren’t. You know your rough patches are exactly what gave you resilience, clarity, perspective.

So why are you still apologising for them like they’re evidence against you?

You’re not hiding your mess because you think it’s weak. You’re hiding it because people don’t trust the raw version. They trust it once you’ve already survived it and turned it into something you learned from.

And so you polish it too, even though you know better.

Own it all

Your failures. Your rough patches. Your mess. The parts you’ve been hiding because you thought they made you less than.

Own your story. Own your past, your mistakes, your detours. Tell your story plainly and watch what leaves and what stays.

Stop spending your energy on the constant internal commentary.

Stop apologising for having lived.