Hey, You’re Incredible: A Note On Reassurance

Today, I watched a woman apologize for existing.

Not in any dramatic way. Not in a way that would make headlines or inspire outrage. It happened quietly, in the corner of a nail salon during a routine pedicure.

About halfway through my appointment, an older woman walked in. She seemed a little flustered and immediately began apologizing.

She apologized for not knowing what color she wanted.

She apologized for asking questions.

She apologized for taking up time.

She apologized for looking through too many options.

She apologized for needing help.

Then she apologized some more.

The staff couldn’t have been kinder. They pulled colors, held bottles up for her, tested shades, and reassured her that it was perfectly fine to take her time. Still, she seemed convinced that every minute she occupied was a burden to someone else.

Eventually she turned to me and asked about gel polish. We chatted about the pros and cons.

She told me she was leaving for Italy on Tuesday to attend a wedding with a friend. We talked about colors. The staff tested several options before she finally found one she liked.

And then, in the middle of all this apologizing, she mentioned that when she was younger, she had backpacked across Europe for two months.

Two months.

Alone.

Across Europe.

I sat there thinking about the contrast.

How does someone go from being the kind of person who throws a backpack over their shoulder and navigates foreign countries to someone who feels guilty for taking ten extra minutes to choose a nail color?

The answer, I think, is that life slowly teaches many of us to shrink.

Particularly women.

We learn to be accommodating. Efficient. Low maintenance. Easygoing.

We learn not to inconvenience people.

Not to ask too many questions.

Not to take up too much time.

Not to be difficult.

Not to need help.

We become so practiced at making ourselves smaller that eventually we start apologizing for our own presence.

What I wanted to tell her—and what I think many of us need to hear—is this:

You are allowed to take up space.

You are allowed to be uncertain.

You are allowed to ask questions.

You are allowed to need a minute.

You are allowed to change your mind.

You are allowed to occupy a little room in the world without apologizing for it.

The beautiful thing is that the woman sitting in that salon chair didn’t need confidence from me. She already had it.

The evidence was right there.

A woman who had crossed countries with a backpack already knew how to be brave. A woman boarding a plane to Italy next week already knew how to embrace adventure. The capable, courageous version of herself hadn’t disappeared.

She was still there.

Maybe she had simply forgotten.

Sometimes that’s all reassurance really is—not giving someone something they don’t have, but reminding them of what has been theirs all along.

As she finally settled on a color and relaxed into her appointment, I found myself thinking about how many people move through the world carrying invisible apologies.

For speaking.

For asking.

For needing.

For existing.

And I hope we can remind each other, whenever possible, that we don’t have to earn our right to be here.

Take your time.

Ask the question.

Choose the color.

Book the trip.

Tell the story.

Take up your space.

You already have everything you need.