I just love it when a simple, yet brilliant, epiphany comes my way.

A few years ago while working as an academic advisor, I met with a student who was frustrated with the fact that they had to meet with me in order to register for next semester’s classes. I recall saying something along the lines of, “I’m sorry, but you have an advising hold on your account because you are on academic probation and there are some requirements you have to meet…”. As the student rolled their eyes at me I suddenly realized,

I’m not actually sorry. So why did I say I was?

It was then I realized that I needed to make a small, but revolutionary change:

I will no longer say sorry, unless I am apologizing for something I have actually done wrong.

Surprisingly, making the change was relatively easy. In fact, it was downright liberating. I am not actually sorry when I ask someone to do me a favor. I am not actually sorry when I tell my children “no” to something they want. I am not actually sorry when I tell a student something they need to know, but don’t want to hear. I have empathy, but I am not sorry – and that’s a big difference.

I also realized that I could omit the “sorry” while still being polite and authentic – a win win! It felt great to say things like, “I understand this is frustrating for you, and here is what I can do to help”, or “thank you for helping me with that task; I know it seems like it was menial, but it was tremendously helpful for this project”.

As clever as I feel about this revelation, it turns out this was already an established thing. A friend of mine helped with a quick Google search, showing me there is plenty of science backing it up. Put simply, because our brains have taken so long to evolve, but language evolved relatively recently, we still react on a primal, neurological level when it comes to word choice; so our word choice really does matter. There are also plenty of opinion pieces and business-related blogs advocating for everyone – especially women – to stop apologizing.

This may seem dramatic to some out there, but I do think removing so many “sorry’s” from my vocabulary has made me a better feminist. After all, why did I feel the need to be so accommodating all the time? I don’t hear men constantly saying, “I’m sorry”, so why should I? The minor change I implemented even made an impact at home; it feels like I’m showing my daughters how to be confident with their words, which also helps support my focal point.

Since omitting “I’m sorry” was such an instant success, I figured I should take a look at any other self-defeating vocabulary I was guilty of using, and it hit me pretty quick:

Instead of saying, “I can’t”, I should say, “I don’t” or “I won’t”.

I’m not going to lie to you, this one hurt a bit more. Specifically, when it came to my goal of losing weight, I realized I had been using “I can’t” as a vehicle to make excuses for why I was making choices that put me further and further away from reaching my health goals.

Transparency with myself was key; rather than saying, “I couldn’t swim laps yesterday morning because I had a meeting at 9am I needed to prep for”, I tried saying, “I didn’t swim laps yesterday because I chose not to plan ahead”. Ouch.

Changing my vocabulary has forced me to be honest with myself. I could be further along in my health goal, but I make choices some days which prevent me from moving forward. Clearly getting physically healthier is going to be a long road ahead with many ups and downs, but at least I can approach my successes and challenges with clarity of mind, and voice.

So on that note, I leave you with this thought experiment:

How would changing your vocabulary, internally or externally, help you move toward your goals?

Nurse: “Congratulations Mrs. Freedman, there’s two in there!”

*awkward amount of silence*

Liz: “Um…are you…serious?”

Nurse: “Yep!”

*Nick bursts into nervous laughter*

*Liz stares blankly*

This was the moment I found out I was pregnant with twins. At this point I only had a few weeks left in my first trimester, and my brain was in a state of constant flurry. I thought, every pregnant woman has concerns about miscarriage, but I had twice the chance, right? They labeled me a high risk pregnancy and scheduled extra ultrasounds – is that bad? We would need to buy two of…everything?

So needless to say, when I found out it was twins, it was pretty hard to focus on just about anything else.

That is, until week 20. The moment came in which we would get to learn the sex of the babies. I pride myself on not really caring too much about this, and I vowed to raise my children relatively gender neutral regardless of the results…but I also craved having just one less thing to wonder about. There is just so much to wonder during this time, and for a thought experimenter like me, that. is. exhausting.

I was startled, yet oddly fascinated by everyone’s opinions. I heard that two boys would be crazy for the first several years, but the teenage years would be better. Two girls would be easier at first, but awful during their teenage years. I was most often told that boy and a girl would be ideal because then I have one of each and our family would be complete.

I know people meant well, but ugh. Wouldn’t it be nice to stop putting people in boxes before they are even born? Ok, stepping off my soapbox now.   

The clutter in my brain became overwhelming. For weeks I envisioned what life would be like depending on what answers we received. I also wondered if it would make any difference at all. After all, I was lucky enough to have two healthy babies in me, so that was really all I cared about.

Nick could not attend the ultrasound appointment, so I brought home the results in an envelope. As I drove it sat next to me on the passenger seat. There was such precious information in it I almost felt the need to buckle it in.

When Nick finally got home that evening we each took one of the papers and revealed it to the other. The resounding answer was clear: two girls.

This will be a surprise to absolutely no one who knows us, but Nick had more nervous laughter – and sincere joy – but I went inward, falling silent. Right in that moment it became crystal clear in my mind:

My sole mission in life was to raise two resilient, hardworking, curious women.

I knew that everything I do from that point forward better move me one step closer to fulfilling that mission, or else I will have failed. I asked myself, am I resilient, hardworking, and curious? I think I am, but how do I know? Don’t I need to embody those qualities if I want to teach them to someone else?

I figured that to succeed in this mission, I need to be the very best version of myself. Therefore, something as simple as a personal goal of reading four books for fun by the end of the year is just as crucial as my goal of earning a PhD one day. Both of these goals make me a better version of Liz, so both of these goals meet the needs of my singular focus.

Since that time my mission has remained the same, and I have realized that having a focal point has positive effects when it comes to decision making, clearing my mind, and achieving my goals. Every now and then I find myself faced with a choice: Should I apply to that job? Should I earn a PhD? Should I pay for a personal trainer? Previously, I would get lost in thought dwelling over decisions like these – and don’t get me wrong, I still spend too much time thinking more often than not – but the time and effort spent now is considerably more productive than it was before.

When presented with multiple opportunities I simply ask myself, which one will support my effort of raising these two young women in the way I hope? Once I do that, the answers become pretty clear.

On that cute note, I leave you with these thought experiments:

How might having a focal point help you achieve your goals?

Do you need more mental clarity to help you achieve your goals?