STORY 3- Sorry I peed on you.

Nine years ago, on my first ever working holiday experience, I moved to Scotland. I remember landing and thinking, oh hot dam I can not wait to hear that accent and get a taste for the local cuisine. To my disappointment all I met were Australians. Australians working at the hostel, Australians living at the hostel, Australians everywhere I went in town when. The Australians at the hostel, which were plaguing up my Scottish experience, actually became my new international family and friends. They made moving into and living the hostel a fun and pleasnt experience.

Living in a hostel was a great I had never lived in such a community setting before. People were always there to talk to, hang out with and share knowledge and experiences. Most were passing on their knowledge to me; I was still learning how to spread my wings and fly. We called the hostel the ‘hotel California’, a lovely place and you never really had to leave. It had everything in there, cafe, movie room, bar and a great view of a lake. Each night the bar was well used and yes I’m not kidding each, and every night. I still wonder how we managed to do any site seeing or get our butts to work with the amount of drinking we did. One particular evening the party vibe was going off, and we were getting wild and silly. We danced on tables, sang to the music and shared stories of our travels and home towns. One person, who I had been chatting to for a few hours, came up with a ‘great idea’ and decided we should do a bull run. The game consisted of him and me charging at each other with our fingers by our temples sticking out like horns. This guy I would like to add was six foot something, built like a rugby player, well actually he was a rugby player, charged head to head at one another. Needless to say, the tall guy won the battle, and I ended up with a black eye.

As the night pressed on more and more alcohol was consumed, and the flirting between tall guys and I had picked up. Wobbly legged and barely hanging on to reality, the tall guy and I stumbled, hand in hand, up to his shared dorm room. We, not so gracefully, crawled up to his top bunk and passed out. I woke the next morning with a groggy brain, thoughts shit what room am I in and a splitting headache. I sheepishly climbed out of his bunk and took my sorry ass back to my room. I was in the process of getting into my pyjamas when I realised my jeans were soaked. A hot rush of panic coursed through my body. I pulled off my jeans and smelt the wet areas; my worst fear became a reality, yep urine. Shame, embarrassment, more panic and anxiety hit me all at once. I couldn’t believe I had peed in the tall guy’s bed.

I was pacing around my room, thoughts of oh fuck what do I do now. I cant see these people again; oh wait I have to, they live here too. Should I move away, do I go up and acknowledge what I did and apologise. What he confronts me, will he tell the whole hostel? Does his room smell of musty urine, OMG he now has to sleep in a pee-soaked bed! The endless inner dialogue continued to play over and over and over in my brain. I was humiliated, instantly traumatised and too mortified to show my face around the hostel. So I did what any other average person would do, I hid out of sight for a few days, I needed to let the dust settle. A few people around the hostel did find out, the story was shared, and some gossip began to spread. There were a couple of under the breath digs threw my way; however, I was amazed that the majority of people did not get involved in the inevitable scalding I should have endured. No one went out of their way to humiliate me, take the piss out of me (pun intended) or try to run me out with embarrassment. The tall guy left the hostel shortly after; we never saw or heard from him again. You could say I washed him right out of town.

Still riddled with the embarrassment and shame today, I share this story now so I can apologise.

Tall guy, I’m so sorry I drank way too much (again) that night. I’m sorry that the intoxication led me to do such a disgraceful act. I’m sorry for being so emabarrassed I couldnt confront you and left to clean up what I had done.

I also want to express some thanks, from my end, it seemed like you spared my feelings (I could be completely wrong). Even though we never spoke again, you never went out of your way to punish me for what I did. For that I, thank you.

I apologise.

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STORY 2- From deep within the vault, a true confession.

This confession I have never shared, no one has ever heard this story. I’m sharing this story now because in the spirit of honesty, soul cleansing and this conscience clearing experiment, I felt this story needed to come out of the vault. This blog is my journal, and I’m hoping that sharing this will help me to begin to forgive myself for the terrible choices I made in my past.

Roughly five years ago, I made a horrible judgement call, one decision that, to this day, still haunts me. I have never been able to forgive myself for the choices I made that day. I was in Canada, enjoying my first winter season employed at a local mountain. At the time, I was in a relationship, though we were doing long distance as he was with a mutual friend at another resort. The season started fantastically; I was getting loads of work, progressing in my career at that time and had made lots of new friends, some of which I’m still best mates with today.

This story really begins with my first encounter with the tall English guy. One morning I was standing in a team huddle hearing listening to the morning meeting. Next thing I know I hear a whisper in my ear. He, the tall English guy, has lent in and said: “I have this urge to push you over”. I remember just laughing and thinking, well no one has ever said that to me before. As random as that comment was, he managed to get what he wanted out of it, my attention. My next encounter with the tall English lad was while I was running around panicked. I had accidentally given a child, who was gluten intolerant, a cookie (found out later they weren’t, so they were fine). I ran down to the kitchen, and while I was asking about the ingredients, he hugged me to reassure me that that is was okay. I heard him sniff my hair while I was in his embrace. Me being me I asked him about it, he shrugged it off as if he hadn’t done it. You would think by this stage I would have understood that these were his childish games of flirting. By the third encounter, I got the message loud and clear; he was flirting with me. The tall English guy was leaving on a road trip. On his departure from our staff locker room, he turned and hugged me goodbye. The hug included a whisper of farewell and a squeeze of my butt. The next day I arrived at work and went to put my work boots on. Inside one of the works boots was a letter, yes it was from him. The message read “Ill miss you, XXXX”. By this stage, I was in full understanding that there was flirting going on, that was now hard to miss. I was officially sucked in by his charm; we were chatting and texting each day; I was now a willing participant in the whole charade. So much so I was starting to form feelings for him.

The flirting transformed into much more when he returned from his trip. One night in the laundry room (we lived in the same building), I’m still unsure how he managed to do this, the lights turned off while we were chatting and folding our laundry. When they flicked off, he walked towards me, gently placed his hands on my hips and pulled me in and kissed me. I remember our hands navigating each other’s bodies like we were searching for clues from one another. My heart was racing, and legs were trembling I recall feeling a rush of adrenaline shoot through my body. This kiss was the most intense thing I had ever felt. Mostly because of the fact I still had a boyfriend.

Said boyfriend come out to visit a few weeks later. Now by this stage, our relationship was already becoming rocky. And no its not just for the obvious reasons. Let me just put it this way, long-distance suck and is extremely hard. I’m impressed by any couple who makes it through to the other side. While the boyfriend was out on his visit, there was tension between us. I could feel our time had come to an end. The break up had been brewing for a couple of months, and we had mutually decided to break up while he was out on the trip. However, the night before we officially broke up, there was a staff party. I went, the boyfriend didn’t feel like coming along. The free drinks were flowing, and everyone had the best night dancing, chatting and laughing. At the end of the evening and when I was all liquored up, I headed home with a friend. While on the bus back home, I received a message from the tall English lad. He asked to meet me at his apartment. Me full of liquid stupidity went, not only went to his place but into his bedroom. We hung out chatted, kissed and cuddled for a few hours until we fell asleep.
I woke the next day and ran down the hall to my apartment, where the boyfriend greeted me. I had to lie and say there was a group of us chatting to al hours, and I had fallen asleep on the couch. I was still wearing English lads jumper. It didn’t take me long to decide I wanted to walk back down the hall; I had intended to return the jumper. Next minute I’m back in the room, more than the jumper off. At that moment, I made the worst mistake ever. I chose to sleep with another man while my current man was right down the hall. I left feeling sick and distraught, mortified at the choice I just made. I never knew I was capable of such a thing. The only right thing to do was to, in my head, break up with the boyfriend and let him leave without being double hurt. A breakup with a cheating scandal was not how I wanted to end things. Selfish, I know, but I felt like I was protecting him.

I got swept up in those moments and allowed myself to lose my morals and standards. I willingly participated in flirting and allowed that flirting to evolved into something more. I practised no self respect or respect for others peoples feelings. I lost my true self, and others had to suffer for my lack of judgement. My choice and my actions were appalling. I have hated myself for doing what is I did for the longest time. Its time I apologise.

To the boyfriend at the time, I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you, I’m sorry I did what I did to you behind your back. I’m sorry I treated you with such disrespect, you deserved so much better from me. The time we had together, I still hold and cherish deep in my heart, and I wish I never did what I did. You are a genuinely beautiful person, and I hope that you no one ever does that to you again.
You will never know how deeply sorry I am.

I apologise.

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STORY 1- My most recent, alcohol-related, fuckup

With the number of memories shooting through my brain, there are so many apologies I wish to make. It’s hard to know where to start in my endeavour for forgiveness. I guess the most practical would be to start with the most recent event, the one that has triggered this whole horrific trip through memory lane and sparked my quest for a clear conscience and cleansed soul.

A couple of weeks ago I organised for myself and three friends to head to a gig. I had been looking forward to this for weeks; this was my college break gift to myself. I had spent the next week shopping for the perfect outfit to wear, organising my next day survival (hangover) kit and staying out of mischief, so I was full of energy the night of the gig. My friend and I drove to where the concert was and check into our hotel. Once settled in we took it upon ourselves to start the ‘weekend festivities’, which I’m now realising was a little too early in the day. One drink here, one drink there and another two cocktails later, I was already on my way to the back out express…. it was 4 pm.

By 6.30pm, we left the hotel room all dolled up and ready for the night out. By this stage, I was a little too ready, meaning this is where the night goes blank for me. I recall being a dinner for a short moment, and parts of the gig, then dancing at some drag show. The next thing I know Im awake back in the hotel room and in desperate need of some water.

While trying to wake up, it had not yet dawned on me that the night just been is limited in its details. But luckily for me, I have a great friend who tells me I owe them more than a sip of my water for putting up with my shit last night. At that very moment the smile leaves my face, and my heart sinks, this is where I realise oh fuck, I’ve done it again. I have over drank and can’t remember a goddam thing.

Here are the parts I missed………
– Stumbling while trying to walk around the city
– Endlessly kicking the seat in front of me at the gig. When asked to stop, I felt it was appropriate to tell her and her friends to fuck off and mind their business?!?!?
– Using the poor guy next to me a recliner/ arm to lean on, much to his girlfriend’s disgust and frustrations.
– Abusively told my friend that they are a CUNT if they didn’t carry me home because my feet hurt.
– I attempted to chuck someone’s bike in the river.
– Tried to drink popcorn (I guess I thought it was a drink) unfortunately I ended up showering myself in it instead.

My friend proceeds to tell me that there could have been a good chance that I could of A) Got in to a fight, which in my state I would have clearly lost. B) Got kicked out as security was watching me all night and C) Potently arrested after I tried to discard of someones property in the river.

Now, these are just the things that were shared with me. I’m sure there are many other things my friends are not disclosing of the night to help shield me from the truth. For that I thank them, It was becoming increasinly hard. to listent to.

Embarrassed, mortified, regretful, shame, so much shame is what I was and still am feeling. I wish the night had not gotten away from me. I wish I saw the gig i was at.

Since that night, I have struggled to make contact with my friends. I have apologised to them all individually. I am amazed that they all said ‘hey it’s ok, we all have these nights at some point’. Even though they have excepted my apology, I still feel guilty.


To my friends, I’m sorry for my actions; I’m sorry for the things I said, I’m sorry you had to stand by me while I undoubtedly embarrassed you beyond belief. I’m sorry to the citizens around me that I abused and swore at. I’m sorry that even though I didn’t know you, nor have we ever met, I still managed to be that person who ruined your evening for you. To the girls who sat infront of me, I am sorry for kicking your chair and I rudely telling you to fuck off when you asked me to stop, I am so, so, so sorry for my disgusting behavour.

To you all, you will never know how sorry I am.

I apologise.

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Welcome to Hi, I Need To Apologise……

My name Mia and I created Hi, I Need To Apologise….. for the simple reason, I felt my soul and conscience needed some cleansing.

A little about me.
I am in my early 30’s, just moved back home from over ten years of travelling. I am starting a brand new career path and am studying my butt off to achieve my new career goal. With a lot of significant changes happening in my life, I’m feeling happy and driven. However, I feel like, for this change to be complete, I still need to (excuse my french) grow the fuck up and move on from my past.

A recent events have led me to acknowledge that I have an issue with binge drinking. This particular event also made me realise that this was not the first time I have fucked up and ruined a perfectly good evening out with friends. Nor was it the first time I stumbled around a city making a dam fool of myself. The regret and anxiety that followed me the next days started to become somewhat overwhelming. I realised at that moment that I have a lot that I want to apologise for, actually about ten years worth of apologies.

This blog intends to be my safe place to reflect, share my story, acknowledge my fuck-ups and apologise for them. This blog is my online journal (I hear they help with healing) to move on from my past. By diving into ‘The Vault’, the locked away memories deep within my brain, I hope to move on from all of the regret, embarrassment and stupid choices I once made. These apologies are my version of soul cleansing.
I have no doubt I hurt, embarrassed and downright disgusted a few people along the way; I want to apologise to you. Random people who had the unfortunate timing of encountering me in ‘one of my states’ I also want to apologise to you.

I am not a writer, so bear with me as I navigate the writing process. Each story shared will be a real encounter of events; names have changed for confidentiality reasons.

I am writing this anonymously though, the intention to one day, when I am brave enough, come clean on my identity.

I hope you, the reader, enjoy coming along on my journey to self-forgiveness and find my story interesting, funny and hopefully not too self-sabotaging.

If you are looking for a way to clear your conscience and are feeling brave enough to share your story. Please feel free to email me, I would love to hear your stories. Sometimes is nice to know others make mistakes too and we are all only human.

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