Why Won't You Apologize?: Healing Big Betrayals and Everyday Hurts
by Harriet Lerner
“I’m sorry” are the two most healing words in the English language. When they are spoken as part of a wholehearted apology, these words are the greatest gift we can give to the person we have offended.
A wholehearted apology means valuing the relationship, and accepting responsibility for our part without a hint of evasion, excuse-making, or blaming. Sometimes the process is less about insisting on justice and more about investing in the relationship and the other person’s happiness. It’s about accepting the people you love as they are and having the maturity to apologize for our part even when the other person’s feelings seem exaggerated, or they can’t see their own contribution to the problem.
Lead with your heart and not your attack dog. It’s difficult and it’s worth it. The courage to apologize, and the wisdom and clarity to do so wisely and well, is at the heart of effective leadership, coupledom, parenting, friendship, personal integrity, and what we call love. It’s hard to imagine what matters more than that.
As the title Why Won’t You Apologize? suggests, the chapters ahead are also for the hurt or angry person who has received a weaselly or insincere apology—or none at all. When we’ve been insulted or injured by someone who just doesn’t get it, we can learn the steps necessary to change the tone of the conversation and get through. Other times, however, nothing we say or do will change the unrepentant wrongdoer. In fact, the more serious the harm, the less likely it is for the wrongdoer to feel genuine remorse and make amends. What does the hurt party do then?
The challenge of apology and reconciliation is a dance that occurs between at least two people. We are all, many times over, on both sides of the equation.
It’s a profound challenge to sit on the hot seat and listen with an open heart to the hurt and anger of the wounded person who wants us to be sorry, especially when that person is accusing us (and not accurately, as we see it) of causing their pain. Yet both personal integrity and success in relationships depend on our ability to take responsibility for our part (and only our part) even when the other person is being a jerk.
The need for apologies and repair is a singularly human one—both on the giving and receiving ends. We are hardwired to seek justice and fairness (however we see it), so the need to receive a sincere apology that’s due is deeply felt. We are also prone to error and defensiveness, so the challenge of offering a heartfelt apology permeates almost every relationship. We take turns at being the offender and the offended until our very last breath. It’s reassuring to know that we have the possibility to set things right, or at least to know that we have brought our best selves to the task at hand, however the other person responds.
- Our apology can help free the hurt person from life-draining anger, bitterness, and pain. It validates their sense of reality by affirming that, yes, their feelings make sense, we get it, and we take full responsibility for our words and actions (or our failure to speak or act).
- A heartfelt apology allows the hurt party the space to explore the possibilities of healing instead of just struggling to make sense of it all.
- The apology is also a gift to our self. Our self-respect and level of maturity rest squarely on our ability to see ourselves objectively, to take a clear-eyed look at the ways that our behavior affects others, and to acknowledge when we’ve acted at another person’s expense.
- The good apology also earns us respect in the eyes of others, even though we may fear the opposite.
- Finally, the good apology is a gift to the relationship. Two people can feel secure in the knowledge that if they behave badly, even fight terribly, they can repair the disconnection. We strengthen our relationships when others know that we’re capable of reflecting on our behavior, and that we’ll listen to their feelings and do our best to set things right.
A wholehearted apology means valuing the relationship, and accepting responsibility for our part without a hint of evasion, excuse-making, or blaming. Sometimes the process is less about insisting on justice and more about investing in the relationship and the other person’s happiness. It’s about accepting the people you love as they are and having the maturity to apologize for our part even when the other person’s feelings seem exaggerated, or they can’t see their own contribution to the problem.
Lead with your heart and not your attack dog. It’s difficult and it’s worth it. The courage to apologize, and the wisdom and clarity to do so wisely and well, is at the heart of effective leadership, coupledom, parenting, friendship, personal integrity, and what we call love. It’s hard to imagine what matters more than that.
As the title Why Won’t You Apologize? suggests, the chapters ahead are also for the hurt or angry person who has received a weaselly or insincere apology—or none at all. When we’ve been insulted or injured by someone who just doesn’t get it, we can learn the steps necessary to change the tone of the conversation and get through. Other times, however, nothing we say or do will change the unrepentant wrongdoer. In fact, the more serious the harm, the less likely it is for the wrongdoer to feel genuine remorse and make amends. What does the hurt party do then?
The challenge of apology and reconciliation is a dance that occurs between at least two people. We are all, many times over, on both sides of the equation.
It’s a profound challenge to sit on the hot seat and listen with an open heart to the hurt and anger of the wounded person who wants us to be sorry, especially when that person is accusing us (and not accurately, as we see it) of causing their pain. Yet both personal integrity and success in relationships depend on our ability to take responsibility for our part (and only our part) even when the other person is being a jerk.
- Why is it so difficult for humans to offer clear expressions of responsibility and remorse for our hurtful words and actions?
- What drives the non-apologizer—and the over-apologizer?
- Why are the people who do the worst things the least able to own up?
- How do we sort out who is responsible for what?
- How do we (the hurt party) unwittingly contribute to the other person’s defensiveness and refusal to apologize?
- How can we get past life-draining anger and bitterness when the wrongdoer distorts reality or reverses blame?
- What’s the real reason you can’t stop hating your ex (or whomever)?
The need for apologies and repair is a singularly human one—both on the giving and receiving ends. We are hardwired to seek justice and fairness (however we see it), so the need to receive a sincere apology that’s due is deeply felt. We are also prone to error and defensiveness, so the challenge of offering a heartfelt apology permeates almost every relationship. We take turns at being the offender and the offended until our very last breath. It’s reassuring to know that we have the possibility to set things right, or at least to know that we have brought our best selves to the task at hand, however the other person responds.
INADEQUATE APOLOGIES
When “but” is tagged on to an apology, it undoes the sincerity. Watch out for this sneaky little add-on. It almost always signals an excuse or cancels out the original message. It doesn’t matter if the statement you make after the “but” is true—it makes the apology false. It says, in effect, “Given the whole situation, my rudeness (or lateness, or sarcastic tone, or what-have-you) is pretty understandable.”
When we offer a genuine apology, it’s only natural to want our apology to lead to forgiveness and reconciliation, but demanding forgiveness can undercut an apology by making the other person feel rushed and even wronged all over again. Apologies often need their own time and space to take hold. A true apology does not ask the other person to do anything—not even to forgive.
There is nothing good to be said about apologizing to someone who truly does not want to hear another word from you. The purpose of an apology is to calm and soothe the hurt party, not to agitate or pursue her because you have the impulse to connect, explain yourself, lower your guilt quotient, or foster your recovery.
OVERDOING AN APOLOGY
Part of a true apology involves showing empathy and remorse. Without authentic feeling behind your apology, it may sound robotic and insincere. Yet, it’s also possible to overdo it. It’s not a true apology if overdoing how terrible you feel about your misdeed leaves the hurt party feeling worse.
A good apology is not about you. It is staying deeply curious about the hurt person’s experience rather than hijacking it with your own emotionality. A problem occurs when the conversation ends up with the hurt or angry party focusing on your pain. When this happens, you’ve lost the opportunity to offer a genuine apology and the other person may leave the conversation feeling awful.
It won’t help to say you’re sorry and then act forlorn and beleaguered as if the other person had just rubbed your face in a plate of dog food. Nor does it help to say you’re sorry and somehow convey that the person you really feel sorry for is yourself, and the hurt party needs to understand how wrenching your own situation is or was, or how deeply ashamed and worthless you feel now that you realize that you’re such a big failure, and maybe you should never open your mouth again since you always seem to say the wrong thing.
Being too sorry can be a covert form of defensiveness. If the hurt party starts feeling the need to make you, the offending party, feel better, take it as a signal to tone down the emotionality and dial back your defensiveness. A heartfelt apology is not about you. If your intention is to offer a genuine apology, it’s the hurt party’s anger and pain that matters. Save yours for a different conversation.
UNDERDOING AN APOLOGY
Underdoing an apology can be equally offensive. “I’m sorry” may also feel empty and halfhearted if there’s no attempt to make restitution. The failure to make restitution is bad business in our personal relationships as well. If, for example, you apologize ten times for spilling coffee on your friend’s rug, but you don’t get up from the couch to help clean up, nor offer to pay for the cleaning bill should there be one, it’s not a real apology. Similarly, if you’re apologizing for having planned an out-of-town trip on your best friend’s birthday, it will help if you immediately take the initiative to make an alternative plan that reflects thoughtfulness and care.
In his book Effective Apology, business expert John Kador’s definition is as good as any I’ve seen: “We apologize when we accept responsibility for an offence or grievance and express remorse in a direct, personal and unambiguous manner, offering restitution and promising not to do it again.”
Furthermore, no one formula fits all. As Gary Chapman and Jennifer Thomas point out in The Five Languages of Apology, the “right way” to say you’re sorry depends on whom you are apologizing to, because people differ in the words they need to hear in order to accept an apology as sincere. Words that soothe one person may disappoint or irritate another. One person may need to hear the offender say, “I was wrong,” in order to feel that the apology is genuine. For another person, “I promise to do my best to ensure it won’t happen again” are the magic words that allow the apology to get through.
Then there’s the matter of what you’re apologizing for. To heal a large hurt, a simple and genuine “I’m sorry” is only a good first step. More needs to follow in order to set things right. High-stakes situations call for an apology that’s a long-distance run—one that may require us to sit on the hot seat and listen with an open heart to the anger of the wounded party on more than one occasion. There is no greater gift, or one more difficult to offer, than the gift of wholehearted listening to that sort of pain.
- “I’m sorry you feel that way” is another common pseudo-apology. A true apology keeps the focus on your actions—and not on the other person’s response.
- The little word “if” also invites the other person to question their own reactions. Watch out for, “I’m sorry if I was insensitive,” or “I’m sorry if you took what I said as offensive.” Almost any apology that begins with “I’m sorry if . . .” is a non-apology. Try instead, “The comment I made was offensive. I’m sorry I was insensitive and I want you to know that it won’t happen again.”
- “I’m sorry that what I said to you made you so upset.”
- Another fine way to ruin an apology is to view your apology as an automatic ticket to forgiveness and redemption, that is, it’s really about you and your need for reassurance. “I’m sorry” shouldn’t be viewed as a bargaining chip you give to get something back from the injured party, like forgiveness. The words “Do you forgive me?” or “Please forgive me” are a valued ritual in certain close relationships, and it’s fine to apologize and ask for forgiveness if you are in a relationship where the hurt party appreciates this. But if you as the wrongdoer expect or demand forgiveness, or request it prematurely, you may end up with a failed apology.
When we offer a genuine apology, it’s only natural to want our apology to lead to forgiveness and reconciliation, but demanding forgiveness can undercut an apology by making the other person feel rushed and even wronged all over again. Apologies often need their own time and space to take hold. A true apology does not ask the other person to do anything—not even to forgive.
There is nothing good to be said about apologizing to someone who truly does not want to hear another word from you. The purpose of an apology is to calm and soothe the hurt party, not to agitate or pursue her because you have the impulse to connect, explain yourself, lower your guilt quotient, or foster your recovery.
OVERDOING AN APOLOGY
Part of a true apology involves showing empathy and remorse. Without authentic feeling behind your apology, it may sound robotic and insincere. Yet, it’s also possible to overdo it. It’s not a true apology if overdoing how terrible you feel about your misdeed leaves the hurt party feeling worse.
A good apology is not about you. It is staying deeply curious about the hurt person’s experience rather than hijacking it with your own emotionality. A problem occurs when the conversation ends up with the hurt or angry party focusing on your pain. When this happens, you’ve lost the opportunity to offer a genuine apology and the other person may leave the conversation feeling awful.
It won’t help to say you’re sorry and then act forlorn and beleaguered as if the other person had just rubbed your face in a plate of dog food. Nor does it help to say you’re sorry and somehow convey that the person you really feel sorry for is yourself, and the hurt party needs to understand how wrenching your own situation is or was, or how deeply ashamed and worthless you feel now that you realize that you’re such a big failure, and maybe you should never open your mouth again since you always seem to say the wrong thing.
Being too sorry can be a covert form of defensiveness. If the hurt party starts feeling the need to make you, the offending party, feel better, take it as a signal to tone down the emotionality and dial back your defensiveness. A heartfelt apology is not about you. If your intention is to offer a genuine apology, it’s the hurt party’s anger and pain that matters. Save yours for a different conversation.
UNDERDOING AN APOLOGY
Underdoing an apology can be equally offensive. “I’m sorry” may also feel empty and halfhearted if there’s no attempt to make restitution. The failure to make restitution is bad business in our personal relationships as well. If, for example, you apologize ten times for spilling coffee on your friend’s rug, but you don’t get up from the couch to help clean up, nor offer to pay for the cleaning bill should there be one, it’s not a real apology. Similarly, if you’re apologizing for having planned an out-of-town trip on your best friend’s birthday, it will help if you immediately take the initiative to make an alternative plan that reflects thoughtfulness and care.
In his book Effective Apology, business expert John Kador’s definition is as good as any I’ve seen: “We apologize when we accept responsibility for an offence or grievance and express remorse in a direct, personal and unambiguous manner, offering restitution and promising not to do it again.”
Furthermore, no one formula fits all. As Gary Chapman and Jennifer Thomas point out in The Five Languages of Apology, the “right way” to say you’re sorry depends on whom you are apologizing to, because people differ in the words they need to hear in order to accept an apology as sincere. Words that soothe one person may disappoint or irritate another. One person may need to hear the offender say, “I was wrong,” in order to feel that the apology is genuine. For another person, “I promise to do my best to ensure it won’t happen again” are the magic words that allow the apology to get through.
Then there’s the matter of what you’re apologizing for. To heal a large hurt, a simple and genuine “I’m sorry” is only a good first step. More needs to follow in order to set things right. High-stakes situations call for an apology that’s a long-distance run—one that may require us to sit on the hot seat and listen with an open heart to the anger of the wounded party on more than one occasion. There is no greater gift, or one more difficult to offer, than the gift of wholehearted listening to that sort of pain.
Apologizing Under Fire: How to Handle Big-Time Criticism
It’s difficult enough to offer an apology when we see the need for it and believe it’s the right thing to do. It’s far more difficult still when we’re confronted with criticism from the hurt party that we didn’t see coming, and that we don’t believe is fair. Some criticism we receive will undoubtedly come from the other person’s reactivity rather than our bad behavior. It is incredibly difficult to sit on the hot seat and dial down our defensiveness when we are the target of criticism that feels overdone or entirely undeserved.
We can learn to listen differently, to ask questions, to apologize for the part we can agree with and define how we see things differently. A genuine apology can be deeply healing, while the failure to listen well and apologize can sometimes lead to the loss of a relationship.
It’s incredibly difficult to listen to someone’s pain when that someone is accusing us of causing it. We automatically listen for and react to what is unfair and incorrect. To listen with an open heart and ask questions to better help us understand the other person is a spiritual exercise, in the truest sense of the word. It takes tremendous effort to sit on the hot seat and only listen. Sometimes we automatically want to counter with our own view of the facts. That conversation is for another time.
The words “I want you to know that I’m going to keep thinking about what you’ve told me” are an often neglected and truly important part of a healing apology.
An authentic apology doesn’t mean that we passively accept criticisms that we believe are wrong, unjust, and totally off the mark. A sincere apology means we are fully accountable for the part we are responsible for, and for only that.
A Word About Being Blasted
A commitment to listening doesn’t mean that we stay mute while the other person is rude and out of bounds. It’s important to have limits especially about tolerating unkindness. Being a good listener also means that we can tell the other person when we can’t listen—that we know when to say, “Not now” or “Not in this way.” When we tolerate rudeness in any relationship—if doing so becomes habitual rather than a rare event—we erode our own self-regard and diminish the other person by not reaching for their competence to do better.
Plus, there is nothing compassionate about letting a person go on and on when the conversation is at our expense or we just can’t listen anymore. It’s impossible to overstate how difficult it is to shift out of defensive mode. When someone approaches us in an angry or critical way, our automatic set point is listening for what we don’t agree with. It’s so automatic that it takes motivation, courage, and goodwill to observe our defensiveness and practice stepping aside from it.
We can learn to listen differently, to ask questions, to apologize for the part we can agree with and define how we see things differently. A genuine apology can be deeply healing, while the failure to listen well and apologize can sometimes lead to the loss of a relationship.
It’s incredibly difficult to listen to someone’s pain when that someone is accusing us of causing it. We automatically listen for and react to what is unfair and incorrect. To listen with an open heart and ask questions to better help us understand the other person is a spiritual exercise, in the truest sense of the word. It takes tremendous effort to sit on the hot seat and only listen. Sometimes we automatically want to counter with our own view of the facts. That conversation is for another time.
The words “I want you to know that I’m going to keep thinking about what you’ve told me” are an often neglected and truly important part of a healing apology.
An authentic apology doesn’t mean that we passively accept criticisms that we believe are wrong, unjust, and totally off the mark. A sincere apology means we are fully accountable for the part we are responsible for, and for only that.
A Word About Being Blasted
A commitment to listening doesn’t mean that we stay mute while the other person is rude and out of bounds. It’s important to have limits especially about tolerating unkindness. Being a good listener also means that we can tell the other person when we can’t listen—that we know when to say, “Not now” or “Not in this way.” When we tolerate rudeness in any relationship—if doing so becomes habitual rather than a rare event—we erode our own self-regard and diminish the other person by not reaching for their competence to do better.
Plus, there is nothing compassionate about letting a person go on and on when the conversation is at our expense or we just can’t listen anymore. It’s impossible to overstate how difficult it is to shift out of defensive mode. When someone approaches us in an angry or critical way, our automatic set point is listening for what we don’t agree with. It’s so automatic that it takes motivation, courage, and goodwill to observe our defensiveness and practice stepping aside from it.
How to Dial Down Your Defensiveness
Non-defensive listening is at the heart of offering a sincere apology. Here are twelve points to keep in mind when we’re on the receiving end of criticism.
Words of apology, no matter how sincere, will not heal a broken connection if we haven’t listened well to the hurt party’s anger and pain. As we’ve seen, a good listener does more than sit there and make empathic grunts. Wholehearted listening requires us to quiet our mind, open our heart, and ask questions to help us to better understand. It also requires that we stop ourselves from interrupting, making corrections, and saying things that leave the other person feeling unheard or cut short. It requires us to get past our defensiveness when the critical party is saying things that we don’t agree with and don’t want to hear, and instead let her voice and her pain affect and influence us. If only our passion to understand the other person were as great as our passion to be understood. Were this so, all of our apologies would be truly meaningful and healing.
- Recognize your defensiveness. We are wired to go immediately into defensive mode when criticized. Becoming aware of our defensiveness can give us a tiny, crucial bit of distance from it. We are listening defensively when we listen for what we don’t agree with. Catch yourself when you are focusing on the inaccuracies, distortions, and exaggerations that inevitably will be there.
- Breathe. Defensiveness starts in the body, making us tense and on guard, unable to take in new information. Do what you can to calm yourself. Take slow and deep breaths.
- Listen only to understand. Listen only to discover what you can agree with. Do not interrupt, argue, refute, or correct facts, or bring up your own criticisms and complaints. If your points are legitimate, that’s all the more reason to save them for a different conversation, when they can be a focus of conversation and not a defense strategy.
- Ask questions about whatever you don’t understand. When the criticism is vague (“I feel you don’t respect me”), ask for a concrete example. (“Can you give me another example where you felt I was putting you down?”) This will add to your clarity and show the other party that you care about understanding them. Note: Asking for specifics is not the same thing as nitpicking—the key is to be curious, not to interogate. Don’t act like a lawyer, even if you are one.
- Find something you can agree with. You may only agree with 7 percent of what the other person is saying, and still find a point of commonality. (“I think you’re right that I was totally hogging the conversation the other night.”) If you can’t find anything to agree with, thank the other person for their openness, and let them know that you’ll be thinking about what they’ve told you.
- Apologize for your part. It will indicate to the critical party that you’re capable of taking responsibility, not just evading it. It will also help shift the exchange out of combat into collaboration. Save your thoughts about their part until later.
- Let the offended party know he or she has been heard and that you will continue to think about the conversation. Even if nothing has been resolved, tell the other person that she’s reached you. (“It’s not easy to hear what you’re telling me, but I want you to know that I’m going to give it a lot of thought.”) Take time to genuinely consider her point of view.
- Thank the critical person for sharing his or her feelings. Relationships require that we take such initiative, and express gratitude where the other person might expect mere defensiveness. (“I appreciate your telling me this. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”) In this way we signal our commitment to the relationship.
- Take the initiative to bring the conversation up again. Show the other person that you are continuing to think about her point of view and that you are willing to revisit the issue. (“I’ve been thinking about our conversation last week and I’m really glad that we had that talk. I’m wondering if there’s more you haven’t told me.”)
- Draw the line at insults. There may be a time to sit through an initial blast, but not if rudeness has become a pattern in your relationship rather than an uncommon occurrence. Exit from rudeness while offering the possibility of another conversation. (“I want to hear what bothers you, but I need you to approach me with respect.”)
- Don’t listen when you can’t listen well. It’s fine to tell the other person that you want to have the conversation and that you recognize its importance, but you can’t have it right now. If you’re closing the conversation, suggest a specific window of time to resume it. (“I can’t absorb what you’re saying now. Let’s come back to it tomorrow when I’ll be able to give you my full attention.”)
- Define your differences. You need to tell the critical person how you see things differently, rather than being an overly accommodating, peace-at-any-price type of person who apologizes to avoid conflict. Even if the other person isn’t able to consider your point of view, you may need to hear the sound of your own voice saying what you really think. Timing is crucial, so consider saving your different point of view for a future conversation when you’ll have the best chance of being heard.
Words of apology, no matter how sincere, will not heal a broken connection if we haven’t listened well to the hurt party’s anger and pain. As we’ve seen, a good listener does more than sit there and make empathic grunts. Wholehearted listening requires us to quiet our mind, open our heart, and ask questions to help us to better understand. It also requires that we stop ourselves from interrupting, making corrections, and saying things that leave the other person feeling unheard or cut short. It requires us to get past our defensiveness when the critical party is saying things that we don’t agree with and don’t want to hear, and instead let her voice and her pain affect and influence us. If only our passion to understand the other person were as great as our passion to be understood. Were this so, all of our apologies would be truly meaningful and healing.
THE NON-APOLOGIZER
People hold strikingly different views about how, when, and if to offer (and accept) apologies. “I don’t apologize and I don’t accept apologies,” a friend tells me flatly. “When people apologize to me, they’re trying to silence my anger. They’re really saying, ‘Look, I apologized, so be quiet already. Drop it.’ ” My friend views apologies as a manipulative tool to silence or placate the other person and to grab the moral high ground. Some apologies are, indeed, motivated by nothing more than a wish to shut down the conversation and avoid further criticism—or they are used as an excuse to continue unfair or irresponsible behavior. That said, I have a different view. I believe that tendering an apology, one that is authentic and genuinely felt, helps the other person to feel validated, soothed, and cared for and can restore a sense of well-being and integrity to the one who sincerely feels she or he did something wrong. Without the possibility of apology and repair, the inherently flawed experience of being human would feel impossibly tragic.
REAL MEN DON’T APOLOGIZE
Perhaps the number one risk factor for being a non-apologizer is being born male, just as the number one risk factor for being an over-apologizer is being born female. Research suggests that more men than women just won’t go there when it comes to apologizing—a finding that holds true across cultures. Every kid knows what it means to man up: Be strong, don’t cry, don’t be too soft, sensitive, or vulnerable, don’t be a sissy . . . in a word, don’t be like a girl.
For some men, the very act of apologizing, of simply saying, “I was wrong, I made a mistake, I’m sorry,” may feel uncomfortable, if not intolerable. As one man put it, “It makes me feel weak to apologize. It’s like losing something and giving the other person the superior edge. And once you let your guard down, the other person can take advantage of you.”
THE PROBLEM WITH PERFECTIONISM
Some people are so hard on themselves for the mistakes they make that they don’t have the emotional room to apologize to others—or at least not in the particularly vulnerable area (say, work or parenting) in which their self-esteem is most at stake. When we adopt an attitude of terminal seriousness about our mistakes—or we equate mistakes with being unworthy, lesser, or bad—it’s more difficult to admit error and apologize for being wrong. A vicious cycle ensues because the inability to admit error, orient to reality, and offer a heartfelt apology only leaves the perfectionist feeling less authentic and whole, that is, even “less perfect,” which then further heightens the resistance to apologizing.
THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF SHAME
To offer a serious apology, you need the inner strength to allow yourself to feel vulnerable. You need to be in touch with both your competence and your limitations. When you have fairly solid self-esteem you can admit to being in the wrong, without feeling like you’re weakening the fabric of the self, or losing something to the other person.
Nothing devastates self-worth like the experience of shame—the feeling of being essentially flawed, inadequate, and out of the flow of human connection. While guilt evokes true remorse and signals us to apologize, shame does the opposite. Brené Brown’s work on shame and vulnerability has helped countless men and women identify the mischief of this emotion—and courageously speak, act, and show up in spite of it. Shame and guilt are distinctly different emotions.
Guilt is what we feel when we behave in a way that violates our core values and beliefs—assuming, of course, that our conscience is in good working order. The experience of guilt is usually tied to specific behaviors that we’re not especially proud of, like betraying a friend’s confidence, or hurting someone in the name of honesty. Healthy guilt is to be distinguished from the nonproductive guilt that women have long been encouraged to cultivate like a little flower garden—the kind of guilt that keeps women saying “I’m sorry” for no good reason at all. Healthy guilt is “good guilt.” It’s what inspires us to apologize when we stray from being the kind, honest, responsible person we aim to be—that is, when we deserve to be sorry.
Unlike healthy guilt, the experience of shame goes beyond specific behaviors to what a friend describes as “a yuck, poisoned feeling” about one’s fundamental self. While guilt is about doing, shame is about being. Deep down we believe that another person couldn’t possibly love or respect us if he or she really knew the whole, pitiful, god-awful truth about us. To guard against the intolerable feeling of shame, we may fold ourselves up and hide in the darkest corner. We may apologize for taking up too much space or for using up too much of the valuable oxygen in the room. Or we may do the opposite and flip shame into contempt, arrogance, a need to control, and displays of one-upmanship, dominance, and superiority. In the latter case the person may be hell-bent on not apologizing to anybody. The overly apologetic style is more predominant in women, and the dominating style is more predominant in men, although there are many exceptions to this generalization. While these two styles of shame-avoidance look as different as night and day, they are flip sides of the same low-self-esteem coin. It took me a long time to fully appreciate that the person who feels essentially superior is no different than the person who feels essentially inferior. In both cases it will be challenging for the shame-based person to apologize wisely and well.
For an individual to look squarely at his or her harmful actions and to become genuinely accountable, that person must have a platform of self-worth to stand on. Only from the vantage point of this higher ground can people who have hurt others gain perspective and access empathy and remorse. Only from there can they look out at their less-than-honorable behaviors and apologize. Of course, a heartfelt apology cannot right a serious wrong, but it can be a first step.
WHY THE WORST OFFENDERS DON’T FEEL SORRY
The worse the offense and the greater the shame, the more difficult it is for the wrongdoer to empathize with the harmed party and feel remorse. Instead one tells oneself, “It wasn’t my fault,” or “I couldn’t help myself,” or “It’s not that big a deal.” Self-protective explanations often shift the blame onto the harmed party as ever deeper levels of self-deception come into play. One tells oneself, “She really asked for it,” “I did it for his own good,” or “It was necessary,” and even “It never happened.” Whether the context is personal or political, all of us can create layers of defensiveness when we cannot face the shame of having violated our values and having harmed others. It is always easier to offer a sincere apology for small things than for serious transgressions. When our identity and sense of worth are at risk of being diminished or annihilated, we will not be able to offer a true apology and face all that the challenge of earning back trust entails. We are more likely to wrap ourselves in a blanket of rationalization, minimization, and denial in order to survive. Defensiveness is no longer merely a roadblock that we can observe and get past after we calm down and limber up the thinking part of our brain. When we have lost sight of our value and worth, defensiveness is where we live.
SHAMING THE SHAMER DOESN’T WORK
When faced with an unrepentant wrongdoer who won’t apologize and feels no remorse, it’s a normal human impulse to blame the blamer and shame the shamer. The problem is that it doesn’t help—not with simple offenses or with very serious ones. Smacking labels and diagnoses on nonrepentant offenders only rigidifies their defenses rather than opening their hearts. It’s not just an expression of the offender’s pathological denial that he or she doesn’t want to accept the label of “a batterer,” “an abuser,” or “a toxic parent.” The refusal to take on an identity defined by our worst deeds is a healthy act of resistance. If one’s identity as a person is equated with one’s worst acts, it can be impossible to accept responsibility or access genuine feelings of sorrow and remorse. To do so would destroy whatever remnants of self-worth a person had left.
As a therapist who has worked with serious offenders, I have helped men and women to resist the notion that their crime defines them. Only by enlarging the offender’s platform of self-worth might that person find his way to empathize with the pain the hurt party feels, apologize in a heartfelt way, and work to ensure that it will never happen again. We have the best chance to reach people who do serious harm in treatment programs that do not label them as bad or sick, but rather enhance self-respect while accepting no excuses for violent behaviors.
Once we label and shame people (“He is a sexual predator”), we narrow the possibility of redemption and positive change. A heartfelt apology for serious wrongdoings can only be offered by those who can see their mistakes as part of being human, and who can hold on to a big picture of their multifaceted, ever-changing self. Labeling and demonizing the offender will not open their minds, soften their hearts, and break through their defenses. It will do the opposite.
REAL MEN DON’T APOLOGIZE
Perhaps the number one risk factor for being a non-apologizer is being born male, just as the number one risk factor for being an over-apologizer is being born female. Research suggests that more men than women just won’t go there when it comes to apologizing—a finding that holds true across cultures. Every kid knows what it means to man up: Be strong, don’t cry, don’t be too soft, sensitive, or vulnerable, don’t be a sissy . . . in a word, don’t be like a girl.
For some men, the very act of apologizing, of simply saying, “I was wrong, I made a mistake, I’m sorry,” may feel uncomfortable, if not intolerable. As one man put it, “It makes me feel weak to apologize. It’s like losing something and giving the other person the superior edge. And once you let your guard down, the other person can take advantage of you.”
THE PROBLEM WITH PERFECTIONISM
Some people are so hard on themselves for the mistakes they make that they don’t have the emotional room to apologize to others—or at least not in the particularly vulnerable area (say, work or parenting) in which their self-esteem is most at stake. When we adopt an attitude of terminal seriousness about our mistakes—or we equate mistakes with being unworthy, lesser, or bad—it’s more difficult to admit error and apologize for being wrong. A vicious cycle ensues because the inability to admit error, orient to reality, and offer a heartfelt apology only leaves the perfectionist feeling less authentic and whole, that is, even “less perfect,” which then further heightens the resistance to apologizing.
THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF SHAME
To offer a serious apology, you need the inner strength to allow yourself to feel vulnerable. You need to be in touch with both your competence and your limitations. When you have fairly solid self-esteem you can admit to being in the wrong, without feeling like you’re weakening the fabric of the self, or losing something to the other person.
Nothing devastates self-worth like the experience of shame—the feeling of being essentially flawed, inadequate, and out of the flow of human connection. While guilt evokes true remorse and signals us to apologize, shame does the opposite. Brené Brown’s work on shame and vulnerability has helped countless men and women identify the mischief of this emotion—and courageously speak, act, and show up in spite of it. Shame and guilt are distinctly different emotions.
Guilt is what we feel when we behave in a way that violates our core values and beliefs—assuming, of course, that our conscience is in good working order. The experience of guilt is usually tied to specific behaviors that we’re not especially proud of, like betraying a friend’s confidence, or hurting someone in the name of honesty. Healthy guilt is to be distinguished from the nonproductive guilt that women have long been encouraged to cultivate like a little flower garden—the kind of guilt that keeps women saying “I’m sorry” for no good reason at all. Healthy guilt is “good guilt.” It’s what inspires us to apologize when we stray from being the kind, honest, responsible person we aim to be—that is, when we deserve to be sorry.
Unlike healthy guilt, the experience of shame goes beyond specific behaviors to what a friend describes as “a yuck, poisoned feeling” about one’s fundamental self. While guilt is about doing, shame is about being. Deep down we believe that another person couldn’t possibly love or respect us if he or she really knew the whole, pitiful, god-awful truth about us. To guard against the intolerable feeling of shame, we may fold ourselves up and hide in the darkest corner. We may apologize for taking up too much space or for using up too much of the valuable oxygen in the room. Or we may do the opposite and flip shame into contempt, arrogance, a need to control, and displays of one-upmanship, dominance, and superiority. In the latter case the person may be hell-bent on not apologizing to anybody. The overly apologetic style is more predominant in women, and the dominating style is more predominant in men, although there are many exceptions to this generalization. While these two styles of shame-avoidance look as different as night and day, they are flip sides of the same low-self-esteem coin. It took me a long time to fully appreciate that the person who feels essentially superior is no different than the person who feels essentially inferior. In both cases it will be challenging for the shame-based person to apologize wisely and well.
For an individual to look squarely at his or her harmful actions and to become genuinely accountable, that person must have a platform of self-worth to stand on. Only from the vantage point of this higher ground can people who have hurt others gain perspective and access empathy and remorse. Only from there can they look out at their less-than-honorable behaviors and apologize. Of course, a heartfelt apology cannot right a serious wrong, but it can be a first step.
WHY THE WORST OFFENDERS DON’T FEEL SORRY
The worse the offense and the greater the shame, the more difficult it is for the wrongdoer to empathize with the harmed party and feel remorse. Instead one tells oneself, “It wasn’t my fault,” or “I couldn’t help myself,” or “It’s not that big a deal.” Self-protective explanations often shift the blame onto the harmed party as ever deeper levels of self-deception come into play. One tells oneself, “She really asked for it,” “I did it for his own good,” or “It was necessary,” and even “It never happened.” Whether the context is personal or political, all of us can create layers of defensiveness when we cannot face the shame of having violated our values and having harmed others. It is always easier to offer a sincere apology for small things than for serious transgressions. When our identity and sense of worth are at risk of being diminished or annihilated, we will not be able to offer a true apology and face all that the challenge of earning back trust entails. We are more likely to wrap ourselves in a blanket of rationalization, minimization, and denial in order to survive. Defensiveness is no longer merely a roadblock that we can observe and get past after we calm down and limber up the thinking part of our brain. When we have lost sight of our value and worth, defensiveness is where we live.
SHAMING THE SHAMER DOESN’T WORK
When faced with an unrepentant wrongdoer who won’t apologize and feels no remorse, it’s a normal human impulse to blame the blamer and shame the shamer. The problem is that it doesn’t help—not with simple offenses or with very serious ones. Smacking labels and diagnoses on nonrepentant offenders only rigidifies their defenses rather than opening their hearts. It’s not just an expression of the offender’s pathological denial that he or she doesn’t want to accept the label of “a batterer,” “an abuser,” or “a toxic parent.” The refusal to take on an identity defined by our worst deeds is a healthy act of resistance. If one’s identity as a person is equated with one’s worst acts, it can be impossible to accept responsibility or access genuine feelings of sorrow and remorse. To do so would destroy whatever remnants of self-worth a person had left.
As a therapist who has worked with serious offenders, I have helped men and women to resist the notion that their crime defines them. Only by enlarging the offender’s platform of self-worth might that person find his way to empathize with the pain the hurt party feels, apologize in a heartfelt way, and work to ensure that it will never happen again. We have the best chance to reach people who do serious harm in treatment programs that do not label them as bad or sick, but rather enhance self-respect while accepting no excuses for violent behaviors.
Once we label and shame people (“He is a sexual predator”), we narrow the possibility of redemption and positive change. A heartfelt apology for serious wrongdoings can only be offered by those who can see their mistakes as part of being human, and who can hold on to a big picture of their multifaceted, ever-changing self. Labeling and demonizing the offender will not open their minds, soften their hearts, and break through their defenses. It will do the opposite.
THE ROLE OF THE HURT PARTY
Some folks are entrenched non-apologizers, and there’s no changing that. They are too defensive, too covered in shame, and can’t or won’t see themselves objectively. They will never own up. Often, however, the challenge of apology and reconciliation is a dance that takes place between at least two people, and varies according to context and circumstance. This means that if you aren’t getting the apology you need and deserve, you may unwittingly be contributing to the problem. Needless to say, no one who is suffering and has a legitimate grievance wants to hear this. Yet we need to.
You can’t make another person drop the defensiveness and fess up. Nor are you responsible for the wrongdoer’s failure to apologize when she or he should. You can, however, avoid adding to that individual’s defensiveness, so that you have the best chance of exceeding his threshold of deafness and being heard.
If you confront the other person in an angry or critical way, it may take only a nanosecond before the other person’s “But, but, but . . .” response kicks in and you’ve lost them. Even if the apology we seek concerns a relatively small matter, the wrongdoer will get more defensive if you overstate your case or come on too strong. How you navigate your part of the relationship with a defensive person matters, so keep the following ideas in mind.
STICK TO THE FACTS
People won’t apologize if they’re feeling overly accused or pushed to assume more than their fair share of the blame. As one man put it, “When my wife criticizes me, I don’t want to apologize because I feel like I’m putting my head on the chopping block. If I apologize, I’m agreeing with her that I’m the whole problem, which isn’t true.” Even a slight exaggeration of the facts can kick up the other person’s defensiveness. If your partner came home late from work six times last month, and you accuse him of coming home late eight times, he’ll likely focus on correcting the facts, rather than taking in your legitimate complaint.
Anyone who is criticized inaccurately will listen defensively. When we listen defensively, we automatically focus on the exaggerations, distortions, and inaccuracies that indeed may be there, rather than listen for the essence of what’s being said. Then we may swing into debate mode to correct the facts. Once in debate mode, an apology feels like losing.
If you want to invite the other person to consider his behavior and offer an apology, remember the most basic rule of good communication. Criticize the behavior, not the person. But under the sway of strong emotions we may automatically ramp up the intensity. Paradoxically, it’s in our most enduring and important relationships that we’re least likely to be our most mature and thoughtful selves.
OVERDOING IT CAN BE SUBTLE
Sometimes overdoing a criticism is hard to spot because it’s subtle. We may be holding the other person responsible not only for their behavior, but also for our reaction to it. My friend Bob told me this story: My home office has been a mess lately, and Jill, who shares the space, is a much more organized person than I am. After glancing at the stacks of papers everywhere on my desk and floor, she said to me: “When I walk into this room, I feel like our household is totally falling apart.” Totally falling apart! Our household? I’m her hardworking faithful partner of fourteen years and because my half of the office is a mess, she feels like everything is crumbling around her? And yet when I said, “That’s a pretty extreme statement,” she simply responded, “Well, it’s how I feel.” Bob picked up his papers from the floor, but didn’t muster up the maturity to apologize. As he put it, “The accusation was simply too much.” Despite Jill’s attempt to couch it in “I-language,” it was a broad condemnation in both content and tone. From Jill’s perspective, she was sharing her feelings. But Bob felt like he was being held responsible not only for his messiness, but also for her feeling like their household was falling apart. This made it more difficult for him to apologize for his inconsiderate behavior. He cleaned up his mess, but felt more like the victim than the inconsiderate one.
SAY IT SHORTER. WHY LESS IS MORE
Here’s an incredibly important principle for the hurt or angry party that is simple to understand in theory, but difficult to put into practice. Say it shorter. If you’re trying to get through to a non-apologizer—or any difficult or defensive person—keep in mind that overtalking on your part will lead to under listening from the other. This is true whether the offense you’re addressing is large or small. People take in very little information when they don’t want to hear what you’re saying. If you go on too long, you’re actually protecting the other person from taking in your anger or pain, because that person will shut down and vacate the emotional premises. He or she won’t have the space to sit with what you’ve said and to consider the valid point you may be making. It doesn’t matter how old or young that other person happens to be.
When we believe we won’t get through to the offending party, we often increase the intensity and lengthen our arguments. This does not help—and usually hurts. We may not recognize that our tone of voice or the sheer number of sentences may be the culprit. Despite a lifetime of bad results, many people keep believing that the more details they include in their efforts to get through, the more the other person will see the irrefutable truth of their point and realize the extent of the hurt they have caused. I haven’t done a large-scale study, but my observations suggest that the higher the word count on an emotionally loaded subject, the faster the other person shuts down. Try the experiment of saying a criticism in three sentences or less to the offending party, and leave it at that: “I want you to say thank you when I drive you places,” or “You forgot to take the garbage out for the second week in a row,” or “I feel uncomfortable about how much you drank at the party. Then you were rude to my mother, and that’s not acceptable.” Keep the edge out of your voice, because intensity and reactivity will only lead to more of the same. Obviously, longer conversations are necessary on many subjects to repair a disconnection and to let the other person understand the full measure of your anger or pain. But these important conversations will go better if you practice brevity on the smaller things.
SHAMING NEVER HELPS
I recently overheard a mother disciplining a child who had taken a fistful of candy off the shelves of a local supermarket and stuffed it in his jacket pocket, only to be discovered upon leaving the premises. The conversation began well. The mom said, “It’s wrong to take something that isn’t yours. It’s also against the law. Let’s go back inside the store and you can apologize for taking the candy.” When her son said nothing, however, the mother quickly moved from criticizing his behavior (what he did) to attacking his character (who he was). “I cannot believe you did this! I always thought that you were an honest boy and now I can’t trust you. I am so disappointed in you.” The boy was probably all of seven. “I’m sorry,” the boy said, head down, eyes averted. Shaming people-–whether they are seven or seventy—may indeed force an apology, but that apology is likely to be motivated by the wish to escape the intolerable feeling of being shamed. A shamed person wants to fold up and disappear, so an apology becomes a quick way to exit the situation. You can shame someone into saying they are sorry with a one-liner, because shame is that powerful. If you shame someone in a lesser position of power, it can lead that person to conform, obey, and give the obligatory apology. But shame will not inspire reflection, self-observation, and personal growth. These are essentially self-loving tasks that do not flourish in an atmosphere of self-depreciation and self-blame. One of my favorite Peanuts cartoons shows Charlie Brown consulting with Lucy at her five-cents psychiatrist booth. “The trouble with you, Charlie Brown,” she says, “is that you’re you.” What is Charlie Brown to do with that? We can apologize for what we do. We cannot apologize for who we are. When we go from criticizing specific behaviors to taking a hatchet to someone’s already rickety self-worth, we narrow the possibility that they will be able to consider their harmful behaviors, feel empathy and remorse, and be motivated to make amends. Shaming will also fundamentally harm your relationship with the other person, even if the damage doesn’t show up till many years later.
DID THE WRONGDOER “CAUSE” YOUR FEELINGS AND BEHAVIOR?
The other person is more likely to be accountable and to apologize when we are able to share our thoughts and feelings without holding that person responsible for causing them. This is what “I-language” is all about.
We are responsible for our own behavior. But we are not responsible for other people’s reactions, nor are they responsible for ours.
We can all think of situations where one person’s terrible behavior (a profound betrayal) is arguably responsible for causing the other person’s reaction, and we are taught to view human transactions in simple cause-and-effect terms. But relationship systems typically don’t operate in a simple linear fashion. Consider the husband who has an ongoing love affair in a marriage where he has vowed to be monogamous. He is, indeed, responsible for his actions, which include not only whom he lies with (the affair partner) but also whom he lies to (his wife). The husband is the only one responsible for his deception. His wife did not cause the affair, whether through her emotional distance, readiness to criticize, sexual unavailability, chronic illness, or her thirty extra pounds. She may have contributed to the likelihood of an infidelity, but many husbands do not handle marital problems or any of life’s other stresses by having affairs.
Now consider the reaction of the wife who discovers this terrible betrayal. Perhaps one woman becomes so depressed that she takes her life. Another woman leaves the marriage and avoids any possibility of future relationships, saying she will never be able to trust again. A third woman, post-divorce, happily remarries, with a man who is loving and responsible. Did the unfaithful partner make the first wife commit suicide? Did he cause the second woman to never trust a man again? Was he responsible for the third woman feeling happier than ever before in her new marriage? We might even add a hypothetical fourth wife, who upon discovering the affair feels abject relief. “Now I can finally leave this guy,” she tells herself, “and I don’t have to worry about my parents blaming me for the divorce.” Should her husband be credited for doing a good deed?
If you are the person offering an apology, it is essential to speak the language of cause-and-effect, and to take unambiguous responsibility for the consequences of your actions and its impact on the other person. It is the only way to acknowledge the specific ways your actions have resulted in the other person’s hurt or suffering.
When you are the harmed party, however, and you want the defensive person who hurt you to take responsibility for his or her behavior, you have a different challenge. Try sharing your reactions without holding the other person responsible for causing your feelings. There is greater clarity and self-empowerment in saying, “When I discovered what you did, I felt devastated and crazy,” rather than, “You made me feel devastated and crazy.”
A FINAL WORD OF ADVICE
Don’t demand an apology. Requesting an apology is fine, but demanding one is counterproductive. On the couples’ front, psychologist Ellen Wachtel notes, “Demanding an apology can be harmful. Your partner may feel as if he or she is being asked to grovel. There is something humiliating about being forced to apologize on demand. It can make the apologizer feel like a child or like someone lacking in self-respect.” People do not respond well to being told how they should think, feel, or behave—and that includes being told to apologize. You’ll have a better chance of getting through if you don’t try to “make” the other person say they’re sorry. And if the other person apologizes because you’ve demanded it, his or her words won’t be sincerely felt. Instead, try to model the heartfelt, spontaneous apology that you would like to receive. And be generous in accepting the apology offered to you in good faith.
You can’t make another person drop the defensiveness and fess up. Nor are you responsible for the wrongdoer’s failure to apologize when she or he should. You can, however, avoid adding to that individual’s defensiveness, so that you have the best chance of exceeding his threshold of deafness and being heard.
If you confront the other person in an angry or critical way, it may take only a nanosecond before the other person’s “But, but, but . . .” response kicks in and you’ve lost them. Even if the apology we seek concerns a relatively small matter, the wrongdoer will get more defensive if you overstate your case or come on too strong. How you navigate your part of the relationship with a defensive person matters, so keep the following ideas in mind.
STICK TO THE FACTS
People won’t apologize if they’re feeling overly accused or pushed to assume more than their fair share of the blame. As one man put it, “When my wife criticizes me, I don’t want to apologize because I feel like I’m putting my head on the chopping block. If I apologize, I’m agreeing with her that I’m the whole problem, which isn’t true.” Even a slight exaggeration of the facts can kick up the other person’s defensiveness. If your partner came home late from work six times last month, and you accuse him of coming home late eight times, he’ll likely focus on correcting the facts, rather than taking in your legitimate complaint.
Anyone who is criticized inaccurately will listen defensively. When we listen defensively, we automatically focus on the exaggerations, distortions, and inaccuracies that indeed may be there, rather than listen for the essence of what’s being said. Then we may swing into debate mode to correct the facts. Once in debate mode, an apology feels like losing.
If you want to invite the other person to consider his behavior and offer an apology, remember the most basic rule of good communication. Criticize the behavior, not the person. But under the sway of strong emotions we may automatically ramp up the intensity. Paradoxically, it’s in our most enduring and important relationships that we’re least likely to be our most mature and thoughtful selves.
OVERDOING IT CAN BE SUBTLE
Sometimes overdoing a criticism is hard to spot because it’s subtle. We may be holding the other person responsible not only for their behavior, but also for our reaction to it. My friend Bob told me this story: My home office has been a mess lately, and Jill, who shares the space, is a much more organized person than I am. After glancing at the stacks of papers everywhere on my desk and floor, she said to me: “When I walk into this room, I feel like our household is totally falling apart.” Totally falling apart! Our household? I’m her hardworking faithful partner of fourteen years and because my half of the office is a mess, she feels like everything is crumbling around her? And yet when I said, “That’s a pretty extreme statement,” she simply responded, “Well, it’s how I feel.” Bob picked up his papers from the floor, but didn’t muster up the maturity to apologize. As he put it, “The accusation was simply too much.” Despite Jill’s attempt to couch it in “I-language,” it was a broad condemnation in both content and tone. From Jill’s perspective, she was sharing her feelings. But Bob felt like he was being held responsible not only for his messiness, but also for her feeling like their household was falling apart. This made it more difficult for him to apologize for his inconsiderate behavior. He cleaned up his mess, but felt more like the victim than the inconsiderate one.
SAY IT SHORTER. WHY LESS IS MORE
Here’s an incredibly important principle for the hurt or angry party that is simple to understand in theory, but difficult to put into practice. Say it shorter. If you’re trying to get through to a non-apologizer—or any difficult or defensive person—keep in mind that overtalking on your part will lead to under listening from the other. This is true whether the offense you’re addressing is large or small. People take in very little information when they don’t want to hear what you’re saying. If you go on too long, you’re actually protecting the other person from taking in your anger or pain, because that person will shut down and vacate the emotional premises. He or she won’t have the space to sit with what you’ve said and to consider the valid point you may be making. It doesn’t matter how old or young that other person happens to be.
When we believe we won’t get through to the offending party, we often increase the intensity and lengthen our arguments. This does not help—and usually hurts. We may not recognize that our tone of voice or the sheer number of sentences may be the culprit. Despite a lifetime of bad results, many people keep believing that the more details they include in their efforts to get through, the more the other person will see the irrefutable truth of their point and realize the extent of the hurt they have caused. I haven’t done a large-scale study, but my observations suggest that the higher the word count on an emotionally loaded subject, the faster the other person shuts down. Try the experiment of saying a criticism in three sentences or less to the offending party, and leave it at that: “I want you to say thank you when I drive you places,” or “You forgot to take the garbage out for the second week in a row,” or “I feel uncomfortable about how much you drank at the party. Then you were rude to my mother, and that’s not acceptable.” Keep the edge out of your voice, because intensity and reactivity will only lead to more of the same. Obviously, longer conversations are necessary on many subjects to repair a disconnection and to let the other person understand the full measure of your anger or pain. But these important conversations will go better if you practice brevity on the smaller things.
SHAMING NEVER HELPS
I recently overheard a mother disciplining a child who had taken a fistful of candy off the shelves of a local supermarket and stuffed it in his jacket pocket, only to be discovered upon leaving the premises. The conversation began well. The mom said, “It’s wrong to take something that isn’t yours. It’s also against the law. Let’s go back inside the store and you can apologize for taking the candy.” When her son said nothing, however, the mother quickly moved from criticizing his behavior (what he did) to attacking his character (who he was). “I cannot believe you did this! I always thought that you were an honest boy and now I can’t trust you. I am so disappointed in you.” The boy was probably all of seven. “I’m sorry,” the boy said, head down, eyes averted. Shaming people-–whether they are seven or seventy—may indeed force an apology, but that apology is likely to be motivated by the wish to escape the intolerable feeling of being shamed. A shamed person wants to fold up and disappear, so an apology becomes a quick way to exit the situation. You can shame someone into saying they are sorry with a one-liner, because shame is that powerful. If you shame someone in a lesser position of power, it can lead that person to conform, obey, and give the obligatory apology. But shame will not inspire reflection, self-observation, and personal growth. These are essentially self-loving tasks that do not flourish in an atmosphere of self-depreciation and self-blame. One of my favorite Peanuts cartoons shows Charlie Brown consulting with Lucy at her five-cents psychiatrist booth. “The trouble with you, Charlie Brown,” she says, “is that you’re you.” What is Charlie Brown to do with that? We can apologize for what we do. We cannot apologize for who we are. When we go from criticizing specific behaviors to taking a hatchet to someone’s already rickety self-worth, we narrow the possibility that they will be able to consider their harmful behaviors, feel empathy and remorse, and be motivated to make amends. Shaming will also fundamentally harm your relationship with the other person, even if the damage doesn’t show up till many years later.
DID THE WRONGDOER “CAUSE” YOUR FEELINGS AND BEHAVIOR?
The other person is more likely to be accountable and to apologize when we are able to share our thoughts and feelings without holding that person responsible for causing them. This is what “I-language” is all about.
We are responsible for our own behavior. But we are not responsible for other people’s reactions, nor are they responsible for ours.
We can all think of situations where one person’s terrible behavior (a profound betrayal) is arguably responsible for causing the other person’s reaction, and we are taught to view human transactions in simple cause-and-effect terms. But relationship systems typically don’t operate in a simple linear fashion. Consider the husband who has an ongoing love affair in a marriage where he has vowed to be monogamous. He is, indeed, responsible for his actions, which include not only whom he lies with (the affair partner) but also whom he lies to (his wife). The husband is the only one responsible for his deception. His wife did not cause the affair, whether through her emotional distance, readiness to criticize, sexual unavailability, chronic illness, or her thirty extra pounds. She may have contributed to the likelihood of an infidelity, but many husbands do not handle marital problems or any of life’s other stresses by having affairs.
Now consider the reaction of the wife who discovers this terrible betrayal. Perhaps one woman becomes so depressed that she takes her life. Another woman leaves the marriage and avoids any possibility of future relationships, saying she will never be able to trust again. A third woman, post-divorce, happily remarries, with a man who is loving and responsible. Did the unfaithful partner make the first wife commit suicide? Did he cause the second woman to never trust a man again? Was he responsible for the third woman feeling happier than ever before in her new marriage? We might even add a hypothetical fourth wife, who upon discovering the affair feels abject relief. “Now I can finally leave this guy,” she tells herself, “and I don’t have to worry about my parents blaming me for the divorce.” Should her husband be credited for doing a good deed?
If you are the person offering an apology, it is essential to speak the language of cause-and-effect, and to take unambiguous responsibility for the consequences of your actions and its impact on the other person. It is the only way to acknowledge the specific ways your actions have resulted in the other person’s hurt or suffering.
When you are the harmed party, however, and you want the defensive person who hurt you to take responsibility for his or her behavior, you have a different challenge. Try sharing your reactions without holding the other person responsible for causing your feelings. There is greater clarity and self-empowerment in saying, “When I discovered what you did, I felt devastated and crazy,” rather than, “You made me feel devastated and crazy.”
A FINAL WORD OF ADVICE
Don’t demand an apology. Requesting an apology is fine, but demanding one is counterproductive. On the couples’ front, psychologist Ellen Wachtel notes, “Demanding an apology can be harmful. Your partner may feel as if he or she is being asked to grovel. There is something humiliating about being forced to apologize on demand. It can make the apologizer feel like a child or like someone lacking in self-respect.” People do not respond well to being told how they should think, feel, or behave—and that includes being told to apologize. You’ll have a better chance of getting through if you don’t try to “make” the other person say they’re sorry. And if the other person apologizes because you’ve demanded it, his or her words won’t be sincerely felt. Instead, try to model the heartfelt, spontaneous apology that you would like to receive. And be generous in accepting the apology offered to you in good faith.
HOW TO ACCEPT, OR NOT ACCEPT, AN APOLOGY
IT TAKES COURAGE TO SAY “THANK YOU FOR THE APOLOGY”
A surprising number of people have difficulty saying, “Thank you for the apology. I appreciate it.” Many of us dismiss apologies that the other person has gathered the courage to make because we want to end an uncomfortable moment as quickly as possible, even if this means telling the person who is apologizing that it’s nothing, no big deal, and he shouldn’t even think about it. Of course, he should and did think about it, or else he wouldn’t be offering the apology.
If the other person has pushed through his or her discomfort to do the right thing and apologize, we can push through our discomfort and say, “Thanks for the apology.” It’s important to resist the temptation to cancel the effort at repair that a genuine apology is.
GIVE THE OTHER PERSON THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT
We can’t always rank the other person’s sincerity quotient when they tell us they’re sorry, and it can be counterproductive to try to assess it. Anxiety or discomfort can make the apologizer sound robotic. Plus, it can take time to genuinely feel sorry when confronted with a complaint.
NOT EVERYTHING IS FORGIVABLE
Accepting an apology doesn’t always mean reconciliation. The best apology in the world can’t restore every connection. The words “I’m sorry” may be absurdly inadequate even if sincerely offered. Sometimes the foundation of trust on which a relationship was built cannot be repaired. We may never want to see the person who hurt us again. We can still accept the apology.
THE COURAGE TO SAY “I DON’T ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY”
Sometimes we don’t accept an apology for good reason. Perhaps the apologizer hasn’t really listened, or just can’t get it, or implies that it’s our overreaction or misreading of things that’s the real problem. Or perhaps we’re tired of hearing an apology or a passionate expression of remorse that’s obviously empty because the person continues the very behavior that they are apologizing for, whether it’s checking their phone during mealtime or failing to do the things that they’ve promised to do. If the person has not put a sincere effort into ensuring that there is no repeat performance, we’re likely to let them know that we don’t want to hear their repeated apologies. When an apology sounds false or tries to reverse blame, it can take courage to call the person on it.
LEAN INTO GENEROSITY
As a general rule, consider keeping your default position as accepting the olive branch, even if privately you’re unhappy with aspects of the apology. Of course, there will be exceptions, but in general, it’s simply not useful to get into a tug-of-war about apologies or to expect that the other person’s apology will meet all the criteria of the effective apology that I outline in this book. Erring on the side of acceptance will create more possibilities for the future of the relationship.
Accepting an apology or peace offering does not necessarily mean that you are finished talking about a painful issue or that you forgive the other person for what they’ve said or done, or not said or done. It can be less a way of saying, “Okay, the past is past and there is no need to revisit it,” and more a way of saying that there is still a future in which something other than anger and resentment is possible.
Accepting an attempt to apologize simply means that you agree to end a fight, lower the intensity, and open a space for moving forward with goodwill. This will also pave the way for the possibility of more conversation on the very subject you may still be angry about. Of course, some apologies don’t merit our acceptance, but in general it’s best to accept an apology with a generous spirit and see where the relationship can go from there.
A surprising number of people have difficulty saying, “Thank you for the apology. I appreciate it.” Many of us dismiss apologies that the other person has gathered the courage to make because we want to end an uncomfortable moment as quickly as possible, even if this means telling the person who is apologizing that it’s nothing, no big deal, and he shouldn’t even think about it. Of course, he should and did think about it, or else he wouldn’t be offering the apology.
If the other person has pushed through his or her discomfort to do the right thing and apologize, we can push through our discomfort and say, “Thanks for the apology.” It’s important to resist the temptation to cancel the effort at repair that a genuine apology is.
GIVE THE OTHER PERSON THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT
We can’t always rank the other person’s sincerity quotient when they tell us they’re sorry, and it can be counterproductive to try to assess it. Anxiety or discomfort can make the apologizer sound robotic. Plus, it can take time to genuinely feel sorry when confronted with a complaint.
NOT EVERYTHING IS FORGIVABLE
Accepting an apology doesn’t always mean reconciliation. The best apology in the world can’t restore every connection. The words “I’m sorry” may be absurdly inadequate even if sincerely offered. Sometimes the foundation of trust on which a relationship was built cannot be repaired. We may never want to see the person who hurt us again. We can still accept the apology.
THE COURAGE TO SAY “I DON’T ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY”
Sometimes we don’t accept an apology for good reason. Perhaps the apologizer hasn’t really listened, or just can’t get it, or implies that it’s our overreaction or misreading of things that’s the real problem. Or perhaps we’re tired of hearing an apology or a passionate expression of remorse that’s obviously empty because the person continues the very behavior that they are apologizing for, whether it’s checking their phone during mealtime or failing to do the things that they’ve promised to do. If the person has not put a sincere effort into ensuring that there is no repeat performance, we’re likely to let them know that we don’t want to hear their repeated apologies. When an apology sounds false or tries to reverse blame, it can take courage to call the person on it.
LEAN INTO GENEROSITY
As a general rule, consider keeping your default position as accepting the olive branch, even if privately you’re unhappy with aspects of the apology. Of course, there will be exceptions, but in general, it’s simply not useful to get into a tug-of-war about apologies or to expect that the other person’s apology will meet all the criteria of the effective apology that I outline in this book. Erring on the side of acceptance will create more possibilities for the future of the relationship.
Accepting an apology or peace offering does not necessarily mean that you are finished talking about a painful issue or that you forgive the other person for what they’ve said or done, or not said or done. It can be less a way of saying, “Okay, the past is past and there is no need to revisit it,” and more a way of saying that there is still a future in which something other than anger and resentment is possible.
Accepting an attempt to apologize simply means that you agree to end a fight, lower the intensity, and open a space for moving forward with goodwill. This will also pave the way for the possibility of more conversation on the very subject you may still be angry about. Of course, some apologies don’t merit our acceptance, but in general it’s best to accept an apology with a generous spirit and see where the relationship can go from there.
WHO IS AT FAULT WHEN RECONCILIATION GRINDS TO A HALT?
It’s in our most enduring and significant relationships that people become too mad to apologize. One or both parties may be convinced that the relationship can’t move forward if the other doesn’t consider his or her behavior and apologize for it. Yet there may be little agreement on who started it, what the offense is, what’s required to mend it, and who needs to apologize first. You can learn the “how-to’s” of crafting an excellent apology, but that won’t help you if you don’t have the motivation to offer one. Under stress, people easily get polarized and divide into opposing camps. We get overfocused on what the other party is doing to us or not doing for us, and under focused on our own creative options to move differently and de-intensify the situation. We want change but we don’t want to change first—a great recipe for relationship failure.
We automatically look for the one to blame, the person who “started it,” but relationships don’t work that way. Both observers are right and both are wrong. Relationships operate in a circular, not linear, fashion, the behavior of each person provoking and reinforcing the behavior of the other. The real question is not who started it, or who is to blame, but rather what each person can do to change his or her steps in the dance.
"I'M SORRY FOR MY PART" IS A GOOD FIRST STEP
Apologizing for our part is a good thing to do, when we know what our part is. It’s not a real apology to say, “I’m sorry for my part,” if we have zero motivation to observe and change our contribution and we think our behavior is necessary and justified because we’re giving that person what they need or deserve.
While a simple apology can often repair specific hurts and grievances, entrenched patterns like this one need a different approach. While it’s ideal for two people to be working on changing their part in a relationship problem, it’s more common that only one person (usually the person in more pain) has his or her motor running for change. Happily, even a slight modification by one person can make a big difference, because once you change your steps the old dance can’t continue as usual.
The courage and clarity to define our bottom line, which includes our needs and the limits of our tolerance, is at the heart of having both a relationship and a self. Doing so is ultimately an act of kindness and respect. Most pursuers would rather be confronted by a strong partner with a clear request for a behavioral change, than be met with silence. A firm constructive complaint lets your partner know that you care about making the relationship better and that you’re willing to fight for it.
CHANGE IS A LONG TERM PROJECT
These are good guidelines to follow in any relationship.
IT’S A LONG-DISTANCE RUN
We can apologize to someone in thirty seconds, but changing our part in a relationship impasse is a long-distance run that takes endurance, and the capacity to push forward in the face of enormous resistance from within and without. At the same time, the process requires restraint. It asks us to sit still when we feel fired up to speak and act, and to have the wisdom and intuition to know how and when to say what to whom.
Changing an entrenched pattern also requires patience. The substantive changes that give an apology its meaning may occur slowly. It’s the direction, not the speed, of travel that matters.
We automatically look for the one to blame, the person who “started it,” but relationships don’t work that way. Both observers are right and both are wrong. Relationships operate in a circular, not linear, fashion, the behavior of each person provoking and reinforcing the behavior of the other. The real question is not who started it, or who is to blame, but rather what each person can do to change his or her steps in the dance.
"I'M SORRY FOR MY PART" IS A GOOD FIRST STEP
Apologizing for our part is a good thing to do, when we know what our part is. It’s not a real apology to say, “I’m sorry for my part,” if we have zero motivation to observe and change our contribution and we think our behavior is necessary and justified because we’re giving that person what they need or deserve.
While a simple apology can often repair specific hurts and grievances, entrenched patterns like this one need a different approach. While it’s ideal for two people to be working on changing their part in a relationship problem, it’s more common that only one person (usually the person in more pain) has his or her motor running for change. Happily, even a slight modification by one person can make a big difference, because once you change your steps the old dance can’t continue as usual.
The courage and clarity to define our bottom line, which includes our needs and the limits of our tolerance, is at the heart of having both a relationship and a self. Doing so is ultimately an act of kindness and respect. Most pursuers would rather be confronted by a strong partner with a clear request for a behavioral change, than be met with silence. A firm constructive complaint lets your partner know that you care about making the relationship better and that you’re willing to fight for it.
CHANGE IS A LONG TERM PROJECT
These are good guidelines to follow in any relationship.
- To offer an apology when an apology is due.
- To make the other feel special, valued, and chosen.
- To respect differences, including different ways of responding to stress.
- To focus on changing their own steps in the dance rather than waiting for the other to change first.
- To stop the negative comments that erode the foundation of marriage and friendship, and replace them with positive ones.
IT’S A LONG-DISTANCE RUN
We can apologize to someone in thirty seconds, but changing our part in a relationship impasse is a long-distance run that takes endurance, and the capacity to push forward in the face of enormous resistance from within and without. At the same time, the process requires restraint. It asks us to sit still when we feel fired up to speak and act, and to have the wisdom and intuition to know how and when to say what to whom.
Changing an entrenched pattern also requires patience. The substantive changes that give an apology its meaning may occur slowly. It’s the direction, not the speed, of travel that matters.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO FORGIVE?
Many come to therapy seeking relief from unrepaired hurts from the recent and far past. The person who has hurt them has not earned forgiveness, whether through the simple act of saying, “I was wrong. I’m sorry,” or through a longer process. Many who talk about forgiveness are really talking about their desire to rid themselves of anger, bitterness, resentment, and pain. They want to feel like “a good person” and not like a spiteful, vengeful individual who sits around wishing that their best friend who violated an important confidence, or gossiped behind their back, would suffer some terrible misfortune. “I want to forgive” translates to, “I want to get past this and find some peace of mind.”
Other individuals do seek to forgive the nonrepentant wrongdoer in the most profound spiritual sense of the word. Forgiveness may be a key part of their religious beliefs or central to their worldview. But many people just want the burden of their anger and resentment to go away. Words or phrases like resolution, detachment, moving on, or letting go may better describe what they seek.
Letting go means protecting ourselves from the corrosive effects of staying stuck. Chronic anger and bitterness dissipate our energy and sap our creativity, to say nothing of ruining an otherwise good day. If nonproductive anger keeps us stuck in the past, we can’t fully inhabit the present, nor can we move forward into the future with our full potential for optimism and joy. There is a difference between healthy anger that preserves the dignity and integrity of the self, and ruminative anger that wakes us up at three in the morning to nurse past and present grievances and drum up fantasies of revenge. The latter accomplishes nothing except to make us unhappy.
Yet whether we have experienced a small hurt or a big betrayal, we don’t need to forgive the actions of an unapologetic offender to find peace of mind. We do need, over time, to dissipate its emotional charge. We need to accept the reality that sometimes the wrongdoer is unreachable and unrepentant—or perhaps long dead—and we have a choice as to whether we continue to carry the wrongdoing on our shoulders or not.
Letting go is certainly not easy, but forgiveness need not be a part of that process when the wrongdoer has done nothing to earn it. There is no one path to healing.
The conflating of letting go with forgiving confounds much of what’s written about the necessity to forgive. If you read the research findings stating that nonforgiveness is bad for your well-being, the research might more accurately state that chronic, nonproductive anger and bitterness is bad for your health. Or that compassion and empathy, even for those who hurt us, are good things to cultivate. It’s hard to argue with that. It’s simply that none of these good things require forgiveness.
Many people use the word for an experience of letting go of a hurt over time. They’ve stopped obsessing about the injury, and when they recall the hurtful behavior of the offender it has no emotional charge. When they talk about forgiving they are saying that when they think of the past offense it no longer bothers them. Or that sometimes the anger surfaces, but with decreasing frequency and intensity, and they have more distance from it.
Other people hold the word forgiveness to a high spiritual standard. “When I forgive, I surround the wrongdoer with love and light. I carry loving kindness in my heart for that person and wish them happiness and well-being.” I have worked with people who possess a special capacity for forgiving the unforgivable, who teach and practice radical forgiveness—a form of love and compassion that is possible even for the most heinous acts and the most horrific of situations.
Forgiveness, from this latter perspective, does not just involve letting go for the sake of the hurt party. It goes further, recognizing the pain of the wrongdoer and wishing that he or she be happy and well. Not everyone is capable of radical forgiveness, nor does everyone strive for it. There is nothing lesser or closed-hearted about the person who seeks alternative strategies to releasing themselves from life-draining anger, bitterness, and pain.
For me, the word forgive is much like the word respect. It can’t be commanded or demanded or forced, or gifted for no reason at all. When it comes to our close relationships, I agree with the words of Janis Abrahms Spring: “You don’t restore your humanity when you forgive an unapologetic offender; he restores his humanity when he works to earn your forgiveness.”
Other individuals do seek to forgive the nonrepentant wrongdoer in the most profound spiritual sense of the word. Forgiveness may be a key part of their religious beliefs or central to their worldview. But many people just want the burden of their anger and resentment to go away. Words or phrases like resolution, detachment, moving on, or letting go may better describe what they seek.
Letting go means protecting ourselves from the corrosive effects of staying stuck. Chronic anger and bitterness dissipate our energy and sap our creativity, to say nothing of ruining an otherwise good day. If nonproductive anger keeps us stuck in the past, we can’t fully inhabit the present, nor can we move forward into the future with our full potential for optimism and joy. There is a difference between healthy anger that preserves the dignity and integrity of the self, and ruminative anger that wakes us up at three in the morning to nurse past and present grievances and drum up fantasies of revenge. The latter accomplishes nothing except to make us unhappy.
Yet whether we have experienced a small hurt or a big betrayal, we don’t need to forgive the actions of an unapologetic offender to find peace of mind. We do need, over time, to dissipate its emotional charge. We need to accept the reality that sometimes the wrongdoer is unreachable and unrepentant—or perhaps long dead—and we have a choice as to whether we continue to carry the wrongdoing on our shoulders or not.
Letting go is certainly not easy, but forgiveness need not be a part of that process when the wrongdoer has done nothing to earn it. There is no one path to healing.
The conflating of letting go with forgiving confounds much of what’s written about the necessity to forgive. If you read the research findings stating that nonforgiveness is bad for your well-being, the research might more accurately state that chronic, nonproductive anger and bitterness is bad for your health. Or that compassion and empathy, even for those who hurt us, are good things to cultivate. It’s hard to argue with that. It’s simply that none of these good things require forgiveness.
Many people use the word for an experience of letting go of a hurt over time. They’ve stopped obsessing about the injury, and when they recall the hurtful behavior of the offender it has no emotional charge. When they talk about forgiving they are saying that when they think of the past offense it no longer bothers them. Or that sometimes the anger surfaces, but with decreasing frequency and intensity, and they have more distance from it.
Other people hold the word forgiveness to a high spiritual standard. “When I forgive, I surround the wrongdoer with love and light. I carry loving kindness in my heart for that person and wish them happiness and well-being.” I have worked with people who possess a special capacity for forgiving the unforgivable, who teach and practice radical forgiveness—a form of love and compassion that is possible even for the most heinous acts and the most horrific of situations.
Forgiveness, from this latter perspective, does not just involve letting go for the sake of the hurt party. It goes further, recognizing the pain of the wrongdoer and wishing that he or she be happy and well. Not everyone is capable of radical forgiveness, nor does everyone strive for it. There is nothing lesser or closed-hearted about the person who seeks alternative strategies to releasing themselves from life-draining anger, bitterness, and pain.
For me, the word forgive is much like the word respect. It can’t be commanded or demanded or forced, or gifted for no reason at all. When it comes to our close relationships, I agree with the words of Janis Abrahms Spring: “You don’t restore your humanity when you forgive an unapologetic offender; he restores his humanity when he works to earn your forgiveness.”
HOW TO FIND PEACE
Don’t take things quite so personally; unhappiness or insecurity can make people say stupid things. When other people act badly, it has to do with them, not with you. This perspective and help you be less reactive, to pass on less intensity than you receive, to see people as more complex than their worst behaviors, to develop empathy, and to be curious about why people do what they do.
“I JUST WANT TO UNDERSTAND!”
Where there has been no apology and no way to make sense of an injury, the hurt party often tells me: “I just need to understand how he could have done this to me. Then I could let it go.” “What was going on in her mind? How can she live with herself? Does she even think about it?” “How can someone who loves me behave this way?” How do we explain the inexplicable? Not simply the rudeness of strangers, but the hurtful actions of the very people who were supposed to nurture and protect us. Why did they leave us so totally alone, fail to protect or rescue us, or otherwise behave very badly? This is a puzzle that a child may struggle with even before she has the words to articulate it. “Is it because I am too good or too bad, too pretty or too ugly, too special or too worthless, too needy or too unable to fix my parent’s need?”
Children seek meaning for the hurtful behavior of family members very early on, often relying on self-blaming fantasies that serve to preserve their image of the “good parent” on whom they utterly depend. Children have a strong sense of justice combined with an equally strong wish to forgive those they depend on and love. In our adult relationships, we may still be struggling with this same question. “Why would someone who loves me behave this way?” We may replay a version of our painful past, for example, by our poor choice of friends or partners. It’s not that we have a masochistic wish to repeat history. Instead, we may be attempting to heal the past, by changing this person through the power of our love, goodness, suffering, or saintlike patience and tolerance. Perhaps if we try hard enough, we can give an old story a different ending. Or, if not that, perhaps we can figure out at last what makes a wrongdoer tick, or so the fantasy goes.
BALANCING THE SCALES OF JUSTICE
The wish to make sense of the wrongdoer is only part of the picture. The hurt party who says, “I just want to understand!” may also want the unrepentant wrongdoer to suffer the way he has made her suffer—a perfectly normal human impulse.
Losses we don’t see coming are the most difficult to deal with. And sometimes the hardest part of a painful ordeal is that the wrongdoer doesn’t seem to suffer at all.
When the non-apologetic wrongdoer has never been accountable, our reactive brain excels in rehashing grievances (“How could my ex do this to the children?”). Our anger may be totally legitimate, but rather than leading to productive problem-solving, it just digs a big negative groove in our brain and disrupts our sleep. If, however, we soften our hearts toward the target of our resentment or hatred, or start letting the anger recede into the background, we may be confronted by a new set of challenges that we don’t anticipate. Sometimes it’s easier to cling to old resentments, and continue to carry their full weight, than to put down the heavy load of resentment and hurt.
“LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME!”
Sometimes we are just not ready to detach from our anger. It’s not that we take some twisted pleasure in feeling like the done-in partner, although we may have grown accustomed over time to wrapping pain and suffering around ourselves like an old, familiar blanket. More importantly, staying angry and “done in” can serve us, without our conscious awareness or intent, in the following four ways.
There are countless resources out there to aid us with the process of letting go, when we have the will and intention to move in this direction. Therapy, meditations, medication, yoga, religious and spiritual practices, exercise, writing and making art, breathing and relaxation exercises, and being useful to others, are just a few of the available paths and concrete strategies to help us stop nursing past grievances and live more peacefully in the present. How do you find peace when the hurt you’ve suffered will never be acknowledged or repaired by the one who inflicted it? The answer is as simple as the challenge is daunting. Any way you can. It’s worthwhile finding a concrete strategy, healing practice, or larger perspective that suits you, or a new way of thinking that speaks to you. While you’re ruminating about the terrible things your ex (or mother or Uncle Charlie) did to you, and making yourself miserable in the process, the person who has hurt you may be having a fabulous day at the beach. This is as good a reason as any to make use of the resources that are out there to help you grab a bit more peace of mind. The hardest part is that it requires us to accept that the offending party is never going to apologize, never going to see himself or herself objectively, never going to listen to our feelings with the slightest openness of mind or heart. Letting go of anger and hate requires us to give up the hope for a different past, along with the hope of a fantasized future. What we gain is a life more in the present, where we are not mired in prolonged anger and resentment that doesn’t serve us.
“I JUST WANT TO UNDERSTAND!”
Where there has been no apology and no way to make sense of an injury, the hurt party often tells me: “I just need to understand how he could have done this to me. Then I could let it go.” “What was going on in her mind? How can she live with herself? Does she even think about it?” “How can someone who loves me behave this way?” How do we explain the inexplicable? Not simply the rudeness of strangers, but the hurtful actions of the very people who were supposed to nurture and protect us. Why did they leave us so totally alone, fail to protect or rescue us, or otherwise behave very badly? This is a puzzle that a child may struggle with even before she has the words to articulate it. “Is it because I am too good or too bad, too pretty or too ugly, too special or too worthless, too needy or too unable to fix my parent’s need?”
Children seek meaning for the hurtful behavior of family members very early on, often relying on self-blaming fantasies that serve to preserve their image of the “good parent” on whom they utterly depend. Children have a strong sense of justice combined with an equally strong wish to forgive those they depend on and love. In our adult relationships, we may still be struggling with this same question. “Why would someone who loves me behave this way?” We may replay a version of our painful past, for example, by our poor choice of friends or partners. It’s not that we have a masochistic wish to repeat history. Instead, we may be attempting to heal the past, by changing this person through the power of our love, goodness, suffering, or saintlike patience and tolerance. Perhaps if we try hard enough, we can give an old story a different ending. Or, if not that, perhaps we can figure out at last what makes a wrongdoer tick, or so the fantasy goes.
BALANCING THE SCALES OF JUSTICE
The wish to make sense of the wrongdoer is only part of the picture. The hurt party who says, “I just want to understand!” may also want the unrepentant wrongdoer to suffer the way he has made her suffer—a perfectly normal human impulse.
Losses we don’t see coming are the most difficult to deal with. And sometimes the hardest part of a painful ordeal is that the wrongdoer doesn’t seem to suffer at all.
When the non-apologetic wrongdoer has never been accountable, our reactive brain excels in rehashing grievances (“How could my ex do this to the children?”). Our anger may be totally legitimate, but rather than leading to productive problem-solving, it just digs a big negative groove in our brain and disrupts our sleep. If, however, we soften our hearts toward the target of our resentment or hatred, or start letting the anger recede into the background, we may be confronted by a new set of challenges that we don’t anticipate. Sometimes it’s easier to cling to old resentments, and continue to carry their full weight, than to put down the heavy load of resentment and hurt.
“LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME!”
Sometimes we are just not ready to detach from our anger. It’s not that we take some twisted pleasure in feeling like the done-in partner, although we may have grown accustomed over time to wrapping pain and suffering around ourselves like an old, familiar blanket. More importantly, staying angry and “done in” can serve us, without our conscious awareness or intent, in the following four ways.
- First, our suffering can be our way of taking revenge, by showing the other person as well as the world how deeply his or her behavior has harmed us. To move forward in our lives, to really get back on our feet, may feel akin to forgiving the one who injured us, as if we were saying: “Okay, I’m doing pretty well now, so I guess your behavior didn’t really hurt me that much.”
- Second, the anger we allow ourselves to feel toward one offending individual can serve to protect a different and more important relationship. You can’t forgive your daughter-in-law’s rudeness, which allows you to avoid experiencing any anger at your own son’s passivity, as he takes no responsibility for how you are treated by his wife. You have never felt the anger at your father’s longtime demeaning and arrogant behaviors, but then you cut off contact with your brother because he failed to come to Dad’s funeral. You blame your alcoholic ex-wife for the irresponsible ways she behaved when your children were in her care post-divorce, because it protects you from experiencing your own shame for failing to protect your kids, knowing as you did that your ex was not competent to take care of them. We’re unlikely to let go of a negative focus on one person if it allows us to protect our favored image of a different person or relationship, including our relationship with our own self.
- The third reason we may resist letting go of our anger is that it keeps us connected to the very person who has hurt us. Anger is a form of intense (albeit negative) attachment just like love. Both anger and love keep us close to the other person, which is why so many couples are legally divorced, but not emotionally divorced. If, many years post-separation, you still can’t talk on the phone or be in the same room with your ex-spouse without feeling your stomach clutch, then you’re still attached.
- Finally, clinging to an angry internal dialogue keeps the fantasy of obtaining justice alive—that one magical day when the offender will have a Eureka! experience and see what he’s done. No one makes a plan to cling to a connection that gives the offender so much power over our current emotional life. Yet, as Katrina’s story illustrates, it is so hard to let go of this hope.
There are countless resources out there to aid us with the process of letting go, when we have the will and intention to move in this direction. Therapy, meditations, medication, yoga, religious and spiritual practices, exercise, writing and making art, breathing and relaxation exercises, and being useful to others, are just a few of the available paths and concrete strategies to help us stop nursing past grievances and live more peacefully in the present. How do you find peace when the hurt you’ve suffered will never be acknowledged or repaired by the one who inflicted it? The answer is as simple as the challenge is daunting. Any way you can. It’s worthwhile finding a concrete strategy, healing practice, or larger perspective that suits you, or a new way of thinking that speaks to you. While you’re ruminating about the terrible things your ex (or mother or Uncle Charlie) did to you, and making yourself miserable in the process, the person who has hurt you may be having a fabulous day at the beach. This is as good a reason as any to make use of the resources that are out there to help you grab a bit more peace of mind. The hardest part is that it requires us to accept that the offending party is never going to apologize, never going to see himself or herself objectively, never going to listen to our feelings with the slightest openness of mind or heart. Letting go of anger and hate requires us to give up the hope for a different past, along with the hope of a fantasized future. What we gain is a life more in the present, where we are not mired in prolonged anger and resentment that doesn’t serve us.