Apologizing is Good for You

even if it is super embarrassing

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Last week, a neighbor pulled me aside at the school bus stop. My son had been teasing their child at school, and could I please speak with him? The request was completely reasonable, but still I cycled through feelings of surprise, embarrassment, and defensiveness. I managed to croak out, “Of course!” then ruminated about it for a good twenty minutes.

Apologies are tough. I am not good at them! I have no problem saying sorry for things that don’t actually matter (being two minutes late, overcooking the chicken) but when it comes to bigger things, I tend to take things too personally and become defensive. I’m not alone in this; my 12-step support group sums it up thusly, “we mistake any personal criticism as a threat.” Yup, that’s me.

Maybe this partially owes to my upbringing, but I also think it comes down to a culture that does little to differentiate between criticizing an action vs. criticizing the person performing that action. We want to divide the world into “good” and “bad” people—the “good” being the ones who agree with our politics, consume the same media and shop at the same stores as we do. In this sort of culture, owning the harm we’ve done might mean exclusion from the “good” group.

Another word for this threat of exclusion is “shame.” We are a culture that loves to shame people and ourselves.

I want to think of myself as a good mother who is raising good children. You know, the kind with an enviable Instagram account full of smiling family photos. And these smiling Instagram moms have children who are earnest and sweet, who NEVER pick on each other. But that’s not real life, is it? In real life, we’re all assholes sometimes. That’s when we must learn how to make things right.

Being called out is a gift, though it might not seem like it. When someone is an asshole to you, your options are to a.) call them out or b.) try to ignore it. Sometimes the assholery is small enough that ignoring works, but I often find that ignoring bad behavior builds resentment and leads to relationship deterioration. Confronting someone gives them a chance to change and to strengthen the relationship. Engaging in this process of change is often referred to as repentance.

“Repentance” can be a triggering word for people with religious trauma. If you have experience in a high-control religion, you may have been coerced into repenting for myriad normal human urges and behaviors, or even the behavior of others. I know people who were coerced into “repenting” their sexual orientation or the fact that their boobs/butt/etc. were “distracting” others. If that’s you, I want to say: you are not responsible for other people’s behavior, nor your own innate characteristics. You don’t need to apologize for your feelings or for simply existing.

While the concept of repentance has often been abused, I don’t want to scrap it entirely. There are times when we harm others (or ourselves), and we need to change. And that’s what the repentance process is about—it’s far more than saying sorry. In On Repentance and Repair, Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg summarizes the work of Middle Ages Jewish scholar Maimonides into five steps:

1. Naming and owning harm

2. Starting to change

3. Restitution and accepting consequences

4. Apology

5. Making different choices

Ruttenberg emphasizes that this is a process, one that might take a long time. The onus is on the perpetrator to appease their victim by demonstrating a commitment to change. That means not repeating the offense. In fact, Ruttenberg goes so far as to say that doing so negates the apology.

This is radically different from what I learned growing up in Christianity, where much more emphasis was placed on The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant and forgiving someone for the same offense “seventy times seven” times. Is this 70x7 approach merciful? Or is it a license for continued bad (or even abusive) behavior? I’m not sure.

At any rate, I gently confronted my son about the teasing over an afterschool snack. We talked about why it bothered his classmate. I told him he had a chance now to improve their friendship by apologizing. We made a plan for him to apologize at the bus stop the next morning, and we practiced what he’d say.

When we arrived the next day, it was just us, the classmate, and their parent. I could tell my son was embarrassed and didn’t want to apologize. But I pointed out that it was probably going to be easier now than when more kids and parents arrived. With some prompting, he named what he’d said, apologized, and said he wouldn’t do it again. Afterward, everyone seemed very relieved. I felt so proud of him for doing the right thing, even though it was uncomfortable.

As a recovering perfectionist, I’m still getting used to the idea of admitting fault and making amends. I’m starting to see that doing so gives me the opportunity to change and grow, and to improve my relationships. Here’s the good news: you don’t need to be perfect to be accepted. You just need to be willing to admit when you screw up and try to do better.

Does anything surprise you about Ruttenberg’s 5 steps of amends making? Do you agree with her on these steps? Do you have any tips or tricks for apologizing? I’d love to read your thoughts in the comments.

BONUS MATERIALS:

• This book on religious trauma is BLOWING MY MIND

• Remember when Mario Batali included a weird cinnamon roll recipe in his public apology?

• The Simpsons teaches you what do to when someone forces you to say “I’m sorry” and you really don’t want to