The Art Of Genuine Apology: What People Get Wrong
Let’s be clear: a real apology isn’t about making yourself feel better. It’s not a performance. I’ve sat with soldiers who carried shame for years because they’d said, “I’m sorry you felt that way,” while avoiding the harm they caused. That’s not an apology. That’s a deflection.
Here’s what people misunderstand: - Myth: “Saying ‘sorry’ fixes everything.”
Reality: Words without action are just noise. If you say “I’m sorry” but don’t change your behavior, you’re retraumatizing someone.
- Myth: “Apologies are weak.”
Reality: Courage isn’t shouting. It’s naming the harm you caused, even when it’s uncomfortable. Courage isn’t what you think.
Genuine apology has three parts: 1. Acknowledge the specific harm (“I yelled at you during the meeting, and it made you feel dismissed”). 2. Take full ownership (“That was my fault. I was stressed, but that’s no excuse”). 3. Change your action (“I’ll pause before speaking in meetings now”).
Why does this matter? Because in trauma—whether from combat, a broken relationship, or a workplace betrayal—unaddressed harm festers. When someone says “I’m sorry” without meaning it, it tells the wounded person: Your pain doesn’t count. That’s the opposite of healing. I’ve seen first responders shut down completely after a hollow apology. They think, No one will ever see me.
Real apology rebuilds trust. It says, I see you. I own my part. I’ll do better. It’s not about you—it’s about the other person’s dignity.
So if you’ve hurt someone: - Stop saying “I’m sorry you felt that way.” - Name the harm. Own it. Change. - Then, do the work—not for them, but because you’re committed to being better.
This isn’t soft. It’s the hardest, most courageous thing you’ll ever do. And it’s the only way to break the cycle of pain.
— Lois Brown, still serving