Your Apology Sucks (Here’s Why)

Everyone's either giving one, waiting for one, or wishing they got a better one.

Photo by mark tulin on Unsplash

I remember sitting across from my partner after another fight, exhausted and raw, when he finally offered those words I'd been waiting for: "I'm sorry we fought."

That's it. That's all I got.

I sat there waiting for the rest—the acknowledgment, the specifics, anything that showed he actually understood what had happened between us. The silence stretched as I realized that two-word apology was the entirety of what he had to offer.

"What are you sorry for, exactly?" I finally asked.

His response? "Everything."

And just like that, what should have been a moment of healing became another wound. His vague, generic "sorry" felt faker than gas station sushi and just as likely to make me sick. It took me weeks to get over that fight—not because the issue itself was so terrible, but because the half-assed apology told me he either didn't understand or didn't care enough to try.

Everyone's either giving one, waiting for one, or wishing they got a better one. Apologies are the currency of connection—and most of us are emotionally broke.

Here's what I've learned since then: A bad apology is worse than no apology at all.

It's salt in the wound, confirmation that the person who hurt you still doesn't get it. And unfortunately, most of us are absolutely terrible at apologizing well.

Why We Suck at Saying Sorry

The truth about apologies is that they're not actually about words—they're about repair. And repair requires vulnerability, accountability, and the willingness to sit in discomfort without making it about you.

That's precisely why we're so bad at them.

When our ego enters the chat, genuine apology exits stage left. We say things like:

• "I'm sorry IF I hurt you"

• "I'm sorry you feel that way"

• "I'm sorry, but you also..."

• "I already said I'm sorry, what more do you want?"

These are not apologies—they're emotional disguises stitched together with ego and avoidance.

We do the same thing with our kids. How many times have you snapped at your child, felt that parental guilt tsunami, then quickly patched things over with "Sorry I yelled. Want some ice cream?" We sweep it under the rug because facing our mistakes head-on feels too vulnerable, too raw.

But here's the thing: every time we offer these hollow apologies, we're teaching the people around us—especially our children—that accountability is optional and image management matters more than genuine repair.

The Apology Languages We Need to Learn

Gary Chapman (with Jennifer Thomas) same relationship expert who gave us the five love languages, identified five apology languages in his book The Five Languages of Apology. Just like with love, different people need different types of apologies to feel that repair has truly happened:

1. Expressing regret - Communicating genuine remorse for your actions

2. Accepting responsibility - Admitting your role without excuses or blame-shifting

3. Making restitution - Taking concrete steps to make things right

4. Genuinely repenting - Committing to change and following through

5. Requesting forgiveness - Explicitly asking for forgiveness (not demanding it)

Understanding these languages is crucial because the apology that would heal you might not be the one that heals someone else. Your partner might need explicit accountability while your child might need physical reassurance. Your friend might need to hear how you'll change, while your coworker needs to see action first.

Good Apology vs. Bad Apology: A Cheat Sheet

Bad Apology: "I'm sorry."

Good Apology: "I'm sorry I dismissed your feelings. You deserved to be heard, and I wasn't listening. I'll be more present next time."

Bad Apology: "I said I'm sorry already! What else do you want from me?"

Good Apology: "I hurt you, and 'sorry' alone doesn't fix that. What do you need from me to help repair this?"

Bad Apology: "I'm sorry, but if you hadn't..."

Good Apology: "I'm sorry for how I responded. Regardless of what happened, my reaction was my choice, and I chose poorly."

Bad Apology: "Fine, I'm sorry. Happy now?"

Good Apology: "I was wrong. I value our relationship more than being right, and I'm committed to doing better."

The difference isn't just semantics—it's the difference between connection and contempt, between healing and festering wounds. A good apology creates the space for something new to grow between two people. A bad one builds another wall.

Teaching Our Children by Example

When my amygdala hijacks me after a long day—when the traffic and work stress and kids' chaos and the dog who decided today was a good day to pee on the carpet all collide—sometimes I snap. I lose my shit. I become the mom I swore I'd never be.

And in those moments, I have a choice that will shape how my children handle their own mistakes for decades to come.

I can brush it off. I can make excuses. I can pretend it didn't happen. Or I can sit down, look my child in the eye, and say: "I'm sorry I yelled at you. You didn't deserve that. I was stressed, but that's not your burden to carry. Next time, I'll take a breath before I respond. Is there anything you want to tell me about how that made you feel?"

This isn't just about making my kid feel better. It's about showing them what emotional intelligence looks like in action. It's demonstrating that adults make mistakes too—and more importantly, showing them how to own those mistakes without shame spiraling or deflecting.

Every time I apologize properly to my children, I'm giving them permission to be imperfectly human while still being accountable for their actions. That's a gift my generation didn't often receive, and it's one I'm determined to pass down.

The Hard Truth About Real Apologies

Here's what nobody tells you about meaningful apologies: they're excruciating. They require you to step outside the comforting narrative where you're always the hero of your own story.

A real apology demands that you:

• Face your shadow sides without flinching

• Acknowledge you've caused pain without immediately trying to "fix it"

• Take responsibility without the safety net of excuses

• Prioritize repair over being right

It's not easy work. It's not comfortable work. But it's necessary work—not just for your relationships, but for your own growth.

Confession:

When I wrote a letter to my grandparents in my twenties, apologizing for being an ungrateful teenager when they took me in during my mother's darkest times, I wasn't expecting anything back. They weren't even upset with me. We were on good terms.

But I needed to acknowledge what they had done for me and how poorly I had received it at times. My grandmother called after receiving my letter and assured me I wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. But that wasn't the point. The apology wasn't really for her—it was for me. It was about acknowledging my own humanity and making peace with the parts of myself I wasn't proud of.

The Repair That Changes Everything

The most powerful part of an apology isn't the "I'm sorry"—it's what comes after. It's the repair. The rebuilding. The recommitment.

Because here's what I know for certain: relationships aren't built on perfection. They're built on how we handle our imperfections.

Rupture happens in every meaningful human connection. It's inevitable. The question isn't whether you'll mess up—it's whether you know how to repair when you do. That's the difference between relationships that deepen over time and ones that slowly wither from unaddressed wounds.

When you apologize with intention—when you name what happened, take accountability, listen to the impact, and commit to change—you don't just fix a mistake. You create an opportunity for deeper connection than existed before the rupture.

That's the paradoxical power of a genuine apology: what broke the connection can ultimately make it stronger.

The Challenge

This week, I challenge you to notice your apology habits. When you mess up (not if, when), pay attention to your first instinct. Do you minimize? Deflect? Blame? Counter-attack? Or do you lean in, get curious, and take responsibility?

If you find yourself falling into bad apology patterns, don't beat yourself up—just notice. Awareness is always the first step toward change.

And the next time you need to apologize, try this: take a breath, set your ego aside, and ask yourself, "What would repair look like here?" Then do that, even if—especially if—it scares you.

Because at the end of the day, a sincere apology isn't a sign of weakness. It's one of the most profound demonstrations of strength you can offer—to yourself, and to those you love.

Ready to Transform Your Relationships?

If you're looking at your relationship patterns and realizing your apology style might be holding you back, you're not alone. This work isn't easy, but it's worth it.

Need support navigating these waters? Book a clarity call with me to unpack your specific relationship challenges and develop strategies that actually work. In just one session, we can identify your apology language and create a personalized plan for repairing the connections that matter most.

Want to go deeper? My book , I Am Amazing: How I Transformed Trauma into Happiness and Broke Free from the Past, walks you through the entire process of recognizing patterns, healing wounds, and building relationships that can withstand the inevitable ruptures of being human. Order your copy here and start transforming how you connect—with others and yourself.