Cast your mind back to the last time someone apologised to you.
Not a ‘nothing’ sorry, the kind we throw out after reaching for the same last piece of garlic bread, softly colliding in the hallway or before making a (very reasonable) request. But for something that was, intentionally or not, hurtful, disruptive, or irritating.
Maybe they ran 15 minutes late to dinner or made a slightly-too-savage joke about you to friends, forgot an important event or misplaced your favourite beach towel.
In other words, anything stung, grated, or inconvenienced you, perhaps a little more than you’d like to admit.
If you’re anything like me, you shot back a “no worries”, “it’s fine” or “all good” at such pace it was less a reply than a reflex; the verbal equivalent to slamming car brakes when the vehicle ahead does.
For the most part, it’s a reflex I thought little of until a few months ago, when my partner and I drove north for a camping trip and listened to an episode of Brene Brown’s podcast, Unlocking Us, on apologies.
In the episode, Brown and her guest Dr Harriet Lerner discussed why people dislike apologising, what a good one involves, and, most intriguingly, how to properly accept them. Unfortunately for me, the duo explained this doesn’t look like a dismissive ’no worries’ but instead, a sincere ‘thank you’.
Always open to new relationship tactics and tweaks, we casually agreed to try it in the future. How hard could it be?
Very, if you were curious. Because, as it turns out, a lot can hide behind a throwaway apology or ‘oh-so-laidback’ reply.
Saying thank you feels uncomfortable because you’re fully accepting their acknowledgement of offence, which means admitting there was hurt or irritation.
We long to brush it off, to throw out an ‘it’s cool’ and pretend we aren’t bothered by the lost jersey/forgotten birthday/20-minute wait/cutting joke because what sort of chill and cruisy person would be upset by that?!
But if we are, pretending otherwise only sets both people up for failure. You either wrongly imply you aren’t bothered by a certain behaviour and don’t give the person a chance to change, or unfairly expect them (especially close friends) to correctly guess that ‘no worries’, actually means, ‘all of the worries’.
Let’s take an absolutely hypothetical example of someone consistently running 15 minutes late. If every breathless apology is met with a waved hand and a ‘oh you’re SO FINE’, you could understand why they may think you aren’t bothered by lateness. Which isn’t an issue if you aren’t but becomes problematic if you’re actually hiding a paper-cut hurt that can, given enough repetitions, harden into resentment.
A thank you isn’t just challenging for the recipient, who must own their hurt, but the apologiser too, who will have to own their apology.
See, it’s easy to apologise when the recipient waves it off because this implies they aren’t hurt/offended/upset and therefore, you didn’t do anything wrong. In other words, we can toss out a ‘sorry’ knowing we won’t be confronted with the emotional or literal consequences of an action.
As it turns out, gratitude is an awfully effective litmus test for checking just how authentic your apology is. If it’s humble and sincere, having it acknowledged and appreciated feels pretty rewarding.
But if it was half-assed or pacifying, not only does their ‘thankyou’ sound awfully smug but ignites an immediate and childish urge to revoke the apology because they’ve broken an unspoken agreement to ignore small hurts. The emotional equivalent of giving your mate’s average project an A, only to trade papers and realise they have you a B-.
Although, sometimes it’s better to endure the discomfort en route to something a little more honest and a lot more meaningful; a truth our brutal best mate probably knew all along.
So, that’s a small thought I’ve been thinking (and practising). Happy long weekend to all my friends in Aotearoa.
S