I grew up in a family that didn’t apologize. Ever.
If someone hurt your feelings, you were expected to get over it. No conversation. No acknowledgment. Just move on.
This upbringing wired my brain in a few key ways. First, being confronted caused a full mental short circuit. My immediate thought was, If I hurt someone so much that they brought it up, I must be a terrible person. The shame was overwhelming, which made owning up to my actions feel impossible.
Second, it planted a deep belief that I didn’t deserve apologies. If something isn’t freely given to you, you can create a narrative that you don’t need it. Apologies are for sensitive people, I told myself. I’m strong enough to deal with my emotions on my own.
But here’s the thing about believing you don’t deserve something: it makes you blind to the fact that other people do deserve it. If apologies aren’t part of your world, they’re not on your radar. This meant that when I owed someone an apology, I wouldn’t even realize it—“I’m Sorry,” just wasn’t part of my vocabulary.
Enter my husband.
Unlike me, he embraced the importance of apologies to repair damage in relationships and make them stronger. My inability to do the same caused tension in our relationship. If I hurt his feelings, he tells me. But instead of responding with grace or accountability, I’ve too often shut down like a deer caught in headlights. My apology blinders were causing damage to the person I care about most.
That’s not ok.
So, I’ve made it a priority to learn how to apologize. And let me tell you, it feels awkward at first. Like using a muscle I’ve never exercised before. But, like any skill, apologizing gets easier with practice. And with every step, I’m learning that owning my mistakes doesn’t actually kill me (shocking, I know).
Here’s how I’m building my apology muscle:
1️⃣ Proactive Reflection. I actively reflect on my interactions. If something feels off—if I didn’t show up the way I’d like—I don’t wait for the other person to bring it up. I reach out first. I say, “I’ve been thinking about our conversation, and I realize I could’ve handled that better. I’m sorry.”
Practicing accountability without being called out is deeply freeing. It shifts the narrative from shame to growth. This reflection allows me to think about things from a place of intention, instead of reacting defensively when I’m caught off guard—which is an easier place to start practicing my apology muscle.
2️⃣ Acknowledging My Own Hurt. To fully embrace the value of apologies, I had to face the apologies I never received. I made a list of moments in my life when I deserved an apology but didn’t get one. Writing them down allowed me to acknowledge the hurt I’d buried for so long. Giving those feelings space reminded me that my feelings do deserve acknowledgment—and so do everyone else’s.
3️⃣ Dismantling Old Beliefs. I’m challenging the belief that apologizing makes me weak or wrong. The truth is, it’s an act of strength and connection. An apology doesn’t make you less—it makes you more. It shows you’re capable of growth. It shows you value the relationship enough to repair it. And guess what? It’s often met with gratitude, not resentment.
The truth is, until I fully believe that I deserve apologies, it’ll be impossible to completely remove my blinders when it comes to apologizing to others. But each time I practice, I chip away at the old wiring in my brain and replace it with something more intentional. Something healthier.
I’m still a work in progress. But every time I circle back to say, “I’m Sorry,” I remind myself—and those around me—that accountability is a gift, not a punishment.
It’s a way of saying, “I see you. You matter. And I want to do better.”
And isn’t that something you can feel good about?
