How Sorry Are You?

Let me start with an unadulterated fact: an apology contains power.

A sincere apology can stop us in our tracks. It can open the door to forgiveness . . . and sometimes that’s the beginning of healing in a relationship.

But . . . and this is a big but . . . the wind leaves its sail when we keep using the same apology for the same transgression.

Some people are too proud to apologize. Maybe they think it diminishes them. Maybe they're afraid that admitting what they’ve done will expose a part of themselves they’d rather keep hidden.

But somehow, people usually sense when something is out of kilter.

Gerry Spence, the famous defense attorney, says we all have a BS detector. I suspect he’s right. We may not know exactly what’s going on, but we can often sense when something doesn't quite add up.

And then there are the people who understand the power of an apology . . . but use it as a strategy.

It's a little like a boxing match.

One fighter lands a solid punch and staggers the other. The fighter who's been hit grabs hold of his opponent—not because he's giving up, but because he needs a moment to clear his head and stay in the fight.

Some apologies work the same way.

"I'm sorry, but . . ." comes to mind.

That type of apology becomes a way to hang on long enough to keep doing what you were doing.

And then there’s the repeat apology.

"It worked before, let me see if it'll fly now."

Well . . . if nothing has changed, the apology probably hasn't changed much either.

I hope we can all make the same mistake twice. Otherwise, we're all in a heap of horse manure.

The question isn't whether we’ll ever repeat a mistake. The question is whether the second mistake becomes a springboard to action.

Because an apology without action eventually loses its power.

If you're apologizing for the second, third, or twenty-seventh time for the same thing, maybe the apology isn't what's needed anymore.

Maybe something needs to change.

And if you're not sorry, don't apologize.

An empty apology doesn't help the person you've hurt, and it doesn't do much for you either.

Sometimes the most honest thing you can say is:

"I know what I've done has hurt you. I can't expect you to forgive me until I find a way to get myself back on track. I don't want to insult you with an empty apology."

Then . . . take some action.

I think you and they will know when you're truly sorry.

Your apology won't just be something you say. It'll be something the other person can really see, hear, and, most importantly, feel.

You'll be able to pick the flowers of your actions and hand-deliver them in a bouquet.

All the best,

John