Why I Find It Harder to Apologize to People I Love
I made a stupid mistake today.
My best friend and I went out to the cinema. We were super close to being late for the movie. As soon as we arrived, my friend asked me to look after her belongings while she used the toilet. I told her to go ahead and we would take turns once she was back.
However, when she left, I thought we might be late and asked the theatre staff to look after our belongings while I went to the toilet.
I left all our belongings with a stranger.
It didn't hit me until my friend asked to confirm what she heard I had done. I felt extremely guilty. Not only did I do something I shouldn't have, but I also saw my friend anxiously going through her belongings.
It took me about ten minutes to open my mouth and apologize to her. Ten minutes sounds short, but inside my mind, it was almost an eternity. There were so many thoughts swirling in my mind:
I was so careless and inconsiderate. She must be so angry at me. Our friendship is over.
Finally, I said to her, "I'm sorry about earlier." "It's ok," she replied.
Then we enjoyed the movie. Well, she did. I didn't enjoy the first quarter of it because I was still thinking about those thoughts. Fortunately, I was able to calm myself and enjoy it.
I'm reflecting on what happened and realizing that I find it harder to apologize to my friends and family. A LOT HARDER.
Why is it so hard to apologize to your loved ones?
To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure if this is a universal truth, but I think it's because many of us (me included) still believe that we have to be perfect to be loved and accepted.
Once we say "sorry," we accept that we made a mistake and therefore aren't perfect—which means we don't deserve love and acceptance. So if we say that to our friends and family, in our minds we give them permission to not love us anymore.
That's scary, isn't it?
We associate apology with letting go of our meaningful relationships.
Of course, we love them. We don't want to lose them. But somehow, our fear of imperfection makes us believe that showing our flaws will push them away.
It wasn't clear until I typed this down, and I hope it becomes clearer to you as well.
So what should we do with this insight?
For me, I think it's important to distinguish between being truly accepted and lying to be accepted.
If you scroll back and read my story, you'll see that I did apologize to my friend. I chose to own my mistakes. I chose to own my imperfections. And I did it because she deserved to know the truth.
I've learned through my journey that I'll always be imperfect and that I'll continue making mistakes. I could have chosen to lie to her and keep everything secret. But what if the staff had stolen something from us? I would have robbed her of the chance to get her things back. Eventually, the truth would be revealed, and then the most important thing would be broken…
Her trust. Broken. Forever.
This is actually a common problem for many people. They choose temporary comfort (lying to get away from an uncomfortable situation) over owning their mistakes (telling what happened).
The truth is: people will accept our flaws as long as we're trustworthy.
Because trust is the main factor of acceptance. Without trust, you'll have no chance of creating any kind of connection.
So next time you make a mistake, please know that it's ok to make mistakes. And you can still do the right thing and embrace that imperfect part of you.
Because you deserve to be loved. And people love you even more when you show your true, imperfect version to them.
No one is perfect, and it feels good to know that you're not the only one who is imperfect.
This is the kind of insight we explore together in my coaching practice—how our fears of imperfection keep us from the very connection we crave. Many of my clients are professionals who look successful on the outside but struggle with showing their authentic, imperfect selves to the people who matter most.
If this resonates with you and you'd like to explore what's keeping you from feeling truly connected despite your success, I'd love to have a conversation. Our first call is completely free—no pressure, no judgment, just two people talking about real stuff. Click here to book the call.