couple having problems“David, tell Randy you’re sorry.”

“Sorry.”

The mother takes 7-year-old David to another part of the playground. By the sound of the “saaaaawry,” I’m guessing that David was being obedient, but he didn’t really know what he did, didn’t feel like it was his fault, and wasn’t sorry at all.

As adults, we hear (or even give) apologies such as, “I’m sorry you felt hurt.” “If I did something that hurt you, I’m sorry.” “I apologize, but I was really distracted by something else.” “I’m sorry, but you should know that I really love you and you shouldn’t take it so personally. It’s just the way I am.” “I’m sorry, but you are really making too big a deal of this. It is just a little thing.” “I apologize, but give me a break.” “I’m sorry for the problem you had. My assistant is normally on top of things.” When we give such apologies, we can say, as 7-year-old David did, “But I apologized!” However, when the apology (as in the examples above) is an inauthentic or inadequate apology, it doesn’t heal, doesn’t resolve, doesn’t soothe, and the hurt remains unmoved.

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Authentic and effective apology is the very core of healing, clarifying, and restoring relationships, from interpersonal to organizational to cross-cultural ones. A real and well-thought-out apology can, like forgiveness, cut the cycle of anger, revenge, and hatred. However, making a genuine apology causes the giver to be extremely vulnerable. You are admitting directly to another that you did something that caused harm. This is very humbling! Doing so is also challenging because it’s like leaping off a cliff into the unknown. You are not in charge of how your apology will be received. Your efforts could be harshly rejected, your hopes for healing thrown back in your face.

A client spent some months working with his shame about having abused his younger sister. From a most humble place, he wrote her an apology in the hope that this could be a first step in restoring their relationship. Several weeks later, the letter was returned to him, with “Rejected. You will not be forgiven.” written across his words. He was devastated. Over time he began to look at what he could do rather than grieving for the loss of his relationship with his sister.

His sister couldn’t accept his apology, but he could demonstrate that he had learned and changed by volunteering at a women’s crisis center. He also could be proud that he had broken many generations of family history by not abusing his own daughters. These actions, which he was proud of, had shifted his inner wound from the shame of feeling unforgivable to the fact of being unforgiven. He could now move on.

I asked a few of my friends to remember a time when they needed to and did offer someone an apology. Usually, we rightly focus on the feelings and needs of the hurt person, but I wondered what the apologizer got from the process. This is what I heard: “I got to let go of at least some of my guilt.” “The apology was accepted. It repaired the relationship, and the friendship actually got better.” “In the process of getting to being able to apologize, I went through all my defenses and finally got to see something about myself that I didn’t like and face the truth about a familiar and hurtful pattern I had been denying or at least had been unaware of. This was hard work. Once I got it, the apology was easy.” “Honestly, I don’t know if I got anything at all. It was really like just getting it out of the way.” “It was unbelievably relieving for me.” “It took such courage. I try so hard to be ‘good,’ and it was painful but freeing to be able not only to see but to take responsibility for doing a bad thing.” “I learned that it’s really OK to make mistakes. What isn’t OK is not to apologize for them and learn from them.”

Apologies open big doors. As John Kador puts it, “Apology is the bravest gesture we can make to the unknown. … Apologies unmask all the hopes, desires, and uncertainties that make us human because, at the moment of genuine apology, we confront our humanity most fully. At the point of apology we strip off a mask and face our limitations. No wonder we hesitate” (Kador, pp. 43-44).

What is the value of apology to the one who has been wounded? Opportunity for restoring relationship, deescalating conflict, rebalancing power, recovering dignity, letting go and moving on, stopping a cycle of resentment and revenge, and increasing trust in the human capacity for goodness and truth. This is a strong litany. From the biggest perspective, “quarrels often escalate into serious conflicts on the fulcrum of apology. … Throughout human history, endless cycles of revenge and untold suffering have resulted from the denial of effective apology. It’s a tragedy because apology has the power to defuse almost all human conflicts” (Kador, p. 45).

In my book Right Use of Power: The Heart of Ethics and in my ethics programs, I talk about resolving difficulties as one of the most important and challenging skills to learn as leaders and human beings. I describe five things that most people need to hear in order to for an injured relationship to be restored. Not all of these things will be essential in all situations, but at least one—and probably more—will be needed. Here they are (Barstow, p. 160):

  1. Acknowledgement
  2. Understanding
  3. Regret
  4. Learning
  5. Repair

Making “a genuine apology or/and authentic expression of … regret” is the complete description of No. 3.

Effective Apologies

With a deep bow to Kador for his excellent book Effective Apology: Mending Fences, Building Bridges, and Restoring Trust, I want now to suggest how one can make an apology with greater wisdom and skill.

Kador also names five dimensions in making an effective apology (Kador, p. 124): recognition, responsibility, remorse, restitution, and repetition. Here’s more about each of these.

General Considerations

Accepting Apologies

The other side of offering an apology is accepting one. On the receiving side, you must discern whether the apology is genuine and whether it feels satisfactory. Accepting is just accepting. It doesn’t automatically include trusting or forgiving. Rebuilding trust happens over time. Forgiveness is a separate process.

When you do accept an apology, it is important to make an acknowledgment. Responses such as, “It was nothing,” or, “Don’t worry about it,” or, “You don’t need to apologize,” or, “It’s too late” have the effect of dismissing the intended communication. They trivialize a vulnerable moment. Before learning about the apology process, I had thought that when I said, “It was nothing,” I was being kind, generous, and forgiving. I now understand it to be disrespectful. When the apology is genuine, it is best to say, “I accept your apology.” The interaction needs to be complete and acknowledged. A friend’s “I’m sorry I’m late; I know that caused you some extra work” deserves my recognition of her humility and awareness of her negative impact. “Thank you, I accept your apology” as a response in this case works well.

Apology can move mountains. A half-hearted one can make things worse. A sincere and well-crafted apology can restore relationships.

GoodTherapy | Selfishness, Guilt, and Separation: When Parents Take Precedence“You’re so selfish!” I hear this phrase too frequently when working with people who have trouble with separation and individuation. When children hear from their parents that they are selfish, it is typically understood as, “You are thinking about yourself when you should be thinking about me.”

In my psychotherapy practice, I meet many adults who grew up having internalized the experience that they are selfish if they choose their own needs and desires over those of their loved ones. Many continue to deny their own wants in favor of what they believe is best for their parents. Some have transferred their worries to include other relationships and, in the extreme, may avoid feelings of selfishness by providing for everyone else’s needs rather than their own. In most cases, people who believe they are selfish believe they are bad people. This guilt interferes with the ability to develop into separate individuals who know what they want and are comfortable getting it.

The power of guilty feelings about selfishness makes it very difficult to consider that selfishness is not by definition a bad thing. Selfish implies exclusive or excessive interest in oneself. It is unfortunate that parents who use “selfish” in an accusing way tend to use the term if the child’s focus on self in any way (not exclusively or excessively) conflicts with the parent’s needs.

I am going to briefly describe two people with whom I have worked who were severely limited by their inability to individuate because of their guilt over perceived selfishness. In our work, an important goal has been to understand selfishness as exclusive or excessive and to feel emotionally entitled to prioritize one’s own needs some of the time.

“Kate” felt trapped. She came into our session looking very agitated. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said. “I told Alan and the kids I had to visit my dad on Thursday night to help him make decisions about selling his apartment. I promised I’d come for dinner. My daughter Kim has a soccer game, and Alan is mad that I’m choosing my dad. He says I neglect our family. No matter what I do, I feel so selfish. They don’t get how painful it is for me to choose my dad over them. But when my dad needs me, if I say no, I feel the most selfish. He’s so helpless and upset when I’m not there for him. I know my mom will have some ideas, but he really relies on what I think. He’ll get anxious if I don’t come and advise him about this. I tried to tell him that I needed to come on another night, but he said, ‘It has to be Thursday. I’m your father, Kate, how can you be so selfish?’ ”

I reminded Kate that she was responding to that word again: “selfish.” I asked Kate what happens to her when she thinks she is being selfish with her father. I asked, “What buttons get pushed? What is the experience of thinking that you are selfish that makes you feel so trapped and unable to say no?”

Kate responded: “I feel like such a bad person. There is so much guilt. How could I upset my father? He gets so disappointed in me. I can’t stand that I could be such a bad person. You know, when I was a kid and this kind of thing happened, he would get a little teary and walk away from me and leave the room.  I felt like I hurt him so much. In those moments I thought he would never come back. It felt like a punishment. I guess I still become that scared little kid every time he asks me for something. I have no choice but to give in to his wishes. I’m not sure I even know what my own wishes are.”

Kate had come to therapy because she was having problems in her marriage. She frequently got caught up in trying so hard to please everybody that she never seemed to express or know herself. Her husband complained that he felt like there was no one there. In our work, Kate came to realize that in early relationships with her parents, she had been so attuned to their needs and wishes that she had not developed her sense of an individual self. She was beginning to recognize that in order to protect herself from feeling like a bad person, she had unconsciously neglected the development of her own desires and feelings. This was now creating a problem in her relationship with her husband.

When childhood years do not provide the conditions for separation and individuation, the repercussions for adult relationships can be serious. In particular, anxieties about selfishness toward parents can generate intolerable feelings of shame and badness that can exert a powerful influence in adult life.

“Tess” came to therapy feeling depressed and anxious. She was 25 years old, working as a clerk in a bookstore. She felt isolated and lonely. Her main social contact was her parents. Tess looks back on her childhood with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she has fond memories of enjoying school, being close to and having fun with her friend Isabel, loving her piano lessons and practicing. At the same time, she said, “Maybe I didn’t have enough friends or should have gone to extracurricular activities in school. But I didn’t really mind. I liked being by myself, and kids were nice to me. I just didn’t talk a lot or do a lot of stuff with them.”

I asked Tess, “So what makes you seem so uncertain about whether you had a positive experience growing up?”

Tess was silent and thoughtful and then said, “I guess I thought things were pretty much OK, but my parents, especially my mom, always seemed to think I should be doing different things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she was always telling me I should call other kids or join a club or invite kids over. She compared me to herself and how many friends she had. She said she was worried about me since I seemed so socially awkward. Actually, I felt OK, but I had the feeling she thought there was something wrong with me. I was right. When I was about 12, I overheard her talking to my dad. Really, she was crying, not talking. She was very worried. She called me antisocial and said I was going to have real problems. The worst part of that memory is her crying something like, ‘I feel so hurt, she’s so different from me. She doesn’t seem to care about how this makes me feel.’ I was shocked! I ran up to my room and started to cry. I felt really scared. I didn’t know I could make my mom feel so terrible. I think that was the beginning of feeling it’s not OK to be me and that I was selfish not to be the daughter she wanted. But I also felt like if I was me, they would think these terrible things about me. After that, I just tried to please them, especially my mom. But I spent so much time trying to please them, I never thought about what I wanted.”

As Tess and I continued to talk, we became aware of how she was extremely reliant on her parents for feeling good about herself and for guidance. Tess was struggling with what to do with her future. She was considering graduate school in speech therapy or education. She also talked to me about her love for poetry and how maybe she would like go back to school for writing. “My parents think I’m better off with something more practical, so they suggested speech therapy or education,” she said. “I got some information about programs, but I can’t seem to get myself organized to apply. Speech therapy is my mom’s field, and it makes her so happy to think that I would be a speech therapist. I feel so good when she is happy because she approves of what I’m doing. When I think of pursuing poetry, I feel so selfish and so guilty. I know it brings up feelings in my mother of me being so introverted and awkward and makes her so miserable. I know I rely on her too much, but I hate to give up how good it makes me feel when I make her happy. It feels less scary when I go to them, maybe because then I don’t have to feel so bad and selfish if I consider what I want. … Maybe I don’t even want to be a poet.”

Both Kate and Tess were stuck in the dynamics of their early relationships with their parents. For both, the impact of their parents’ anxieties, aggression, and judgments had made it emotionally necessary to comply with demands regarding who and how they should be. Both had parents who were narcissistic and needed their child to be attuned to and accede to their wishes and desires. Not to do so was experienced as the child’s selfishness and wounding to the parents.

Hurting a parent can feel like inflicting a wound. This can make a child feel that the parent is impaired and unable to take care of the child and/or that there will be some retaliation. Terrible shame for being so “bad” and “selfish” is experienced. Kate and Tess, in order to protect themselves from these intolerable feelings and sustain a relationship of positive regard from parents, gave up knowing what they wanted and needed. In the safety of not knowing, they never fully developed their sense of self. They are unable to be clear about what they want for themselves, and rely heavily on parents for recognition and self-esteem.

But change is possible. Through their struggles, they can succeed in letting go of seeing themselves as selfish when they have a need or desire which differs from someone they love. This will allow for the emotional freedom to know what they want, think, and need. They can become their own, unique, individual selves.

Thank you for writing. Divorce can be such a difficult subject for families, and many parents struggle with how to talk with their kids about their thoughts and feelings about it. The reasons parents stay together or decide to separate are many-fold, and rarely come down to one single factor. The one thing I can say with certainty is that their decision to separate or stay together IS NOT YOUR FAULT.

Your parents are adults who have made many choices in their lives, choices they must own. Being parents means that making major decisions that impact you and your family can be complicated. Parents might choose a particular type of car because they want it to be safe for their children, even though they’d have preferred a sportier model. They may quit certain habits because they want to be good role models for their kids. They may take part in activities they don’t enjoy (roller coasters come to mind) because their kids love them. These are all daily decisions parents make for the sake of their children. The underlying reason, however, that most parents make these choices is because they fit with their own belief system about the kind of parents they want to be. It feels good to make those choices. It would feel bad to make different ones. Your parents are no different.

Your parents clearly subscribe to the belief that children benefit from parents staying together. To those who share this belief, the benefits of staying together significantly outweigh the challenges and even unhappiness of staying in a relationship that is not working. Your parents decided to commit to a path that involved them staying together. This was their decision, not yours. They did not consult you about it when you were younger—nor should they have. It was a decision that was made because they care deeply about you and wanted to provide you with the best environment they felt they could, but that is part of the job of being parents.

It seems, though, that there is a great opportunity now to talk with them about this. They’ve opened the door to the conversation, and it’s up to you as to how you want to follow up. I don’t think this about giving your blessing or asking them to work it out. Honestly, you don’t (and shouldn’t) have that kind of power. They may be asking for your input, however, so that they can make a better-informed decision—a decision that will impact you, but that ultimately will be theirs and theirs alone.

If you continue to feel guilty and depressed, it might be a good idea to talk to a counselor about how to work through what you are feeling. Your family also might benefit from family therapy to talk about what your parents separating or staying together now means for you all as a family. Best of luck!

Sincerely,
Erika

Nonsuicidal self-injuries (NSSI) are believed to be inflicted as a method of coping with distressing emotions. People who cut, burn, or otherwise harm themselves may do so in an attempt to escape overwhelming feelings of sadness, pain, guilt, depression, or shame. Although the research on NSSI is growing, little attention has been focused on the relationship between guilt and NSSI. Yoel Inbar of the Department of Social Psychology at Tilburg University in the Netherlands recently conducted an experiment to determine if people were more motivated to hurt themselves by feelings of guilt versus feeling of sadness or ambiguity.

For the study, Inbar recruited 46 college students and assigned them to either a neutral, sad, or guilty condition. The participants were instructed to recall an event that elicited the assigned emotion and write about the severity of their emotion at the time of the event and presently. They were then given one set of electric shocks, after which they were allowed to either increase or decrease the intensity of the remaining five sets of shocks. After the shock treatment, the participants were assessed for levels of sadness and guilt. Inbar found that the participants who recalled guilt-inspiring events chose to increase the shock severity, while those who remembered sad or neutral events did not. Additionally, the guilty participants reported feeling less guilt after they received the shocks than they had before.

The evidence presented in this study suggests that guilt acts as a motivator for self-injurious behavior. The participants in this experiment did not acknowledge being consciously aware of this relationship, but may have been prompted intuitively. “Such intuitively driven moral judgments are quite common,” Inbar said. Although some people who feel guilty may choose to diminish their guilt in other ways, such as doing a good deed to make up for their bad one, others may feel as if the level of their atonement must match the level of their transgression. Existing research has shown that certain emotions, such as self-anger and shame, often precede a self-injurious event. Inbar believes that future research should look at how these states influence the decision to self-injure compared to feelings of guilt. It would also be prudent to examine if people who have a history of self-injury to assuage guilt would choose a good deed if that option was available to them.

Reference:
Inbar, Y., Pizarro, D. A., Gilovich, T., Ariely, D. (2012). Moral masochism: On the connection between guilt and self-punishment. Emotion. Advance online publication. doi: 10.1037/a0029749

Young woman in white tee shirt leaning against phone booth, holding payphone in left hand. She has her hand on her forehead and looks upset and stressed.What do you do out of guilt?

I recently realized that I was doing a lot of things out of obligation, feelings of guilt, or just a general feeling that if I didn’t do something, I would have bad karma—or worse yet, that people would stop liking me and inviting me to things. I live in Los Angeles, a sunny, warm place with lots of people and a ton of things to do all the time. With the invitations always forthcoming, it is sometimes difficult but necessary to say no. In order to maintain a semblance of sanity and self, one must pick and choose when to say “yes” and when to say “no.” Ideally, when saying “no,” we won’t have to worry about being rejected or left out, missing out, or losing friendships.

This problem also happens in the context of intimate relationships and is very real. Within relationships, there is an intrinsic fear of losing our partner. “If I don’t go along with what my partner wants, they may find someone better.” There is fear of being seen in a bad light, of not compromising, not letting our partner live their life, judgment by our in-laws, and more. And sometimes these fears are so deeply ingrained in our being that it’s hard to even recognize when it’s happening.

The negative side effects of doing something out of guilt, duty, or obligation are the feelings that we are left with: the after-effects that jeopardize our relationship because they build on anger, resentment, and frustration. The things we do out of guilt don’t pay a lot of dividends. Instead, they leave us feeling bereft and unheard and can lead to martyrdom: the “I do so much for you, but what have you done for me lately?” phenomenon—also known as playing the victim. In the recovery world of sobriety and Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s known as enabling or codependence. Doing things that you really don’t want to do because you feel as though you are supposed to is a ticket to disaster.

So how do you break this cycle?

Well, first you have to get to know yourself. Sometimes in the midst of all these desires and fears it is hard to get to the core of who we are, what we need, and what will be best for us right now. I’ve devised a quick list for you to get on your way to knowing yourself, knowing your needs, and then standing up for them—in a nice way that doesn’t offend, hurt, or piss people off.

Repeat the steps above. If you find yourself saying “yes” to things you don’t really want to do, ask yourself what you are getting out of it and why you keep repeating this pattern. Things like fear of losing the relationship or guilt are often ideas we perpetuate for ourselves that don’t have a lot of basis in reality. Knowing yourself and learning to avoid sticky situations that lead to anger, frustration, and resentment are the keys to healthy, happy, and functional relationships.

Guilt is a powerful emotion that does not like to be disobeyed. It is often quite loud, slippery, insidious, and overwhelming—yet it is not always right. Emotion experts believe that guilt is a social emotion, which arises when we behave in a way that goes against social rules, morals, or expectations. Since we are a highly social species that depends upon the social pack for survival, it makes sense that an intensely undesirable emotion arises when we break from the guidelines of the pack; in fact, the intensity and undesirableness of guilt is designed to get us to make a U-turn, align our behaviors with the guidelines of the social group, and resume our membership within it.

Understanding this gives you an avenue by which to determine whether listening to your guilt is wise. Rather than using the intensity of your guilt to determine whether to listen to it, you can look at the societal guidelines the guilt is in reaction to and determine whether abiding by these guidelines is wise.

Identify what societal guidelines your guilt is rooted in and spend some time deciphering what exactly you feel guilty about. Once you have a sense of the guidelines your guilt is in reaction to, weigh these against the guidelines you are basing your decision to separate on. From my perspective, your decision to separate from your spouse is rooted in a belief that you have a right to safety and to live free from abuse. The right to live a life without abuse is a human right, a constitutional right. Do the guidelines that are fueling your guilt outweigh your moral and legal rights to an abuse-free life?

I hope that engaging in this exercise can help you understand that your guilt, although strong, is not based on guidelines that are safe for you to abide by. While understanding this will most likely not make your guilt go away, it can provide you with a perspective that can help you tolerate the guilt, allowing you to ride it out.

Keep in mind that you do not need to get rid of the guilt, even though it would be lovely if it did go away; it is possible to have the guilt and not do what it says. Imagine your guilt to be a toddler who is having a massive temper tantrum in the grocery store—you need to be like the savvy parent who holds the child’s hand and proceeds to continue with the shopping trip, wailing child in tow. Your guilt can act up, be strong, powerful, and horrible, but you do not need to do what it says, nor do you need to focus on it.

One last tip is that all emotions pass. Hang on to this fact when your guilt is really powerful, and feel free to engage in activities that produce other emotions, such as peace, calm, and empowerment.

Finally, due to the violence that has been in your relationship, I recommend that you discuss the details of your separation with a therapist—be it your individual therapist or your spouse’s therapist—and that your spouse’s therapist is kept informed. A trained therapist who knows the details of the situation and is actively working with your spouse can help him through the transition. While it is your responsibility is to treat your spouse with kindness, respect, and genuineness, it is not appropriate for you to sacrifice your safety or well-being in order to make the transition easy. All the best to you, and keep in mind that standing up against abuse is vital in order for healing to begin.

Kind regards,
Susanne

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