I used to say sorry a lot.
And still lose people.
If you’ve ever apologised and felt the distance grow instead of shrink…
this is for you.
Saying sorry is not the same as taking responsibility
I used to apologise to end discomfort.
To calm the room.
To move on quickly.
To feel normal again.
But deep down, I was still defending myself.
“I’m sorry, but you misunderstood.”
“I’m sorry if that hurt you.”
“I didn’t intend it that way.”
Those words sound polite.
But they quietly shift blame.
I wasn’t owning the impact.
I was protecting my image.
Punchy takeaway: An apology that defends you doesn’t heal them.
I learned to separate intent from impact
This one hurt my ego.
My intentions were often good.
But the impact wasn’t.
I kept using intention as a shield.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
But intention doesn’t erase impact.
Someone can still be hurt
even if you meant well.
So I learned to say,
“I see how this affected you.”
Punchy takeaway: Impact matters more than intention in an apology.
I stopped explaining too much
Earlier, my apologies came with long explanations.
Context.
Reasons.
Background stories.
I thought clarity would help.
But when someone is already hurt,
explanations feel like excuses.
Now I keep it simple.
“I was wrong.”
“I see what I did.”
“I understand why it hurt.”
Punchy takeaway: Short apologies feel sincere when they’re fully owned.
I learned to listen without interrupting
This was uncomfortable.
When someone explained how I hurt them,
my instinct was to jump in.
To correct.
To clarify.
To balance the story.
But interruption breaks safety.
So I learned to stay quiet.
To let them finish.
To sit with discomfort.
Punchy takeaway: Listening is part of the apology, not a pause before it.
I stopped apologising for emotions and started apologising for actions
I used to say,
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
It sounded gentle.
But it was empty.
It apologised for their feelings,
not my behaviour.
Now I focus on actions.
“I raised my voice.”
“I ignored your boundary.”
“I dismissed your concern.”
Punchy takeaway: Apologise for what you did, not how they felt.
I learned that timing matters
I wanted quick forgiveness.
Say sorry.
Fix it fast.
Move on.
But some apologies need space.
When emotions are raw,
words don’t land.
I learned to ask,
“Is this a good time to talk?”
Punchy takeaway: A rushed apology serves you more than them.
I learned to change behaviour, not just words
This is where real apologies live.
An apology without change
is just a pause.
I had to look at patterns.
Why did this happen again?
What am I avoiding fixing?
Real apologies continue after the conversation.
In actions.
In consistency.
In effort.
Punchy takeaway: Changed behaviour is the loudest apology.
I learned to forgive myself after apologising
This surprised me.
Sometimes I apologised sincerely
and still felt heavy.
Guilt lingered.
Shame stayed.
I realised apologising doesn’t mean self-punishment.
Once responsibility is taken,
self-forgiveness is necessary.
Punchy takeaway: Owning a mistake doesn’t require living inside it.
A quiet pause
Think about the last apology you gave.
Did you try to be understood?
Or did you try to understand?
Learning to apologise properly changed my relationships
Not because I became perfect.
But because I became accountable.
Mistakes still happen.
Repair happens too.
If this felt familiar,
there’s more like this waiting for you here.
Real conversations.
Quiet growth.
Lessons that stay.
That’s the Prosnic way.
