For a long time, the word apology sat heavy in my body. It carried echoes of childhood lessons, cultural scripts, and inherited expectations that didn’t feel right. I grew up believing that to apologize was somehow weak, especially as a woman.

In my feminist studies background, I often saw apologies framed as part of the feminine role in a dominant culture: cleaning up messes, smoothing things over, being the “appeaser” while others moved boldly forward without regret. So for years, I resented apologizing. I thought it diminished me.

But life has a way of placing us in situations where our theories are tested. And for me, apologies turned out to be one of the most powerful practices I’ve ever learned.

Empty Apologies

When my daughter was young, I had a habit of telling her I would be home at a certain hour—and then not showing up on time. Each night, I would say, “I’m sorry.” And I meant it. My words were sincere.

But from her perspective, my word meant nothing. I kept repeating the same behavior. What I was offering her wasn’t really an apology—it was an attempt to smooth things over so I could feel better about myself.

That was my first wake-up call: an apology without change is not an apology. It’s a dismissal.

Waiting for the Apology That Never Came

At the same time, I was on the other side of the equation with my mother. There were parts of my childhood where I felt harmed by her choices, and I wanted her to acknowledge it. I wanted her to apologize.

But she didn’t believe she’d done anything wrong. And so I sat in resentment, telling myself I couldn’t forgive her until I got the words I wanted.

Being both the one offering empty apologies to my daughter and the one waiting endlessly for an apology from my mom made me stop and look hard at what this word really means.

What I Learned

Here is the truth I’ve come to hold:

A real apology is shown through behavior change.

Words can matter. But they only carry weight if they’re backed up by action. If someone we love says, “This isn’t working for me,” and we want to remain in relationship, then the apology comes in how we show up differently.

For me, that meant facing my workaholism and choosing to prioritize my daughter over the accolades I got from my job. It meant learning to say “no” more often, changing my boundaries, and redefining where I found my sense of worth. None of that was easy—but it was real.

When We Need Help

Sometimes the apology we need to make—or the one we’re waiting for—is bigger than what two people can carry alone. That’s when bringing in a third party can help: a mediator, a peacemaker, a trusted guide. Many cultures have deep traditions of restorative practices, and I’ve learned from  Peacemaking models that these spaces can hold profound healing when words alone cannot.

An Invitation

If you are sitting with the idea of apology right now, I invite you to reflect on two questions:

1. Who in your life matters enough that you’re willing to change your behavior for them?

2. What patterns or priorities might need to shift for your apology to be real?

Apologies are not quick fixes. They are steady acts of care. They remind us that repair is possible, even when it feels uncomfortable. And in choosing to show up differently, we honor both the other person and ourselves.

I hold deep gratitude to my mother, my daughter, and the teachers in peacemaking traditions who have shaped my understanding. They remind me that apology, at its heart, is not about weakness. It is about courage, responsibility, and love.

Closing Thought

If this reflection speaks to you, I invite you to go deeper in your own journey of repair, healing, and self-trust through my book, Matriarch Makeover: A 30-Day Invitation. It’s available on Blurb, Amazon, and through independent booksellers.

And if you’d like to continue the conversation, you can always connect with me through my offerings or in the Matriarch Makeover member circle. Together, we can practice apologies that aren’t just words, but living commitments to love and repair.