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I was just reading your column about what to say when someone thanks you and it made me wonder: what are the most polite/appropriate ways to respond to someone apologizing? When it’s little things, I’ve taken to saying “you’re good” or “you’re fine.” I think I picked that one up from a teacher who told me you never ask a hurt kid if they’re okay–instead you tell them they’re okay and suddenly they are. (This avoids the crying, whining, etc.) When it’s more serious, I always feel weird saying something like “I accept your apology” so I just end up saying “it’s okay” or “it’s fine,” but I feel like that’s not really adequate. What would you say?
I am 100% sure you mean well, but I can’t actually endorse saying, “you’re okay” to a child who bonked his head on the slide. I mean, whatever, if you say it, no big deal, but since you brought it up… Call me crunchy, but I think that response serves to invalidate the feeling of hurt or surprise the little tot is actually experiencing—yes, he will be okay, but in this moment? He is not really okay. Obviously there’s no need to freak the eff out, but helping the tot to identify how they are feeling can be helpful: “Wow! I bet it was surprising to bonk your head there—it must hurt! Why don’t you take some deep breaths”, etc. A great follow up is: “Are you going to be okay?” This is surprisingly effective (I mean, obviously not 100%, but you know, works more often than not.) The kid stops and thinks. Will I be okay again, someday, in a distant future? He realizes that, yes, odds are that that asshole Charlie will eventually get off the coveted swing and, yes, the dew will dry from the sandbox, and yes, I guess sometime between now and when I eat my delicious and congealed leftover mac n cheeze out of my fucking beautiful shark thermos, I will be okay.
But now: moving right along to the question at hand. (And I am actually sorry for the didactic digression. I apologize. Yikes! What will you say in response? I haven’t told you yet!!! What will you do???) The answer is that it really, really depends. Many people (women? Yes, probably) apologize as a kind of tic. I like your coat, sorry. My bus was late, sorry. You want me to pass the ketchup? Sorry. Gently set these people straight. “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault!” or “There’s nothing to apologize for,” are useful. Don’t be a pedantic jerk about it, just be breezy.
But if someone is legit apologizing, say, for a minor offense—i.e. they have bumped your butt on line for burgers—set them at ease! (This is [almost] always a worthwhile goal, though it need not always be one’s primary goal.) “No problem” is permitted here, as long as it is genuinely delivered. “Don’t worry about it!” is a great option. And now I am going to be honest: I don’t like “you’re good” or “you’re fine.” It is too declaration-from-on-high for my tastes—who are you? The Pope? I guess I just fancy myself a little more democratic than all that—even than a pope who rides the bus.
What if the person has somewhat seriously fucked up? When they have canceled longstanding plans to join you in Capri at an extremely pricey holiday rental? What if they have really hurt your feelings by saying something true-ish but completely unnecessary? Like, “you never find lost things when you’re looking for them because you lack conviction.” (True story. I recently said this. It was not nice or necessary! I had to apologize.) “It’s okay” and “that’s okay,” are solid responses. Replacing “okay” with “fine” cannot be endorsed; fine is a word that is often (not always, but often) disingenuous. But the best thing?
“That’s okay. [It hurt my feelings, but I understand.] Thank you for apologizing.”
The text within the brackets should be used to express your genuine sadness/hurt/disappointment, IF IT IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY TO YOU TO EXPRESS SUCH A FEELING. It should not be passive aggressive. It should not start the whole fight over again [So, no: “That’s okay. I was really hurt when you said that, because I feel like you’re always saying things like that without a thought for anyone else, probably because your god-awful mother just didn’t really give you enough love in your sadsack mess of a childhood. But thank you for apologizing.”] Just a simple, “I was upset, but I understand.” Skip that part if you can bear it. If not, keep it short and semi-sweet. But thanking them, if it seems appropriate, is a really good idea. Because, as #1 reminds us, a true and graceful apology is rarer than a wild tiger. (Tigers are seriously endangered, which I did not know until embarrassingly recently.)
And, yeah, I’m with you: “I accept your apology” is vaguely papal, too, and I don’t really like it. Unlike the response to thank you, the classic, in this case, is outmoded and fugly.
What do you say to someone who has miscarried?
Coming full circle, except not, the polite and humane response is, simply: “I’m sorry.” Or, “I’m so sorry.” Say it like you mean it, and you do mean it, because miscarriage really, truly sucks. You can add: “I am here for you in whatever way you need, if you want to talk or if you don’t, or if you’d like to go drink [at specific place/time] or if it would be nice if I brought you dinner [on specific evening].” Concrete suggestions can be helpful when people are mourning or otherwise sad, because it’s hard to be like, “yeah, actually, can you drop off some Lobster Newburg on Tuesday around 8:15pm?”
Communicate that you are available to listen (not necessarily talk) if they want to talk about it (but don’t make them talk about it. You can basically just ask them if they want to talk about it).
Mostly, don’t act like they’ve said something disgusting or shocking, even if you are in fact shocked. There are, naturally, a few other things not to say. Definitely don’t belittle the loss by providing any readily google-able and emotionally useless information. I.e. “you’ll get pregnant again STAT,” “it’s really common,” etc. This person likely needs to wallow and grieve. They don’t necessarily need your permission to do so, but don’t go blocking their way.
I think it can be nice to send a gift of some sort–flowers, food, or a book being the most useful (in my view). [If it’s a late miscarriage or stillbirth, I think it’s more serious and should be treated more as a death, i.e. definitely send food or flowers and perhaps a condolence note, in the case of a good friend.]
If you want to understand better how they might be feeling, read this or this. And if someone you know is coping with stillbirth, or, frankly, if you’re just interested in trying to grapple with the meaning of life/death/love, read this.
One of the most important things in this case is, in the words of a friend of mine: know your place in this person’s grief. So a hug from a friend can be great, but a hug from a colleague you vaguely dislike may be a bit of a bummer. This requires some thinking, sorry. It’s basically a tough and shitty situation.
But, most importantly, express sympathy, and really, definitely don’t try to pretend like it didn’t happen. It can be a relief for the person to be able to talk about it without feeling like they are a science experiment gone awry. To make them feel ill at ease in their sadness–or even more ill at ease in their body–is to lower the tone considerably where it matters most.
Tags: advice, etiquette, ms. proprietypants
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This is a good, right, and just column.
I may be coming a this from a different, Canadianesque, frequently-apologizing perspective, but I cannot stand the response “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault!” when it comes after a “sorry [that’s happening to you!]”
Other Person: “God, my interview got cancelled so they could hire someone else! Ugh!”
Aravis: “I’m sorry! That sucks!”
Other Person: “Don’t be sorry! It’s not your fault!”
Aravis: [quiet seething]
It’s not an apology because I CAUSED the bad thing, per se, it’s that I am genuinely sorry that it is happening to you. But I think in many cases, “sorry” is a general social lubricant and should be divorced from its apology-sense. There are many different uses for “sorry!”
[P.S. always pronounce it “SOH-ree,” Canadian-style, to be cooler.]
100% with you on this one. I think it’s such an awkward response, and it totally misses the point. I’m sorry FOR you, sad person!
I had a coworker who would say that every single time (and yet I still couldn’t learn not to reflexively say “I’m sorry” to him):
Coworker: “Ugh, x happened!”
Me: “Aww man, I hate x, I’m sorry!”
Coworker: “It’s not your fault.”
Me: …….. I KNOW THAT
YES EXACTLY. It’s the difference between “sorry I did that” and “sorry that is happening to you!” which are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. So I hate the response “Nothing to apologize for!” or “not your fault!” because…..okay, I WASN’T apologizing that your interview got canceled or your train was delayed or whatever. I didn’t do it.
My husband does that, and to break him of it I took to saying “I sorrow for you”. He mostly stopped!
Three magic words for you two: “. . . to hear that.”
You could embellish your social-lubricant sorries with any number of variations (I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry you’re feeling bad.) but “I’m sorry to hear that” is all purpose and difficult to miscontrue as an apology.
My other half does this all the effing time and it drives me insane. I always say ‘I’m expressing sympathy, motherfucker, appreciate it!’.
YES. I’m not saying it’s my fault, I’m expressing SYMPATHY. THAT IS A THING PEOPLE DO.
Not helpful, but I always worry that saying, “I’m sorry to hear that” makes it sound like I’m sorry I heard it, not I’m sorry it happened. Definitely over thinking, which is why I often don’t say anything and don’t have any friends. I’m sorry.
I have no idea why and I’m sure it’s unjustified, but I never associate the phrase “I’m sorry to hear that” with sincerity. I associate it with someone wanting to pretend to care but also wanting you to shut up about your problems.
That’s probably weird of me.
Nope, I’d worry about coming across that way too. My (soon to be) ex was incredibly good at being deeply sympathetic when saying it, but if you are not a 6+ foot tall man who looks like his heart is broken for you, I also have difficulty associating it with sincerity (as Janie S says below).
Nope, I feel exactly the same way. It sounds insincere and….selfish, in a way.
I wrote a condolence email to a former high school friend when her dad died. “I’m sorry about your dad,” I wrote. “I know you were close.”
“It’s okay,” she responded. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I came thisclose to blasting back, “THAT YOU KNOW OF.” Because I could pretty much see the smarm-ass smirk in her response, and if she can choose to be a jerk instead of saying politely, “Thank you; it’s been hard,” then I should get to be a jerk right back.
Oh my god, me too. Sorry is an expression of condolence! It does not necessarily mean that I blame myself!
I have taken to stealing from xkcd and responding, “That’s nice of you to say, but I know what I did.” It soothes my wounded spirits.
Coming here to say that. I know what I did.
For this we’ve been saying “That’s shitty” and save “sorry” for real apologies. I think it only works where this agreement has been reached.
I’ve also heard & used “That stinks” which is, admittedly, a weird phrase, but I tend to deploy it when the sad story is drawing on rather long and I’ve said “I’m sorry” enough times to feel self-conscious. (Not that I object to hearing the story, if you need to tell it! I just get awkward about my sympathetic noises sometimes.)
As a fellow Canadian, I totally agree! I am not claiming responsibility, just sympathizing! See also, why I apologize when you bump into me/I tell you you messed up my order/minor social annoyance. I’m not worried it’s my fault, it’s a general social lubricant to acknowledge that this is an awkward situation we have found ourselves in.
This bothers me as well, and my partner does it to me ALL THE TIME. I have taken to replying with “Well, then, I regret your inconvenience (/frustration/disappointment)” when he says I shouldn’t apologize, which seems to work.
I find the most helpful response to grief (in the event of a miscarriage, e.g.) is “I’m so sorry. How are you doing?” It puts the focus on them, rather than on your reaction, and gives them the option of how much they want to get into it. If they say “I’m doing fine, thanks, and how about those [local sports team]?” then you can safely leave it at that, but if they want to actually talk about it, then you’ve given them that option.
“I’m sorry, how are you doing?”
So simple but so perfect. I’m going to use this one from now on!
I have to disagree. Going through this right now. How am I doing? Awful. I want to tear out my eyeballs to distract myself from feeling so awful without being in pain. If my close friends ask me how I am doing, I cry and tell them I want to claw out my eyeballs, and that is okay. If not so close people (whether or not they know why I was away from the office) ask how I am doing, I get to choose to lie or start crying.
May I suggest “I am sorry, I hope you are doing okay!” As a close alternative where the object of your concern can say thanks and leave it at that if they don’t want to talk about feelings? There are ways to invite people to share without asking them to do so, which I would strongly advocate.
I’ve learned that there’s a switch thrown in a woman’s body when it gets pregnant that never goes back. It’s as if it keeps searching for that baby. The grief and ache go on and on. Every grocery store-bagger’s cheery “Happy Mother’s Day” is a knife. Every once in awhile, one runs the numbers to see how old that child would be now. I’ve not encountered any writing on the “flipped switch” myself but feel certain someone will.
it’s a lost child.
Agreeing with Anon above that “I’m sorry, how are you doing?” is best reserved for people who are close enough that they could sob on your shoulder, if that’s really how they’re doing. In any more distant relationships, you’re actually kind of putting them on the spot: they likely don’t want to share their most intimate feelings, whether those be rage or despair or desolation or something else, but they have to come up with SOME answer that doesn’t sound callous and isn’t too much of a lie.
In line with the original advice, I think, “I’m so sorry, do you want to talk about it?” is a better response. A yes or no answer can be given without it probing into the whole mess of their feelings. Or “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it” if you’re at work or somewhere where immediate talking is not an option.
Occasionally, when I apologize to him, my husband will respond with “I forgive you,” which sends me into a quiet frenzy of seething rage. I cannot stand “I forgive you” as the answer to a simple apology. To me, it is beyond condescending. Is this weird?
Yeah, I feel like “I forgive you” is only for when someone’s apologized for a really major life-altering thing.
Yeah, I think bringing “forgiveness” into it makes the whole thing much weightier, usually inappropriately. Most of the time, when we apologize, it’s for little things, the kinds of things we all do, and the “it’s ok” or “no problem” or (my personal go-to) “no worries” is meant to communicate “it wasn’t that big a deal, we all do stuff like that from time to time.”
Forgiveness is about much deeper hurts, situations where the wounded party would be justified in feeling severe and prolonged anger at the person who did the hurting.
It’s sanctimonious in a way I cannot fully explain.
Yes, exactly. I’ve tried explaining to him why I hate it, but I just… can’t, precisely.
I’ve resorted (frequently) to responding to an apology with “thank you,” usually when the thing being apologized for is not actually fine or okay, and never will be, but I appreciate the apology nonetheless.
I do that too. It seems a lot more polite than “I hereby acknowledge that you apologized, but I do not accept because I am going to be pissed at you for a damn long time.”
Ugh yes. Unless I accidentally killed someone you love “I forgive you” is unforgiveable.
Yes, it feels like “I forgive you” should only be used in movies when someone is shaking someone else by the shoulders and crying.
It’s terribly Pecksniffian, or possibly Mr Collins-ish. Either way, irritating in the extreme, and highly unlikely to evoke reciprocal thoughts of forgiveness.
In other words, it’s not just you.
Unless the person saying it is, in fact, Jesus of Nazareth, Only Begotten Son Of Our Lord, I don’t know that I would handle an ‘I forgive you’ much better than seething rage either.
My best friend and I have had variations on this conversation in either direction for years:
“I’m out of butter, sorry.”
“I shall forgive you, for I am a Christian.” (On a one to ten scale of smarm, this should be an eleven or—possibly— a twelve)
“I’m not going to stand here and be forgiven like this/go jump in a lake/ I’m choking on your aura of saintliness.”
You get extra points for forgiving someone preemptively.
Uuuugh I pissed my boyfriend off last night and I should probably apologize to him but this is a fight we’ve had before and I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong by playing pool with an old friend and giving him a hug. Just because you had a beef with him in high school (which we graduated from…17 years ago?) and still hate his guts doesn’t negate the fact that he’s been my friend longer than I’ve known you, boyfriend, and while I understand that you don’t want to talk to him, I don’t understand why I shouldn’t.
What? No, you are not the person who should be apologizing. You did nothing wrong. He should be apologizing for trying to control who you can be friends with. He doesn’t have to like it, but he can’t guilt you about it.
This! Somebody getting angry about your behaviour is not something that needs to be apologised for unless the actual behaviour was shitty.
I don’t think he’s mad about you seeing this friend, I suspect it’s more that it feels disloyal to him? No? Just me projecting again?
I’m sure that’s it.
So, okay, let’s mix and match the questions so I can sneakily turn this to my current dilemma: how do you accept *sympathy* gracefully?
I lost my grandfather last week, and it sucks. But it also sucks that I’ve avoided talking about it because I don’t know what to do when people tell me that they’re sorry for my loss. It’s not that I’m against people being kind, but I’m sort of working through my own grief – and, honestly, sometimes the surprising lack of it – and I feel very odd and disingenuous accepting people’s sympathy for my loss during the moments I’m hardly feeling it.
It’s not so bad with acquaintances, really. And the people I’m very, very close to are okay, because I don’t feel this odd need to preform my grief to them (most of the time. occasionally I worry I’m coming off as heartless and that that will stick with people). But the folks in between, the ones who I feel I should be honest with… I just don’t know. “I’m so sorry for your loss – you must be devastated” “Oh, no, really, I’m doing pretty okay!”… Ugh. Ugh! I don’t know.
It’s horribly similar to accepting a compliment. I know, it sounds awful, but generally speaking, it’s safe to say “Thank you” when someone expresses condolences.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” “Ah, thank you.” “You have my condolences.” “Thank you.” I mean, you don’t have to delve into your emotions if you don’t want to or you don’t feel it. In the wake of a loss, people will pretty much accept anything and won’t expect a whole lot from you. You can always throw in “That means a lot” or “I really appreciate it” or “you’re so thoughtful” or whatever, but really, truly, “thank you” will be enough.
When my grandmother passed away it was a horrible mix of emotions–she was very ill and had been suffering with Alzheimer’s for some time, so while I was grieving I wasn’t as devastated as I could have been, and I hit on “thank you” as a response because it didn’t require anything else and the conversation could….move on from there as best it could.
Ditto Aravis — “thank you” totally works and also shuts down the interaction if you want to do that, EITHER because it’s too emotional to talk about right now OR because you’re actually fine right now.
This is the kind of thing that gets easier with practice, too. It definitely feels awkward the first few times.
And I’m sorry for your loss.
This is what I eventually arrived at, too, after a family member I did not get along with died a few years ago. “Thank you,” and a change of subject, and most people will accept that as neutral/normal.
Thanks, this helps. I feel like I ought to know how to handle this kind of thing by now, but I’ve been lucky enough to live without a lot of loss.
I would just avoid the second half and say thankyou, and change the subject. At least, that’s what I did when I lost my dad – anyone who’s not in my very close friends whose shoulders I can break down on, I just acknowledged what they were saying, thanked them and that was it. Or even something like ‘thankyou, it’s tough at the minute’ which is noncommittal enough that you don’t feel like you’re lying to them, but also doesn’t open any cans of worms. You might know that the ‘tough’ thing is the lack of grief at any given moment, but they don’t need to.
My dad has cancer, so I have plenty of experience with this one! *sobs*
For those in between people, I like a combination of thanks + acknowledgment that it’s a difficult time (because it is for you, even if it’s just difficult because you’re figuring out why you’re not sadder) + laying out the rules of engagement.
“Thank you. It’s a difficult time. I’m still processing things, so I haven’t really been talking about it much. But if I need anything, I’ll definitely let you know.”
I think that last part is key, because it essentially ends the discussion. People who feel obligated to ask follow-up questions because that’s their part of the script don’t have to. And people who have Helper as their identity feel like you’ve opened up to them, and that their Helper-ness has been acknowledged.
I was going to suggest a version of this as well. Particularly if I am in a sad situation but not really overwhelmed, I generally say something along the lines of, “It is sad, but I’m doing ok.” I feel like it’s a little status update that lets people know I am having feelings but not in immediate need of assistance. “If I need anything, I’ll let you know” is a nice way of making that even more explicit.
I’m in a bit of a similar situation – my grandmother died recently, and at 98, it was more of a mercy than anything. I say “thank you, that’s so kind. She had an amazing life. May we all live to 98 and travel around the world three times!” I feel like I’m explaining why I’m not devastated and honouring her at the same time.”
I think that’s good to show people. I feel like sometimes people think you should be sadder than you really should be when it was an elderly person.
With my grandpa, I did all my grieving before he died, since we knew it was coming for a month or so. I got to spend time with him. I saw him suffering and that he was at peace and ready to go. After the fact I was only upset for my grandma’s sake, seeing her so sad.
Ugh and the sympathy makes me cry at nearly any funeral that I’m at. Not for the departed, but the grieving widow or mother that’s bawling. I cried at a 98-year-old’s funeral and no one got why. His wife was crying! They had been together since they were teenagers and she missed him so much! Everyone thought I was having trouble dealing with this man’s death that I barely knew.
This article and this comment in particular are spookily timely for me. I found out today that my biological father, from whom I am estranged, suffered is in a coma after suffering an aneurysm and doesn’t have a good prognosis. I am grieving, but for different reasons than people assume, and I’m also not sure what to do. He’s thousands of miles away and we haven’t spoken in years…but he’s my father. Anyway, your line about “performing my grief” is a perfect description.
And thankyou for those links about understanding miscarriages. My best friend lost her baby halfway along late last year due to a chromosome condition that meant the baby wouldn’t have lived.
I ddin’t know about the Jizo bodhisattva, but I’ve found an etsy shop that does lovely tiny Jizo statues and I’ve ordered one for her. She’s been struggling for beautiful and discreet things she can have in the house to remind her of Jaime without it being morbid and awful.
What a lovely gesture! I never thought to look for Jizo statues on Etsy, but since I could use one myself, I’m going to go look now. And I am so sorry for your friend’s loss.
I’m sorry you need one. I’ve gone for one from this guy: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/jizo
know your place in this person’s grief.
This is so important and can be really difficult. Acknowledging the grief and sorrow is essential, but don’t go overboard with a casual friend, colleague or acquaintance and above all, don’t make it about you.
After my dad passed away last summer, one of the harder and more painful parts was the varied reactions of his and my friends/colleagues/more distant family members. Most were supportive and caring, but some expected me to (a) explain every detail of what happened, or (b) make them feel better about it. The idea that I was supposed to comfort others about my dad’s death was a little hard to take.
Oh god, fuck those people.
Yup. My parents were in a car accident, and although both were hurt my step-dad suffered far worse injuries (from which he may never fully recover). Which meant that my mother, while still hospitalized, found herself fielding calls from people just wailing and crying about how horrible it all was that her husband was injured. I helped her shut it down by drilling into her: you are not responsible for managing other people’s emotions about this.
Oh God. This so much. Also, don’t tell me about the time your (fill in the blank) died. I understand that you’re trying to relate to me, but no matter how similar you think our situations are, it’s not the same. This shit is not about you.
Ugh, god. People wanting to know the details is the worst. Like, really? What’s wrong with you? If you’re that nosy, you can find someone else to tell you how it happened besides the people directly affected.
At my father’s memorial service, someone asked my sister, “So, what actually happened to your dad?”
She answered, “We’re not going to talk about that today. We’re here to celebrate his life.”
(She’s the awesomest.)
Last December I had to terminate a pregnancy at 15 weeks because my baby had a chromosomal condition that’s incompatible with life, and the testing confirmed that every system of her body was unsurvivably malformed. I was afraid at first to tell people because I wanted to be honest that, despite having no “real” choice, I did choose to terminate, and I wasn’t sure how people would respond. But pretty much everybody I know was totally lovely, even near strangers. “I’m sorry you’re going through this” was my favorite condolence, because it acknowledged that it was an ongoing struggle.
Other people’s grief can make you shy, but don’t let it. If you keep it minimal, you’re not going to screw it up, and every bit of well-wishing helps. I’ve grown much closer to my friends who reached out to me, and much more distant from those who didn’t.
Massive sympathy and condolences to you. My friend was also worried about how people would react, I told her to send anyone who was anything less than 100% sympathetic and respectful to me and I’d tear their heads off on her behalf. Same goes for you if you want an angry internet stranger to stick up for you!
Thank you! And for the record, “ferociously protective” is always a welcome response, too.
When someone has a miscarriage, please, please do not tell them the more horrifying story about what happened to your friend. I had at least three people who told me stories about late term miscarriages and stillbirths. It does not help to hear it could have been worse.
I think “I’m sorry” and “How are you?” are the only good responses.
Wow, I’m sorry that people actually responded like that. I think many people are so uncomfortable with grief that it gives them verbal diarrhea. I always try to remind myself that less is more when it comes to that.
Thanks! I know that these friends were trying to help but at the time it was truly horrifying. Best to just listen when someone is in grief over anything. Just let them talk.
Oh, god, yes. I had my best friend tell me some horrific story about her colleague that had a stillbirth after I told her about my 10 week miscarriage. It did not help and though I haven’t really brought it up, it did major damage to our relationship and my feelings for her.
Usually when someone apologizes to me (and this is if they are taking responsibility for themselves, not trying to smooth things over with light words). So to a serious apology I would say something like I’m really happy that you care enough about our relationship to talk about this hard stuff and it makes me feel closer and trust you more that you were able to approach me and say [insert what what they said here]. Then I might also own my part if there were a part to own and then say something like, I feel like this disagreement is over if you think it’s over? Then we can smile and make loving eye contact again.
In the times I have experienced the kind of grief that puts you on another planet, the people who have helped me the most were the ones who echoed back at me exactly what I said to them about my pain, I remember once I went to a friend, and I could barely speak my grief was so overwhelming and I told her how much pain I was in and she looked at me with so much kindness and love and understanding and said gently “it hurts doesn’t it, it’s so hard” and I got a little lighter and have always remembered it.
I agree that checking to see if a situation is over is a good step if at all possible. It gets at the spirit of forgiveness, which is mending the relationship. (Or at least yourself in relation to it.)
I’m glad to hear acknowledgement of hurt is a helpful thing to hear in the right circumstances. It’s something I sometimes want to do, but I’m afraid of presuming I know what the other person is feeling.
I think the key part is that it’s echoing what they’ve already said. You don’t say “it hurts, it’s so hard” until the hurting person has already expressed those feelings.
On the talking to hurt kids thing, a friend of mine had a strategy of calmly asking her toddler son, “Can you tell me what happened?” when he was doing the thing where he had a minor bump and was trying to decide whether to shake it off or go into full melt-down mode (which “Are you okay??” can trigger, of course).
I thought it was very clever, ’cause it acknowledges the pain and makes the kid slow down and think a minute to put what happened into words. If it’s really painful, they’ll still be upset or unable to verbalize and you can comfort them appropriately. If not, talking through it gives them a way to express what happened without freaking out. Dunno if this works with all kids, but I’ve squirreled it away for future testing.
I’m a big fan of “Can you tell me what happened?” Also, “Can you tell me what you need?” It validates that something has happened, but it doesn’t (usually) escalate the situation. And it has the added bonus of teaching kids to speak their needs, which is something a lot adult struggle with.
We had very good luck with ‘can you tell me what happened?’ with our daughter, and now she is old enough that when there is a meltdown anyway some of the time she tells me, “I’m FINE it just takes a long time to calm down!”
This was a great column, and I’m sorry (ha) but I laughed so hard at the mean thing you said. I’m one of those annoying people who always knows where her keys/phone/wallet/gum/chapstick are, and my lose-everything-all-the-time friends drive me crazy.
I thought that was amusing too, and not horrible at all, but then I am also one of those people who can find everything. I frequently ask my husband if he has tried “looking with his eyes” when he can’t find his keys/phone/something in the fridge. It’s snarky but really that’s all there is to it!
My brother will call my mom who lives 100 miles away from him to tell her he can’t find x pair of shoes or his tv remote. She gets a kick out of this.
I always thought of “look with your eyes not your mouth” as a very Dad thing to say because that’s what my dad always said.
My sister says this to her daughter who has a habit of gazing blindly around the room and claiming she can’t find something, even when she’s standing right in front of it. She also has to be reminded to ‘listen with your ears’. (But then she is 7, so she can hav a bit of slack.)
Oh listen, you drive us crazy too, it’s not like I WANT to be this way.
Have you tried looking with your eyes?
*sorry/not sorry*
P.S. I love your username.
I frequently have trouble finding things and it is absolutely because I lack conviction. I laughed at that line too.
Also: Don’t keep asking someone who has experienced a loss how they are / if they are ok, unless you are prepared to actually hear about how they REALLY ARE FEELING.
Late to the thread, but just in case… I am not sure how to deal with one of my coworkers. We had an alarmingly stressful week, and in the worst of it I admittedly snapped at many of my coworkers and behaved not-as-well-as-I-ought. However, the next day, she waited until we were alone (but not in private) and dressed me up and down for at least 5 minutes about how “everyone is upset with you” and “you really alienated everyone” and “you owe So-and-So a big apology” – which is not her job, she is not the Lorax, she does not speak for the trees.
The best I could do in the moment was acknowledge “yes, I know I behaved poorly, I was aware of it when I was doing it but I was in fight-or-flight mode,” etc., but she kept hammering at it until I apologized to her briefly, after which she said “you don’t need to apologize!” Which, clearly, you thought I did or you would not have made me feel small and bring tears to my eyes, so shut the fuck up.
I’ve been playing nice with her the rest of this week, and I’m on vacation next week, but I feel that her actions were presumptive and thoughtless. UGH WHAT DO I DO? I have more seniority at the firm but she is older so I feel that there’s a power play going on here too, which is so stupid.
“I appreciate that you felt comfortable enough with me to address the instances of last week. I acknowledge that I did not act in a manner that was compatible with the personalities of our firm, and that I overstepped my bounds. However, I am very disappointed in how you handled our discussion — it was quite hostile, and very personal. I think that you really overstepped your bounds, but I’m glad that this came up with me and not a more sensitive member of our team, since I really think that a bit more understanding and compassion, even while you’re frustrated, is a more effective way of handling this type of issue. You did not have to say things to attempt to make me feel small or personally upset, and it is incredibly unprofessional to do that, even if you think you’re fighting fire with fire. I hope that you can learn from this experience and approach these delicate situations with more forethought in the future.”
And not in writing.
#likeaboss
I think it’s also important to have something to say when someone apologizes and you are NOT ready to forgive them.
Like, “Thank you for apologizing, I really appreciate it. I’m still going to need a little time, though. Let’s talk in a few days.”
Agreeing with Anon above that "I'm sorry, how are you doing?" is best reserved for people who are close enough that they could sob on your shoulder, if that's really how they're doing. In any more distant relationships, you're actually kind of putting them on the spot: they likely don't want to share their most intimate feelings, whether those be rage or despair or desolation or something else, but they have to come up with SOME answer that doesn't sound callous and isn't too much of a lie.
In line with the original advice, I think, "I'm so sorry, do you want to talk about it?" is a better response. A yes or no answer can be given without it probing into the whole mess of their feelings. Or "I'm here if you ever want to talk about it" if you're at work or somewhere where immediate talking is not an option.
Yeah, I think bringing "forgiveness" into it makes the whole thing much weightier, usually inappropriately. Most of the time, when we apologize, it's for little things, the kinds of things we all do, and the "it's ok" or "no problem" or (my personal go-to) "no worries" is meant to communicate "it wasn't that big a deal, we all do stuff like that from time to time."
Forgiveness is about much deeper hurts, situations where the wounded party would be justified in feeling severe and prolonged anger at the person who did the hurting.
I think the key part is that it's echoing what they've already said. You don't say "it hurts, it's so hard" until the hurting person has already expressed those feelings.
I frequently have trouble finding things and it is absolutely because I lack conviction. I laughed at that line too.
I don't think that's the case at all. A year ago tomorrow, I had a miscarriage of twins. I went through about a month of grief, and I remembered the pregnancy when their due date came around. But other than that, the lasting result on my part is that my hair got curlier. I didn't feel any particular twinge at Mother's Day, and I don't have a problem at all with other people's babies / pregnancies.
ever see a kid fall down? and not cry until an adult asks if s/he is (going to be) okay? yeah. this is why teachers go with "you're okay." validating a child's emotional response to something is wonderful, but precipitating one by projecting your fear of injury onto the child is not. it's a fine line. and while teaching a child that his/her emotions matter is absolutely important, it's also important to teach them to pick themselves up when they fall. they don't do this if they're coddled. again, fine line.
I wrote a condolence email to a former high school friend when her dad died. "I'm sorry about your dad," I wrote. "I know you were close."
"It's okay," she responded. "It wasn't your fault."
I came thisclose to blasting back, "THAT YOU KNOW OF." Because I could pretty much see the smarm-ass smirk in her response, and if she can choose to be a jerk instead of saying politely, "Thank you; it's been hard," then I should get to be a jerk right back.
I do that too. It seems a lot more polite than "I hereby acknowledge that you apologized, but I do not accept because I am going to be pissed at you for a damn long time."