Adapted from an online discussion.
Dear Carolyn: I keep searching for the words to tell my adult children that I am so sorry I failed them so completely. I’m not seeking anything for myself, I just don’t want to leave the earth without them knowing that I know. Is that even useful or merely self-serving? I truly don’t know which option might be best for them. Your mom was a failure and she died. Or, your mom was a failure and she died, and she was so sorry.
— Failure
Failure: Your reference to death is concerning. If you are in crisis, please call 988.
The crisis line can help you find counseling, too. I urge you to get started to talk these things over. That’s a lot of pain to manage alone, and you don’t have to.
Therapy can help you zero in on what you want your kids to know, too. The kind of broad apology you’re talking about tends to shift the responsibility onto the recipient. I’ll use my own thought process to illustrate this phenomenon: As I read your question, I thought, “You most likely didn’t fail them ‘completely,’” and “You did your best.” Broad, dire statements of fault invite these reflexive, sympathetic responses — and if I were your child, I might feel resentful that what started as your trying to make me feel better ended with my trying to make you feel better. I hope I’m explaining that clearly.
With proper care and support, I advise you to think carefully about specific things you wish you had done differently. Apologies with both detail and genuine remorse can be very satisfying for people you harmed, and therefore good for you in a more meaningful way than just checking a box. For example, “When you were young, I was focused on _____ and didn’t hear you asking me for _____. I am so sorry, and I also regret that it took me so long to understand.”
Please call 988, and take care.
READERS’ thoughts:
∙ My mom was a whopper of a failure. Over the years, she’s made statements such as, “Oh yeah, I was a terrible mother.” It just rings as her wanting me to rescue her from that reality by saying, “Oh no, you weren’t.” Not until she actually apologizes for her emotional unavailability, substance use, and lack of mental and emotional maturity will I know she’s done the hard labor of examining herself and making amends.
· If you don’t have the means for a therapist, then “Sorry, Sorry, Sorry” by Marjorie Ingall and Susan McCarthy and “Why Won’t You Apologize?” by Harriet Lerner discuss how to write an effective apology.
∙ It would have meant a lot to me if my mother had apologized. But she died convinced she was the perfect mother and my siblings and I were too sensitive.
∙ My mother apologized for not doing more to prevent my father’s physical abuse of me — routine beatings — as well as his more general emotional abuse. I told her at the time, sincerely, that her apology meant a lot to me but wasn’t necessary.
Through a lot of therapy and reflection, I realized my father was a narcissist and abusive to many around him, including my mother. She did what she could — in incredibly trying situations — to support me and ensure that I knew I was loved. I think what worked in my mother’s apology was the specificity and the timing — a quiet moment when I was visiting her. She also added that she wasn’t asking for and didn’t expect my forgiveness. And I believed her.
