Quotealicious
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I’m Sorry
The Hardest Words to Say
Need-to-Knows
• “I’m sorry” don’t have to be the hardest words to say. But they are some of the most important.
• Apologies don’t make one person a winner and the other a loser.
• A good apology says what went wrong, which feelings got hurt, and what should’ve happened instead.
• One mistake does not a friendship break.
• Forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting.
Asperkid Logic
You’ve probably heard that we Aspies see the world in black and white. Not as in old-TV-show-black-and-white, but as in up-or-down, in-or-out, all-or-nothing. People, however, are not that simple. Neither are the ways they get along. Which is why when somebody steps on somebody else’s feelings—by accident or not—repair work has to be done if the two people are going to continue to get along.
In an either/or, right or wrong world, one side is the “winner” and the other is the “loser.” No wonder Aspies can have such a tough time apologizing. Who wants to be the loser? Right? Wrong. Apologizing doesn’t mean someone is a loser, it means the relationship is more important than your ego.
Why is Saying “Sorry” So Important?
Think of a good relationship as a balanced scale. Both sides are equal. When one person hurts the other, she essentially “steals” some of his happiness. The scale is lopsided. If that relationship is going to get back to a “balanced” place, she’s going to have to make things right again. That’s the apology. And while no one likes to apologize, I’ve learned the secret behind this rule: saying you are sorry isn’t a sign that you are weak or the “loser.” Actually, just the opposite is true.
Apologies aren’t easy because they’re not supposed to be. Saying sorry is meant to make us feel awkward. Maybe even nervous or rattled. That’s why, when done right, apologies are so powerful. It’s uncomfortable to admit that we’ve hurt someone’s feelings. It’s also uncomfortable to “hold the pillow” and really face our less-than-best-selves head-on. We Aspies aren’t worth less than anyone else, but we’re not worth more either.
And Now…A Story from “This is My Aspie Life”
It was mid-afternoon when my mom pulled into the parking lot. She was a little bit late in arriving to pick a friend and me up from a shopping trip because she’d been at the hair salon. Things had apparently not gone as they usually did, and when she drove up, I should’ve noticed two things right away: her face was flushed and her voice sounded funny. But I didn’t notice. I was too caught up in having a friend by my side. I don’t know what happened to my mom at the salon, but she muttered something to us about not being happy with the stylist or the cut. And yes, it really did look terrible.
Without thinking, I made some wisecrack like, “I can see why you’re mad!” and giggled to my friend. I was trying to be funny and cool, I guess. Trying to impress her (really dumb move). You know, I can’t even remember who that girl was now. But I can remember my mom’s reaction. She started crying. It never even occurred to me that she could feel embarrassed like I did when kids laughed at me. Yet obviously, she did.
Sometimes we can tell that we’ve done something wrong but aren’t sure what. Other times, like this awful moment, we just totally and completely blow it. Maybe those apologies should be the easiest—there was no doubt about who was wrong in this case. But I didn’t want to be the loser. And I was really, really ashamed. My pride got in the way of making things right. As often as I’d been made fun of, I’d just done the same to my poor mom. So I argued that she was overreacting. That I hadn’t meant any harm. But the whole time, I knew it was me.
Here’s the thing: saying and being sorry is really, really important. We have to feel safe with the people who are close to us. We have to know that they care about how we feel and are willing to admit their mistakes. But it’s also important for them to feel safe with us. If we can’t or don’t take responsibility for things we do wrong, we make others feel that they can’t trust us…which is not going to win us any friends.
A really good apology shows that you value making things right more than you value being right.
A Good Apology?
A good apology needs the right place and the right words to have the right effect.
What’s the Right Place?
Alone. Whatever is wrong is between you and another person and should stay that way. Ask to speak in private and in person (definitely avoid texting or online wall posts).
What’s the Right Way?
For an apology to mean something, you have to understand what you did and why you’re saying you are sorry. In other words, you have to see (though not necessarily agree with) the other person’s point of view.
Uh-oh. Wait. That whole understanding someone else’s feelings thing? That’s empathy, right? Right. Aspie pitfall alert! Because we have a harder time interpreting body language or tone of voice, Aspies often don’t even realize we’ve done something hurtful. That makes it really hard to take responsibility for a mistake or ask for forgiveness.
If you think someone is upset with you, but don’t know why, ask. You may feel scared of the answer; you may not even agree with it. But NOT knowing (or pretending not to know) why the other person is hurt doesn’t make the problem go away—it only makes it worse. So does being too scared or too proud to apologize. Don’t be afraid to step up and ask to talk.
If you do see that you’ve made a mistake, do something about it. After all, if you were driving a car and realized you’d missed your highway exit, would you just keep driving? No. You’d pull off, turn around and get back on the right road. That’s what you need to do with people, too.
In one of my favorite books, All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten (Fulghum 2004), little kids remind us that we learned all the important stuff a long time ago. Among the lessons they share are: “Play fair…Clean up your own mess,” and, “Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.” If little kids can do this, so can we.
The Trusty Apology Formula
1. Say, “I’m sorry.” Own it. Don’t make any excuses or try to wriggle out of it. You are here to make things right.
2. Now’s when you fill in the part about what you did. Be as clear and particular as you can be—that’s how the other person knows you listened and heard his version of events.
3. Bonus points! How might you feel if the roles were reversed? There’s a pretty good chance that’s what he’s feeling now. Say so.
4. Say that you won’t do it again. And mean it. Sorry is as sorry does. If you say you won’t repeat an offense, but keep doing the same thing over and again, you aren’t really sorry.
5. Ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn’t mean the mistake is forgotten or even that the hurt is gone—that takes time. Forgiveness means that he understands and believes you are truly sorry.
An example (that I wish I’d have used!) might go like this:
“Mom, I’m sorry I made fun of your haircut and maybe made you feel embarrassed, too. I won’t tease you again. Will you please forgive me?”
On the flip side, if someone cares enough about you to offer a sincere apology, accept it. Remember the dangers of black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinking:
One mistake does not a friendship break.
You mess up, I mess up. An occasional blunder doesn’t mean we’re completely disposable (thank goodness!).
Sometimes “I’m Sorry” Doesn’t Cut It
There are a few special situations where “I’m sorry” is not enough to keep you around:
• If any relationship involves you having to say sorry often, it’s probably not a very healthy one to be in.
• If someone asks for forgiveness, but then continues to hurt you, that’s not really being sorry, no matter how hard they claim to be “trying.” Forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting or being someone’s doormat.
• Remember the rule about no excuses? If another person apologizes but then finds a way to blame you for the mistake he or she made, that’s a no-go. You are never responsible for someone else choosing to hurt you. Ever.
• And last, take this from someone who has been there: no one—ever, for any reason—gets to hurt you or make you feel afraid. No apology covers that. No excuses or explanations. Period.
Making friends isn’t nearly as hard as keeping them, I have found. One takes a few conversation starters or a common interest. The other takes effort, time, and a lot of sustained attention. In fact, in a lot of cases, you only know you’ve made a true friend once you’ve had a rough patch and worked your way back through it together. It takes a big person to say those two very little—very powerful—words, “I’m sorry.” It takes another to hear them and accept them. Then, once it’s done, let it be done. Agree to put the whole deal behind you and move on to a better tomorrow.
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The “Perseverance” of “Perserverance”
Being Right vs. Being Included
Need-to-Knows
• Being right isn’t always the most important thing, even when it feels that way.
• How you correct an error (humbly, in private) is as important as whether you correct it.
• Peers don’t like to be corrected by one another.
• Unless there’s danger, never correct an adult or authority figure.
• Knowing when, how or if you should point out someone’s mistake isn’t easy, but it is doable.
Asperkid Logic
For Aspies, words have to be accurate. Facts have to be true. Or valid. Or at least not wrong. Listening to anything less is like nails on a chalkboard or the sound of styrofoam blocks rubbing together. It’s grating and almost impossible to ignore.
There was an uncle in the family who had a collection of Hummels: collectable ceramic figurines that were awfully popular in the 1950s and 1960s. Mostly, they are little Germanic kids in kerchiefs and scarves and clogs…and they are NOT playthings. Ask any kid who has ever visited a house where someone collects Hummels, and they know. You don’t touch the Hummels.
Well, Uncle Bob had Hummels. They lined his high shelves, perfectly arranged for display, yet most definitely out of reach. Only they weren’t high enough. Because when the kids would visit, someone always snuck away to the collection, reached up…and turned around one Hummel. Just to mess with him. Just one, little, tiny thing off—among the otherwise meticulously arranged ceramic children—would be as irritating as that little tag in the neck of your new shirt.
To Aspies, getting things right isn’t about being the one who is right, it’s about having things as they should be.
Neurotypicals don’t really get that. On their end, they see us breaking all sorts of other social rules in pursuit of the highest Aspie rule of all—truth. And so, if you correct a teacher who asks you to put away your coat and you reply that you don’t have a coat, you have a rain jacket, she is not going to care that, in fact, you are correct. She’s going to notice (as are the kids around you) that you have just simultaneously broken two social rules—(1) Not correcting people in front of others, and (2) Not correcting an elder. Big no-no’s. So you, my friend, are in trouble. Oh…and the kids who heard the conversation are probably thinking that you are trying to embarrass the teacher—probably also not a big win.
Sometimes, the world feels like it just goes a million miles wrong in an instant. You were talking about rain jackets and suddenly everyone’s mad at you. When did THAT happen?
The Lesson of the Whiteboard
Last week, I was at the karate studio near our house. They are awesome instructors with a great dedication to helping kids grow into amazing people, not just into black-belts. One of the ways they do that is by highlighting a character word each week. This particular week the word happened to be “perseverance.” On every whiteboard in the room, they’d written “perseverance” in bright markers. Bold, fluorescent, “perseverance.” Only I noticed a blaring mistake. Instead of “perserverance,” they’d written “perseverance.”
Of course, they meant stick-to-it-ive-ness. But when talking “Aspie,” perseverance usually means “obsession.” One idea—stuck in your head—repeating over and over. And over. And over.
And there I was, perseverating on the word perseverance. I couldn’t pay attention to the lesson, or the instructors. All I could think about was that “perserverance” was written (everywhere I looked) as “perseverance.”
This wasn’t the first time that had happened. A couple of months ago, the cycle of character words had been in the same spot, and once again, they had misspelled “perserverance.” Without really thinking about it, I’d blurted out to the instructors (in front of spectators and a class) that they’d made a mistake and misspelled the word of the week.
In all fairness, they were way nicer than they needed to be. I’m pretty sure the teacher blushed—because in pointing out a blunder, I had, albeit unintentionally, made him feel dumb for making a lame spelling error. He laughed it off, and I (trying hard to stuff my words back into my mouth) tried to blow it off by making a lame joke about being a spelling fanatic. AWK-WARD.
That’s kind of the way this Aspies-must-be-accurate-about-all-things trouble goes down. We Aspies are never going to escape our urgent need for precision. That’s OK. Actually, it’s more than OK. It’s part of what makes our minds special and able to achieve the levels of intense analysis that allowed Marie Curie to discover radium or Mozart to compose with such genius.
It’s just that the karate studio is not the Curies’ lab. And the school lunchroom is not Mozart’s study.
If we want the neurotypical world to react positively to us, we have to learn the secret rules for how and when to make corrections. This, like everything else I’m telling you, I have learned from first NOT knowing the rules.
Basically, you have to look at the payoff. It feels good to fix an error. Like cracking a knuckle or taking a deep breath. Ah, that’s better. But that’s only true for the one who did the fixing. Think about it: if someone points out your social mistakes frequently, or when others are watching, how do you feel? Probably annoyed and embarrassed at the very least.
How You Correct an Error is at Least as Important as Whether You Correct It
What are you doing right now? You’re reading a book that is, well, talking about some of our common Aspie pitfalls. You can handle this because I am telling you privately (well, yes, it’s a book, but you ARE reading my words, not having them read TO you). Furthermore, the prospect of feeling better about yourself, having more friends, dates, getting along with adults, is worth a little discomfort.
It’s almost like a math equation. Which is greater, the importance of making a particular correction right away OR holding on long enough to do something else about it? Is your goal to have things be “right” or to start a fight? We Aspies operate on logic most of the time. The rest of the world doesn’t. Out there, pride, emotion and reputations rule. So, be careful. A famous book says the first principle to getting along with others is “don’t criticize, condemn or complain” (Carnegie 1936, p.17). But criticism is exactly how your correction may sound to others’ ears.
And that’s a powerful and dangerous thing—even if you don’t mean it to be. Challenging another person usually hurts his pride and makes him feel embarrassed or dumb. Once that happens, the result is almost NEVER graceful acceptance or change for the better; it’s feelings of anger and resentment toward you. The more you try to prove someone wrong, the more he’s likely to argue he is right.
In some cases, “correct it now” does win. Before your lab partner dumps an explosive into the Bunsen burner, yes—now is the time to stop her. Emergencies notwithstanding, though, here are some guidelines to help figure out when/whether it is worth making a correction:
The If’s, When’s and How’s
Evaluate: Can It Wait?
• Is he/she busy ri
ght now? Too busy to really listen?
• Is he/she in front of other people?
• Does the “error” change the main idea, or is it just a detail?
• Does an approximation have to be specific to get the general point across (i.e. that a trip is thirteen minutes long, not ten)?
• Is anyone going to be harmed by letting it be wrong?
If you can, hold on until you think it through some more. You can even write down what you want to say if you really need to “get it out” immediately…like a pressure release.
Privacy, Please
No one likes to be corrected in front of other people. When I was a kid, there was nothing worse than if my mom punished me in front of other people. I couldn’t even hear her point; I was too busy being mortified. Same goes. When you correct someone in front of a crowd, they don’t listen, they react (and not well, usually). If your intention is really just to correct a mistake and not to embarrass the person who made it, wait until you are alone.
Online, Too
The Asperkid's (Secret) Book of Social Rules Page 6