If a quick “I’m sorry” actually fixed relationships, I’d be out of a job. My clients tell me this all the time: He apologized, but I still feel awful. Why can’t I just accept it and move on?

Here’s the truth: your body isn’t broken for needing more. An apology without safety is like slapping a bandaid on a cut that hasn’t been cleaned—it looks like repair, but underneath, things are still festering.

In this episode, I break down:

• Why rushed apologies feel like pressure instead of healing
• The role of your nervous system in deciding if an apology “lands”
• How everyday ruptures—missed commitments, sharp words, moments of invisibility—become triggers when apologies don’t connect
• The difference between a performance apology and an embodied one
• A simple two-question check-in to know if you’re ready to accept (or offer) repair

At the core, this isn’t about perfect words. It’s about creating the safety your body needs so that “I’m sorry” becomes a bridge, not a wall.

If apologies have ever left you feeling tense instead of soothed, this conversation will reframe the entire process. Remember: Safety before sorry.

✨ Tune in now to learn how slowing down and softening creates space for real repair and deeper connection. ✨

Free Resources:

Email Course: Break the Cycle - 7 Days to Break the Conflict Loop

www.drrachelorleck.com

Apologies, Safety, and Nervous System Healing (Edit)

Someone offers an apology and maybe even it happens quickly, and instead of feeling relief, you feel tighter. Like your body is saying, Nope, not safe yet. But then your brain piles on, they're apologizing. Why can't I just get over it? And here's the thing that no one tells you. Your body doesn't care about politeness or perfect phrasing.

Why apologies fall flat and what your body is actually asking for before it can let in an apology, and how you can start noticing the difference between words that are soothing and words that just skim right off. Let's talk about what this looks like in real life, because apologies don't usually collapse in dramatic movie level moments.

And then comes the apology. But the apology doesn't connect. Instead of relief, it feels like pressure. The apologizer is thinking, alright, I'm doing the right thing. Can't we move on? Now? Meanwhile, the receiver is thinking, wait a second. You don't even understand why I am upset. And here's the kicker. When this happens often enough, the apology itself starts to become a trigger.

And instead of hearing it as repair. The listener starts to hear it as a way to shut down the conversation. Like, oh, this is the part where you slap a bandaid on it and we don't have to talk about this anymore. That's why so many people say things like, we are fine on the surface, but I just don't feel close.

I feel exhausted just thinking about it right now, and it leaves both people feeling like they're speaking different languages. One says, I apologized and the other says, yeah, but I still don't feel okay. This is the part that gets really twisted in people's minds when an apology doesn't soothe. Most people blame themselves like they're too sensitive or they can't let things go.

So let's reframe that. Apologies aren't the starting line of repair. They're actually further down the track. First comes the recognition, then the safety, and then the apology. Without those earlier steps be, I'm sorry, is just like building a house on sand. So I can think of a few times in my history with my husband where we've had our conversation.

It's not because I don't trust him, but my nervous system doesn't feel like it's truly been seen yet. And until that happens, my body can't fully relax and take in that repair. So if you've been telling yourself I should be able to accept their apology, pause right there because you're not defective and you're not doing this wrong.

It's about the state of the nervous system in that exact moment. So when conflict hits your body flips into survival mode. That might look like fight. So sharp words, defensiveness that might look like flight, walking out the door, freeze, going numb and shutting down, or fawn, which is appeasing to calm things down.

So this is why things like sorry, can feel like static instead of actually feeling healing, your body is scanning for the Am I safe or am I understood? And until those questions are really answered with a resounding yes, no words are gonna stick. Both partners often misinterpret this. The Apologizer thinks, why can't you just accept my apology?

Why can't we just move on? The receiver is thinking, geez, why doesn't this feel better when really their body is saying just not yet. I'm still guarding the door. That's biology. Your nervous system is designed to protect you from harm first, and then when it feels safe, it can open the door to connection, which means that rushing into an, I'm sorry, actually skips the sequence that your body needs in order to feel calm.

On the other side, there's a repair attempt that starts with presence and a partner notices the tension and slows down before speaking and their voice softens. They pause to really look at the person in front of them. That slowing is what begins to signal safety. I can think of a client where this really applied.

She knew that our partner saw that she was hurt. She knew that he really felt badly that she was hurting because of something he did, but she didn't feel like he understood why that hurt her well enough for it not to happen again. So we were able to talk through it and help her communicate to him what she was really afraid of.

I care about that hurt, and I want to meet you there in it. It's the same three words I am sorry, with a completely different impact. So when the pattern shifts, the apology becomes more than words, it becomes a bridge. And listeners tell me, that's when I feel like they finally got it and my body started to unclench and relax and I could finally let the repair in.

It's not a giant overhaul, it's just one clear move. So here's the practice I wanna leave you with today. A two-part self check-in before you try to accept someone's apology or before you offer one pause. Pause and ask yourself these two questions. First, do I feel safe enough in my body right now to let this in?

That doesn't mean fully calm, just that your chest isn't clenched tight and your breath isn't stuck in your throat somewhere. Second, do I feel seen enough in this moment to let the words matter if your partner hasn't named what actually hurt? Your body is probably still holding the door shut. So if the answer to either question is no, you don't have to force yourself.

And if it's a yes, the apology can land. And if it's a no, it's okay to wait. You can keep talking, keep understanding, and try again. This is what I want you to walk away with today. If apologies have felt hollow, it's not because you're bad of forgiveness or because you're too sensitive or demanding, and it's not because your partner is doing something wrong necessarily.

It's really in the safety underneath how you create an environment to be seen, understood, and safe before the apology is delivered. When it doesn't, they bounce right off. Our culture uses apology as a way to stop conversations or move things forward more quickly. But what we don't take into account is this.

If things are glossed over, then they're just gonna sit there. They fester over time. It's the infection under the bandaid. That's why our longing for this connection and this understanding makes sense. You don't just want the words, you want the moment to mean something. You want to feel like the door of your nervous system is finally able to creak open instead of having to slam shut to protect you.

So remember, you're not broken for needing more. You are human and your needs for repair that feels real, is not too much. It's the exact doorway into deeper connection.