The Thing Beyond “I’m Sorry”

The word contrition keeps finding its way into my conversations and, therefore, my psyche.

Contrition is sorrow. It is remorse for having done something hurtful to someone. Perhaps intentionally, but more importantly, unintentionally. Unconsciously.

The depth to which the unconscious has a hold on us is unknowable. Only through its spontaneous actions does it reveal itself. Whether we choose to see that face—the face of ourselves—is the deeper curiosity.

I work with a lot of individuals and couples. A theme that often surfaces is a woman needing something more from her partner. A simple apology is often not enough.

I take issue with this at times. Sometimes an apology seems sufficient. But with the wounds that accumulate throughout long-term relationships, something else is often being sought. It’s more than, “I forgot to order dinner,” or, “Sorry, I made plans and forgot to tell you.”

It’s the long nights she spent worried while he was out drinking. The business trips that stirred suspicion. The betrayals, selfishness, broken trust, and accumulated hurts. The ways people feel wronged by one another are endless.

The same is true for men. But in my experience, men don’t seek contrition the same way women do. Men often want acknowledgment, respect, and changed behavior.

Women do too.

But many women (myself included) often want something more. We want evidence that our pain has truly been seen. We want to know that the impact mattered. Over and over again.

This can be exhausting to witness. And I think it’s exhausting because there is something real about it. Otherwise, it wouldn’t keep finding its way into my work, my relationships, and my reflections.

I say this knowing my observations are shaped by my own experiences. They carry my projections, losses, pains, and regrets.

When I work with men and women, I am reminded that we carry different burdens. Men carry their own conditioning around what it means to be a man. Women carry the weight of their depth, their relational nature, and the countless responsibilities they often shoulder.

Women, however, do have this amazing, obnoxious, wonderful, annoying, beautiful, frustrating way of being.

We do. We want more. We always want more.

I could go down a rabbit hole about archetypes, patriarchy, matriarchy, and the rise of the Feminine as to why we want more and feel its “due”. I could also tell you how I’ve tried to feminize the men in my life—and how persistently reality pushed back. But men must come to their own growth in their own way. Just as women must wrestle with our own limitations.

Back to contrition.

Contrition is not guilt. It is consciousness meeting humility.

It is the deliberate cleaning up of a mess I made unintentionally. It says, authentically:

“I made this mess between us. I see its damage. I see its impact. I see it. And I’m sorry.”

Done.

A woman often feels a profound sigh of relief when contrition is offered. I’ve witnessed it and felt it. But will she hold onto it?  Will she remember it the next time she reaches for the weapons of the past? Will she remember his vulnerable offering? Will it be enough? Often if behavior isn’t changed the same thing keeps happening. I’ve done this. Yet, if contrition is truly offered and received. It should be enough!

This is depth work.

This is understanding consciousness and learning how to work with it through relationship. Through your own conditioning.

The struggle between men and women is a tale as old as time because we are men and women trying to navigate this crazy, amazing, fucked-up world together.

It is the conditioning of our minds and the stories we attach to them that often prevent us from giving and receiving the offering of the other. Yes, it’s past hurt but once its cleaned up its cleaned up! Slowly the feeling of “good enough” is enough.

When we pay closer attention to the mind, its endless stream of thoughts, and the conditioning beneath them, and when we seek humility for our own humanness, old stories can die.

In their place, something else becomes possible: A new and intimate way, of seeing ourselves and the other, and ultimately deepening the spiritual partnership.