Sometimes Being Understood Matters More Than an Apology

One of my mentors taught me something that has stayed with me throughout my work as a counsellor. She used to say that when we really feel seen and understood, sometimes we don’t even need an apology anymore.

I understood what she meant theoretically. Throughout my training in psychology, systemic counselling and Emotionally Focused Therapy, I had learned how important emotional validation and empathy are. But then something happened in her own life that made this lesson much more real to me.

A conversation that changed everything

My mentor had been in conflict with someone for many years. There had been a lot of hurt between them. She had felt silenced, dismissed and misunderstood.

And then, after all those years, they finally had a conversation. What made that conversation so extraordinary wasn’t simply that the other person said they were sorry. It was that they showed her how deeply they had come to understand what had happened.

They acknowledged the specific ways they had silenced her, dismissed her experiences and made her feel as though she was overreacting. They didn’t just say, “I’m sorry that you were hurt.” They showed her that they understood why she had been hurt, and how their own behaviour had contributed to it.

My mentor told me that when she got into her car afterwards and drove home, she suddenly realised something. She didn’t need anything more from that person. She felt understood. And she could love them again.

I have never forgotten that story.

Why being understood matters so much

Think about the last time you were really hurt by someone close to you. Perhaps your partner said something dismissive, a family member didn’t support you when you needed them, or someone made a decision that affected you without considering your feelings.

Now imagine that person saying, “I’m sorry.” It might help. But what if they went further?

What if they said: “I realise that when you tried to tell me how difficult things were for you, I immediately started explaining why I had acted the way I did. I didn’t really listen. And I can imagine that must have left you feeling very alone, especially because you were coming to me for support.”

How different would that feel?

For many of us, it makes an enormous difference. Because we don’t only want the other person to regret what happened. We want them to understand what happened to us.

Of course, understanding does not replace accountability. Sometimes we also need an apology, changed behaviour, restored trust or clear boundaries. But genuine understanding can open a door that repeated apologies alone may not.

How we hurt each other in relationships

This is something I find particularly powerful in the work of Dr Sue Johnson, one of the developers of Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT) for couples.

Sue Johnson helps us understand that many of our most painful conflicts are not really about the practical things we argue about. They are about our emotional connection: Do I matter to you? Can I rely on you? Will you be there when I need you?

When we feel that connection is threatened, we can react in ways that make things even more difficult. One partner feels lonely and starts criticising. The other feels attacked and withdraws. The first partner feels even more abandoned and becomes louder, while the second feels increasingly inadequate and shuts down further.

Suddenly, both people are hurting. Both feel misunderstood, and both desperately want the other person to respond differently. But neither knows how to reach the other.

From a systemic perspective, I find it helpful to look at this as a cycle rather than simply asking who started the argument or who is to blame. One person’s behaviour influences the other’s response, which then reinforces the first person’s reaction. Before we know it, we’re caught in a pattern that neither of us actually wants.

Learning to see the other person again

One of the exercises I sometimes use in couples counselling is to divide a piece of paper into four squares. The idea is to slow down a difficult interaction and explore it from different perspectives.

Square 1: What happened?

Describe the situation as concretely as possible. What was said or done? What would an observer have noticed?

Square 2: What happened inside me?

What did I feel? What did I tell myself about what happened? What hurt me, and what did I need at that moment?

Square 3: What might have happened inside my partner?

What might they have felt or been afraid of? What were they perhaps trying to protect? What might they have needed? We don’t assume we know the answers. We remain curious and ask.

Square 4: What happened between us?

How did we react to each other? How did my response affect my partner, and how did their response affect me? What would help us respond differently next time?

The goal isn’t to decide whose version is correct. It’s to understand how two people can experience the same situation so differently, and how their reactions can unintentionally hurt each other.

Understanding is not the same as agreeing

I think this is particularly important. When we ask someone to understand us, we’re not necessarily asking them to agree with everything we say. And when we try to understand someone else, we’re not saying their behaviour was acceptable.

We can understand why someone became defensive without excusing hurtful words. We can understand why someone withdrew without pretending their silence didn’t hurt. We can acknowledge another person’s pain while still holding on to our own experience.

In fact, this is often what makes a real conversation possible. Two people no longer need to compete over whose pain matters more. They can begin to recognise that both experiences deserve attention.

A small exercise for couples and families

The next time you have a disagreement, try something different. Before explaining your own perspective, ask the other person: “What was that experience like for you?”

Listen, and then try to reflect back what you’ve heard: “So when I walked away during our argument, you felt alone and worried that I didn’t care. Is that right?” Ask whether you’ve understood correctly, and if you haven’t, invite them to explain more.

Only once they feel understood do you move towards your own experience.

This may sound simple, but I know from my own life and from sitting with couples and families how difficult it can be to listen when we are hurt ourselves. We want to defend ourselves, explain our intentions, or reassure the other person that we didn’t mean it that way. Sometimes we also feel ashamed of our own behaviour, which makes it even harder to stay open.

But the ability to remain present with another person’s pain, without immediately defending ourselves, can be one of the most loving things we do.

My mentor’s story reminds me of that again and again. Sometimes what changes a relationship isn’t finding the perfect words. It’s finally allowing another person to feel that we have truly understood them.

Further reading

Sue Johnson: Hold Me Tight: Seven Conversations for a Lifetime of Love.
Sue Johnson: Love Sense: The Revolutionary New Science of Romantic Relationships.