Apologies & Forgiveness

"Let yourself find peace with the apology that's never coming."

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Forgive? Sounds good
Forget? I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting

Not Ready To Make Nice, The Chicks

As always, when I write about friendships that have changed or ended, I hear from so many of you—most often in private. Your emails, comments, and DMs come with stories of confusion and sadness, of long-term friends who faded away or abruptly disappeared, of once-close connections now frayed by silence. Some of you are still waiting for an apology. Others have given up hope of ever getting one.

Last week's post was about a dear friend moving across the country. That kind of change is painful but understandable. Life pulls us in different directions. But what so many of you wrote to me about were the friendships that ended with no warning, no explanation, no closure.

The slow drift apart.
The sudden silence.
The unexpected betrayal.

Even when there was a conversation—an argument, a misunderstanding—it often wasn’t enough to make sense of the rupture. Instead, it exposed things that had been bubbling under the surface: resentment, jealousy, long-held slights we didn’t know were still there.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness, especially the kind we’re asked to give without ever hearing “I’m sorry.” The kind that doesn't come with clarity, or validation, or even acknowledgment. Just a heavy, aching silence.

Forgiveness may sound good. But let’s be honest: it’s not always something we feel ready to do.

Easy to Say. Hard to Do.

We talk about forgiveness as if it’s a single act, a moment of grace, a one-and-done decision. But real forgiveness—especially in middle age, especially when the hurt runs deep—can be more like a practice. A slow, reluctant loosening. A decision you have to keep making. Again and again.

Sometimes you forgive, and then the anger comes back. The sadness sneaks in. The bitterness resurfaces. And you have to try again.

That’s okay. That’s human.

It’s funny how the universe (or Google!) seems to listen in when you’re mulling something over. You say one thing and suddenly your social media is flooded with ads. Case in point: I got my haircut last week, and my stylist suggested I start blow-drying instead of letting it air dry. After years of going natural, my curls have vanished. She gave me a short list of tools to consider. Suddenly, my feed is nothing but diffusers and blow dryers. Coincidence? I think not.

The same thing is happening this week. As I sat with your stories—and my own history of ended friendships—quotes, books, and interviews about forgiveness started appearing everywhere I turned. One line in particular stopped me cold:

“Let yourself find peace with the apology that’s never coming.”

Whew. That one hit hard.

Because if we wait for every wound to be acknowledged, every misunderstanding to be explained, or every offense to be met with remorse... we might be waiting forever.

So How Do We Forgive Someone Who’s Not Sorry?

Here are a few things that have helped me (and others I’ve spoken to) begin to let go:

• Separate forgiveness from reconciliation.
  Forgiveness doesn't mean letting someone back into your life. It simply means you no longer want to carry the burden of the pain.

• Write it out—even if you never send it.
  Letters you don’t send can be powerful. Say what you need to say. Be messy. Be angry. Be honest. Then burn it, bury it, or reread it until it softens. (Honestly, I often “speak” it out. I talk out loud in the car...or at my bathroom mirror…and say what needs to be said. With all the emotion and passion I am feeling.)

• Try to see them as flawed, not evil.
  This doesn’t excuse the hurt. But it helps shift your energy from “why would they do this?” to “they’re human, and they acted from their own pain.” That small reframing can open a crack in the wall.

• Forgive in layers.
  You might forgive the person for what they did long before you can forgive them for how they made you feel. That’s okay. Let the process be slow.

• Protect your peace.
  Sometimes forgiveness is just the act of no longer letting them live rent-free in your head. You stop replaying the conversation. You stop trying to win a battle that’s already over. (This is the hardest one for me. Boy, can I hold a grudge!!)

None of this is easy. It’s not linear. And it’s not always successful. But even the desire to forgive is a kind of beginning.

Photo by Adalia Botha on Unsplash

Middle Age Changes the Equation

As I get older, I don’t have the energy to “dislike” someone. I don’t want to sit in judgment over who’s right and who’s wrong. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of people who ghosted me, or said something hurtful, or made choices I didn’t understand.

I’ve started asking:

• Is this a relationship I truly want to repair?

• Can I forgive someone even if I don’t want them back in my life?

• Can I wish them well... from a distance?

Someone on YouTube shared a quote that’s still echoing in my head:

“We have a tendency to want the other person to be a finished product while we give ourselves the grace to evolve.”
—T.D. Jakes

How true is that? We want others to show up perfect—mature, thoughtful, emotionally evolved—while we excuse our own mistakes as “a work in progress.” What would happen if we extended the same grace to them?

That doesn’t mean keeping toxic people in your life. As Nora Ephron famously said, the secret to happiness in middle age is this:

“Gather friends and feed them, laugh in the face of calamity, and cut out all the things—people, jobs, body parts—that no longer serve you.”

But before we cut someone out for good, maybe we try to release the bitterness. Not for them—but for ourselves. So we don’t carry the weight of resentment into the next chapter. So we can free up that space inside us for something better—something lighter.

Even if we’re not quite ready to forgive… yet.

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"Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different."
—Oprah Winfrey

Postscript
Have you learned to forgive someone who never apologized?
Are you still waiting for peace to catch up with time?
What helped you let go—or what’s still holding you back?
Feel free to share in the comments—or send me a message. I always read them.

Have a good week.

Much love!

Thanks for stopping by Leaving Middle Age! If you found this interesting, please share it with friends, family, or anyone who’d appreciate the journey.