Waiting for an Apology That Never Comes

Why healing doesn’t have to wait for someone else’s sorry

There’s a particular kind of pain that doesn’t come from the original wound, but from what never followed:

An apology.
A conversation.
A moment of acknowledgment.

So many of us live with that ache; waiting on someone else to say, “I’m sorry. I see it now. I get it. I was wrong.”

And we think: When that happens, then I’ll heal. Then I can move on.

But what if the apology never comes?

What if they don’t see it? What if they’re not capable of owning it? What if they’ve moved on, while you’re still carrying the weight of what happened?

I’ve been there. And I’ve watched people I love linger there too, holding their breath, stuck in a kind of emotional limbo, hoping someone else will finally take responsibility for the harm they caused.

So when my sister Mel and I found our way back to each other and found healing after a difficult period of conflict and pain, it wasn’t lost on me how rare that is.

What happened between us wasn’t tidy.

It wasn’t a single moment of forgiveness. It was a slow, mutual unraveling. A choosing, again and again, to not let our past define our future.

And it only worked because we both did our inner work.

In recovery, we call this a “living amends.” It’s not just an apology; but a way of showing up differently. A way of living in relation to another with intention, instead of assuming closeness will just magically return.

But here’s what’s important:

Mel didn’t owe me forgiveness. And I didn’t owe her a performance of remorse.

We each had to look at our own stuff.
Name it.
Work with it.

And decide, individually and together, that the relationship was worth rebuilding.

It was a shared effort.

And that’s what made it powerful.

But maybe what makes it universally relatable, is the common experience of knowing what it feels like when that doesn’t happen.

Because for every reconciliation story, there’s a dozen more stories where the other person never looked back. Where the harm was minimised, or denied. Where the apology never came.

So let me say this, to anyone who’s still waiting:

Your healing doesn’t need their permission.

Your peace does not have to depend on someone else’s recognition of the pain they caused.

It’s natural to want closure. But sometimes, closure isn’t something you’re given. It’s something you create.

Not by pretending nothing happened. Not by rushing to forgive.

But by recognising that you get to decide what healing looks like for you. You get to write the ending.

You get to stop waiting at a door someone else has locked.

And sometimes, if you're really lucky and both of you are willing, you’ll get the kind of reconciliation Mel and I had.

But even if you don’t?

You still get to heal.

You still get to unhook your worth from their ability to see you clearly.

You still get to make peace with the past, not because they said sorry, but because you deserve peace.

In our most recent podcast episode, Mel & I reflected on how it felt to tell our story for the first time, live on stage. And how we ended the night with a spontaneous hug.

But it wasn’t just a hug. It was the embodiment of years of work, on both our parts.

It didn’t happen overnight.
It didn’t happen without mess.
But it happened because we both chose it.

So if you’re reading this with tears in your eyes because someone never chose you in that way… let this be your reminder:

Their unwillingness doesn’t make your pain less real.

Their silence doesn’t invalidate your experience.

And your healing?

It’s still yours to claim.

Even without the sorry.

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💬 This reflection was sparked by our latest episode of The Road Back Home, where Mel and I talked about what really happened behind the scenes of our first live show.

We didn’t plan it, but a moment of real healing unfolded onstage, a kind of living amends that surprised even us.

If you haven’t heard it yet, you can listen here:

✨ Do the Work (Paid Subscribers Only)

🔒 Inside today’s paid section: When the Sorry Never Comes

If this post stirred something in you, if you’re still waiting on an apology, an acknowledgment, or even just a conversation that might never come, this section will help you reclaim your power, with tools to soothe, shift and move forward.

✔️ Release the Wait
Journaling prompts to help you name what you’re holding, grieve what never came and let go of the need for permission to heal.

✔️ Rewrite the Loop
A gentle awareness exercise to help you recognise where you’re stuck in replay mode and how to shift from rumination to resolution.

✔️ Create Closure
A meaningful mini-ritual to help you mark an internal turning point, symbolically release the grip of unfinished business and make space for peace.