The universe would probably implode if my mother ever apologized for anything. She once over boiled the milk but spent two decades insisting I had distracted her by breathing too loudly. Classic Mum. But despite her stellar track record of not owning up to her nonsense, a part of me – that inner child still waiting for Santa – secretly clung to the hope that, one day, she might just utter the magic words: I’m sorry. Spoiler alert: I am still waiting.
You’d think by the time you hit your thirties (give or take), you’d grow out of these childish longings. Yet, they are hard to shake. My therapist – a marvellous woman with an unreasonable fondness for oversized scarves – once told me that this is entirely normal. Apparently, that lingering hope is just the inner child trying to seek love and acceptance. “You are looking for what you never received,” she said with a soft smile, “And that is okay.”
But is it? Is it really okay to wait around for something that may never come?
This is my story – and, in all likelihood, a little bit of yours too.
Why do we hold on to this hope?
They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Well, I must have been completely off my rocker because every family dinner felt like my personal version of disaster. Mum would criticize everything, from my posture to my career choices (and God forbid I ever bring a date home). Each time, I would silently think, Maybe this time will be different. Maybe she will understand. Spoiler alert number two: it never was.
The statistics say it all, don’t they? About 71% of people report experiencing emotional neglect or toxic dynamics in their upbringing, yet only 35% of them ever receive an acknowledgment or apology from their parents. And those numbers tell a grim truth. Most of us won’t get the apology we deserve. But like a puppy who keeps expecting the ball to be thrown, we keep waiting.
Let us take an anecdote from a Sunday brunch with Mum. I dared to mention I was seeing someone new. His name was Advaita, and he was kind, intelligent, and – much to her surprise – had no criminal record. My mother stared at me, lips pursed, before announcing to the table, “Well, at least someone’s desperate enough to date you.” I waited for her to laugh, or say “Just kidding!” but no. That was it. Just a conversational grenade, left to detonate at my expense.
Yet, somehow, I still hoped. Maybe next year, she’d be different? Perhaps on my birthday, she'd bake me a cake without commenting on my weight? Who was I kidding?
Also Read: What happened in your childhood wasn't your fault – You can rewrite your story
Can you heal without the apology?
Spoiler alert number three: you can. It turns out, waiting for that long-anticipated "Sorry, I was wrong" can keep you stuck in emotional limbo. It is like holding onto an empty suitcase, hoping it’ll get magically filled with everything you need for your journey. But the truth is, the weight is just unnecessary.
My therapist suggested something radical. She asked me, “What if your mother never apologizes? Can you still move on?” To say I was dumbfounded would be an understatement. Could I? Could I really let go of that need for closure and just… move forward? That idea was completely foreign and slightly terrifying.
But that is what I set out to do. Slowly, and with Advaita’s gentle encouragement (he was good at that, bless him), I began to release the expectation. We started practicing what he called "letting the wind blow" – a concept from his spiritual philosophy, which essentially meant allowing things to pass through me without getting too attached. When Mum made a nasty remark, I’d smile, mentally shrug, and think, It’s just the wind blowing through.
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Can love help heal old wounds?
By the way, Advaita was not your typical love interest. Tall, lanky, with hair that always seemed to rebel against gravity, he wasn’t the type of man who’d sweep you off your feet. Rather, he was the kind of guy who’d awkwardly help you up after you tripped over something – usually one of his books. He had this habit of quoting philosophy in the middle of the most mundane tasks. Folding laundry? “This is the duality of life, isn’t it? Chaos and order, tangled in socks.”
It was utterly charming. And annoying. But mostly charming.
Advaita had his own complex relationship with his parents, who, unlike mine, never criticized him directly. They just sort of ignored his existence, which in some ways was worse. Yet, he had learned to accept their limitations and move forward without expecting them to change. “People like us,” he once told me over a particularly terrible bottle of wine, “We are always waiting for that moment when our parents become who we need them to be. But that’s not how it works. They don’t change. We do.”
And he was right.
One night, after a particularly exasperating phone call with Mum (she had informed me that my job was “a fancy way of being unemployed”), I collapsed onto the couch, emotionally exhausted. Advaita sat beside me, legs crossed like some serene guru, and asked softly, “What would you do if your mother did apologize? Would it change anything?”
That hit me like a brick. I realised that even if my mother had a sudden epiphany and gave me the heartfelt apology I'd been waiting for, it wouldn’t magically erase years of hurt. The scars would still be there. The past couldn’t be undone.
“I guess,” I said, after a long pause, “It wouldn’t change much. But it would be nice.”
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Can letting go bring freedom?
So, what did change? Me. Over time, I learned to stop waiting for the apology that might never come. I learned to set boundaries and protect my peace. And, in the strangest twist of fate, my relationship with my mother improved – not because she changed, but because I had stopped needing her to.
There is a certain freedom that comes with letting go of expectations. It is like finally releasing a balloon into the sky after holding onto it for too long. At first, you panic, thinking, What if it flies away and I lose it forever? But then you realise that losing it might be exactly what you need.
For me, healing wasn’t about getting that perfect, tearful apology scene you see in movies. It was about accepting that some things may never happen – and that is okay. I stopped looking for validation from someone who couldn’t give it, and started finding it in myself. And yes, in Advaita, too. His philosophical musings and bizarre metaphors may have been grating at times, but they also opened my eyes to new perspectives.
What happens when you stop waiting?
Advaita once told me a story about an old Buddhist monk and his apprentice. They were walking through the forest when they came across a woman who needed help crossing a river. The monk carried her across, and they continued on their way. After hours of walking in silence, the apprentice finally blurted out, “Master, why did you carry that woman across the river? We aren’t supposed to touch women!” The monk smiled and said, “I left the woman at the riverbank, but it seems you are still carrying her.”
That’s what waiting for an apology feels like. You carry the weight of the past, waiting for someone else to relieve you of it. But they never do. The real freedom comes when you decide to set it down yourself.
I’m not going to lie – it wasn’t easy. There were (and still are) days when I catch myself wondering, What if? What if Mum suddenly realized how much her words hurt me? What if she saw me for who I really am? But those thoughts are fleeting now, like clouds passing overhead. I no longer dwell on them, and I no longer wait for her to change. That is her journey – not mine.
How do we move forward?
Where does this leave me now? Well, I am not entirely sure. I am still figuring it out, one day at a time. But I do know that healing doesn’t come from external validation or apologies that may never arrive. It comes from within – from learning to forgive yourself for waiting, and then choosing to stop.
In case you were wondering, yes, Advaita is still in the picture. We now have a cat named Descartes (his idea, obviously), and we have learned to navigate our emotional baggage together. It is not easy, but at least we have stopped waiting for someone else to do the heavy lifting.
The truth is, life is too short to wait for apologies that may never come. We can either spend our time stuck in the past, hoping for change, or we can move forward and create the peace we deserve. And for me, that is the truest form of freedom.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is it normal to hope for an apology from toxic parents?
Yes, it is very common to hope for an apology from toxic parents. Many of us long for the validation we never received. However, healing doesn’t always require it.
Can you heal without an apology?
Absolutely. While apologies can provide closure, true healing often comes from within. It is about letting go of the expectation and focusing on self-acceptance.
How can I let go of the need for an apology?
It is a process that involves setting boundaries, seeking support from loved ones or professionals, and focusing on your own growth rather than waiting for others to change.
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Bio
Tushar Mangl is the author of The Avenging Act. He writes on mental health, Vastu, and the art of living a balanced life. He advocates for a greener, better society.
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