My mother sent a letter apologizing for any 'past wrongdoings.' Does this change anything?

This month, the advice columnist answers a question about what might happen after an apology.   

Q: I had been low contact with my parents for 25 years. After going through cancer treatment, I realized that not only is my mother emotionally-abusive, she sexually-abused me when I was a child. I've been no contact for 5 months, which has resulted in a letter in which she apologizes for "any past wrongdoings." Does this change anything or am I better off moving forward with my life?

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A: Hi friend, thank you for writing in.

First of all, I’m sending good wishes for your health. I hope the treatment has gone as smoothly as possible, and you are recovering well. 

In terms of your question here, about your mother’s letter — “does this change anything?” — I can’t give you a one-size-fits-all answer to that.

The factors that would have a big influence on my life and my relationships aren’t necessarily the same factors that would affect somebody else; even in my own life, my priorities today are very different than they were ten years ago. 

So I wonder what happens if we reframe this question, just a little bit, and ask it again:

Does this change anything for you?

That’s not rhetorical, by the way. I’d like to invite you to take some time and sit with that question for a while, explore it, turn it over. No timeline. No wrong answers.

Often, when I think about estrangement (each person’s individual story, and how those stories intersect with our broader cultures and societal worldviews), I think about the ‘scripts’ we’ve been given for what our lives are ‘supposed’ or ‘allowed’ to look like — which sometimes become the scripts we tell ourselves, as well. 

And there’s nothing inherently wrong with a script! Humans are messy and complicated and relationships are hard: Sometimes, having a nice shorthand for “Oh! Since THIS just happened, I should do THAT” is great. We don’t have to reinvent the wheel every time we write a birthday card; send flowers for a funeral; bring over a casserole when someone is in hospital. 

But these scripts can hurt us, too. 

Consider: “You have to forgive your family no matter what, because they’re your family.”

Or the Catch-22 logic of: “Well, when you were utterly miserable and staying in that situation was wrecking you, then it made sense to leave. But since you’ve left, and you’re doing better, and you’re starting to thrive — now it’s selfish for you to be embracing your happiness and well-being when other people are having a hard time, and you need to go back.” 

A script is a shorthand. It is not the whole story. And it’s also not the only story we can tell.

One trick I’ve found to make these scripts more visible in my own life — to give myself some space to really explore them, understand them, and figure out if they’re helping me live the kind of life I want to be living — is to pay special attention to those times I feel I “should” or “have to” act or respond in a certain way. 

Sometimes these are small and fairly obvious:

• I should brush my teeth after I eat, because otherwise I’ll get cavities, and I don’t want to get cavities. 

• I should text my friend to thank them for the postcard they sent me, and send them a picture of where I put it up in my room, because I want them to know how much I love it. 

Sometimes these are more in-depth:

• I should have this conversation around boundaries and expectations with someone I love … even though I’m kind of dreading it … because the alternative to ‘talking this out in advance like grown-up human beings’ is ‘trying to solve this in the moment after an issue has already come up,’ and I want to take good care of this relationship, and having this conversation is part of doing that work in a healthy way.

And sometimes, they’re clarifying:

• Oh, God, my most annoying uncle — the one who keeps pushing me to get back in contact with my family of origin and tells me “you really are doing so well; only maybe not on the empathy” — is in town, and wants to meet me for coffee. I feel like I should say yes … okay, but why, though? It’s not because I actually want to see him, or because I think I’d enjoy and value spending time with him; the last few times we tried this were unpleasant. Sure, if I say no, he might take that as evidence that I am as cold and careless about family relationships as he thinks I am. And a part of me is scared of ‘proving him right’. But a bigger part of me really doesn’t care about his good opinion. Whether or not he sees it, I know I’m a person with deep ties to my community and the family I’ve chosen; I am surrounded by so much love, and get to love and care for so many people in turn. 

(And I’d much rather spend my time tending to that love and care and community than on a begrudging coffee meetup with a painful slice of relationship-autopsy on the side).

You might have noticed, as I break down the reasons behind a few of my ‘should’ instincts, that the scripts I ultimately choose to follow are the ones that are actively rooted in something I want (whether that ‘want’ is “it’s important to me to do my part to foster a healthy relationship with somebody I love and respect,” or “I’d like to avoid going to the dentist any more than I have to”).

And if it turns out that ‘should’ instinct isn’t actually rooted in anything I want? Well, then, maybe that’s not the right script for me; I’ve got a different part to play. 

When you ask “does this change anything,” I wonder if part of what you’re working through here are some scripts about whether this letter should change things.

To which I’d ask —

Well, do you want things to change?

Do you want to get back in contact with your mother? Do you find yourself actively wanting to talk to her, to spend time with her, to have her be present in your life? Does this question feel more like an opportunity, or an obligation?

Was it important to you that she apologize to you? If so, did her apology for “any past wrongdoings” give you what you wanted to get out of that?* Do you want to discuss it with her in more depth?(*Personally, I think what she wrote is a pretty lackluster apology. I think it’s important, when apologizing, to the best of your ability, to name the specific harm(s) committed and what you plan to do to make things right for the person that you harmed, and also to make sure that you don’t do the same thing again going forward. If you’re interested in reading more about this, I’d strongly recommend the book ‘On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World.’ But — again — I am not you; what I want and need from an apology is not necessarily what you want and need, that’s a fine and normal state of the universe, and if this was exactly what you needed to hear from her, no judgment. But this isn’t the kind of apology I would find helpful, healing or resonant for me).

If you want those things — or some constellation of those things — it sounds like you can probably have them; she seems to want at least some of the same stars in that constellation.

And if that isn’t what you want, then this doesn’t have to change anything; you can keep the status quo. 

One way or another, whether this changes anything for you or not, you will be moving forward with your life from here. 

You get to decide what you want that ‘moving forward’ to look like.Take good care,Hilia