My son can do things I’ve told him not to do, over and over again. Once in a while, it’ll have me fuming and he’ll know he’s pushed it too far. “Sorry,” he then says. “Sorry mama.” And I tell him that it’s all right. His dark sides are safe with me, I won’t deny him nor expose him.
I always tell him though: “you wouldn’t have to say sorry if you simply didn’t do it. And if you do it too often, your sorry will feel meaningless.”
But it’s never that simple in life is it? We keep repeating the wrongs we shouldn’t be repeating. And we keep saying sorry for them. There’s one thing I should add: The sorry may start feeling meaningless to that person, but it’s not.