The Art of Real Relational Repair: How strong leaders and good humans heal relationships, and rebuild trust after doing harm
Let’s just tell the truth here: even the best among us hurt the people we care about.
You lose your temper. You shut down. You snap or stonewall or disappear. Sometimes you even say cruel, intentionally hurtful things—likely out of being hurt yourself and lashing out. Or perhaps worse, maybe you say nothing at all when it really counts.
At work, you might make a call to protect the bottom line but fracture a relationship in the process. At home, perhaps you steamroll someone you love out of impatience, talking over them or declaring what their intention was (not your job) only to watch their eyes dim and their guard go up.
And then you feel it—that awful, private recoil.
God. That was me.
Some people get stuck there. In the spin cycle. Defend. Justify. Apologize. Deny. Repeat.
Others pretend nothing happened. (It’s safer that way. Until it’s not.)
But the people I trust—the humans I admire—do something rare.
They repair.
Rupture Isn’t the Problem. Avoiding Repair Is.
Look, relational rupture is inevitable. The real threat to trust isn’t the rupture—it’s what happens next.
Strong relationships aren’t built on conflict avoidance. They’re built on brave, clean reconnection. On someone saying, “That landed badly. Let me own my part.” Whether you’re a founder with a strained co-founder dynamic or a father trying to undo damage with a kid who doesn’t look you in the eye anymore—it’s the same work.
It’s uncomfortable, and it is courageous. And it is the pathway to real true joy and connection.
Knowing when repair is truly complete is tricky. I have found this guideline incredibly useful.
The 5 R’s of Real Relational Repair.
Let me walk you through them:
1. Recognition – What actually happened?
There’s a CEO I coached—we’ll call him David. Quick-witted, high-performing, and beloved by his board. But in one high-stakes meeting, he cut off a junior VP with a sarcastic jab. The whole room flinched. The VP left early. And the next day, David asked me, “Was I really that harsh?”
Yeah. He was.
Recognition is the first hinge point. It’s the difference between being defensive and being dangerous. It means you stop minimizing, stop rationalizing, and look straight at the moment.
Not what you meant—what actually happened. This is the hardest work for most people.
David’s first line of defense was to think his VP should have known that he didn’t mean anything by it. That defense leads nowhere good, however. It’s not really ever about how “they should have known”—but how they experienced you. Whether you think they should have experienced you that way or not is irrelevant.
David had to see: for his VP this wasn’t just a poor joke. It was a public dismissal that shut him down and broke trust in the room.
No recognition? No repair. Full stop.
2. Responsibility—What am I willing to own?
Recognition without ownership is actually useless.
Another client—Tasha—snapped at her partner during dinner with friends. Humiliated him with a fast, sharp put-down. Not the first time. “I don’t know why I do it,” she told me. “It’s like something takes over.”
But here’s what changed everything: she stopped hiding behind the story and said to herself, ‘That was me. I did that. I hate that I did it. And I own it.’ To her partner she said, “I really get that I did that. It was disloyal and unkind, and I see that.”
Responsibility doesn’t require perfection. It requires presence. And the willingness to take full accountability for the impact, not just the intention.
It’s not “I’m sorry if you felt that way.”
It’s “I did that. I see what it cost. And I’m not dodging it.”
3. Remorse—Can I feel the cost?
Not performative guilt. Not shame.
Remorse is clean. Empathic. It’s the gut-punch moment when you really feel what it was like on the other side of you. If you dive into shame, you are making the moment about you. When you stay in presence and empathy, you are giving the person you care about the grace of your attention—on them.
When David called that VP in to talk, he started with, “I owe you an apology.” But that wasn’t the repair moment. The real moment was when he said:
“I saw your face when I joked—and I realized I shut you down in front of people you respect. That’s not how I want to lead. You mattered more than my performance in that moment.”
Remorse makes you reachable. It says, “I care about more than being right.” I care about what it felt like to be you in the room with me.
And for the record? If you can’t feel remorse, you’ll repeat the pattern. Full stop.
4. Repair—What action makes it better?
An apology is not a repair.
Tasha did say she was sorry. But the real repair happened the next day—when she circled back and said, “I want to know what that moment felt like for you. And I want you to know what I’m working on. Because this isn’t who I want to be in our relationship.”
Repair is visible. It’s behavioral. It’s not words—it’s action.
That might look like reinstating someone’s authority after you undercut them.
It might look like walking something back publicly.
It might mean following through on a promise you dropped.
It might mean doing the work that proves the apology meant something.
If they can’t see the change, the words won’t land.
Tasha’s words inviting her partner to share his experience and to share her commitment were the beginning. The real magic happened when she listened. She listened to him deeply, attentively, and without defense, excuse, or explanation. The purpose was for him to feel heard, seen, and understood. Deeply.
5. Recommitment—What standard do I live by now?
This is where you stop just fixing what broke—and you decide what you stand for.
David didn’t just smooth things over. He invited that VP to lead a new initiative—and publicly acknowledged her contribution. He made space. He changed behavior. And the rest of the team took note.
Tasha made a private commitment: no more jokes at her partner’s expense, even if it bought her a quick laugh. She started working with a coach. Not because she was broken. Because she wanted to lead her life better.
That’s recommitment. Not a promise. Not a performance.
Just a quiet line drawn in the sand that says, “I’ve chosen who I am now.”
It’s worth noting that a human being who repeats the same patterns may be struggling with trauma or old wounds that have not been addressed. This is not an excuse to continue the same cycles. However, it may indicate that a committed focus on healing to create lasting behavioral change is required in order to live in integrity with your commitments. This may sound scary. I’ve done it. It’s work. But really, here’s the question: What’s more scary? Leaving emotional wreckage behind you in your relationships? Or loving yourself enough to give yourself the gift of emotional and relational health? You may find this article on understanding the root causes of upset a great place to start. THE ROOTS OF UPSET
Let’s Wrap This Reel.
Anyone can say they’re sorry.
That’s not the game.
The game is
When you hurt someone, do you recognize it?
Do you take full responsibility?
Can you actually feel what it cost them?
Do you act in a way that shows you mean it?
And do you choose a new, reliable way of being from there?
Real repair is the work of grown-ass adults.
It’s what separates good intentions from trustworthy leadership.
And it’s the only way trust becomes stronger than before.
If you’re brave enough to ask:
“What part of this am I willing to own?”
…then you’re already leading.
