I'm Sorry You Feel That Way
I had a best friend—we’ll call her Jane.
For over 30 years, she was my sister, my chosen family. I’m an only child, so our friendship meant everything to me. We traveled together, laughed until we cried, held each other through breakups, celebrated each other’s wins. Some of the best moments of my life had her in them.
But there was always something underneath. A quiet imbalance.
Jane had been through unimaginable traumas before we met. Pain that no little girl should have to endure. And because of that, her suffering was always just a little more important than mine. A little heavier. A little more real.
If I was struggling, it was nothing compared to what she had been through.
If she hurt me, I just had to understand that she didn’t mean it.
If I brought up something she’d done to upset me, she’d respond with:
💬 "I'm sorry you feel that way," or something else, equally as dismissive.
Not I'm sorry I hurt you. Not I see what I did wrong. Just a vague, passive non-apology that put the burden back on me.
And for more than 30 years, I accepted it
But here’s the part that’s mine to own: I let it happen.
I told myself I was being compassionate, but in reality, I was abandoning myself. I was the one who put her pain above my own. I was the one who made endless allowances, who let things slide, who played the role of the understanding friend at the cost of my own well-being.
That wasn’t kindness. It was martyrdom.
For decades, I operated under the belief that because she had been through so much, I had to be the bigger person.
Because we all knew how Jane was.
Because I could handle it.
Because someone had to be stable.
But the thing about boundaries is this: They don’t just protect you from others. They protect you from yourself.
From the part of you that over-gives.
From the part of you that tolerates things you shouldn’t.
From the part of you that doesn’t want to accept that a relationship isn’t in in alignment.
Last April, I ended our friendship.
Not because she was a villain. Not because I was a victim. But because our dynamic was broken, and neither of us had the tools to fix it.
Because I finally had the clarity to see my own role in it.
💔 Sometimes, protecting your peace means letting go of people you never thought you'd lose.
💡 Sometimes, boundaries aren’t about changing others—they’re about refusing to abandon yourself.
How This Shows Up for You
Ever heard this one before?
💬 "I'm sorry you feel that way."
It sounds polite, but let’s be real—it’s often a subtle way to dismiss your feelings. Instead of acknowledging the impact of an action, it shifts responsibility back onto the person who’s hurt.
✨ If you’ve ever walked away from a conversation second-guessing yourself or feeling like your emotions were "too much," this might be why.
💡 Instead of using (or accepting) this phrase, try:
✅ “I hear you. Let’s talk about it.”
✅ “I didn’t mean for that to happen, but I can see how it impacted you.”
✅ “Can we work through this together?”
Because boundaries aren’t just about saying no. They’re about choosing interactions that respect your energy and emotions.
And if you’re ready to explore what’s been holding you back from truly honoring your boundaries, I’d love for you to join me on March 31st for a live workshop:
EMPOWERED ENERGETIC BOUNDARIES
We’ll talk about recognizing subtle (and not-so-subtle) boundary violations, how to stand in your worth without guilt, and how to communicate without over-explaining or justifying your feelings.
Because real peace doesn’t come from being the bigger person—it comes from being true to yourself.
With love,
Neelou