Sorry: The Narcissist's Magic Word

A Simple Saturday Morning—And an Unexpected Fight

Let me take you back to a moment in my marriage—a moment that seemed so simple yet marked the beginning of something so deeply hurtful, it took years to see it clearly.

One Saturday morning, I was in the kitchen cooking, when I realized we were out of a condiment. I went to the store, returned in 15 minutes, and was ready to pick up where I left off.

But as soon as I walked through the door, there she was, arms crossed, a look of disgust on her face. In a great mood, I smiled and asked her why she was upset. That’s when she hit me with: “I can’t believe you left without telling me!”

Apologies?

If you’re anything like me, you’re probably scratching your head. To me, it was no big deal; I’d just gone to the store quickly and had my phone if she needed me. But she insisted I’d missed the point and insisted it was my “responsibility” to let her know where I was going.

So, I did what I thought was the right thing: I said sorry. Not because I meant it, but because I thought it would make things go back to normal.

The Counseling Session and "Homework"

After the argument about going to the store without telling her, we found ourselves in the counselor’s office. This wasn’t my first choice, but I went along, hoping it might bring some understanding to what felt like such a minor issue blown out of proportion.

I spoke first, explaining that I didn’t understand why my quick trip to the store, with my phone in hand, was causing such distress. Then she shared her perspective, insisting that it was “disrespectful” for me to come and go without informing her first. She wanted the counselor to help me see why I was in the wrong.

The counselor listened carefully, nodding and jotting down notes. I thought maybe he’d understand my side of things. But then he surprised me: “Tyrone, it seems like your apology was not sincere.”

He went on to say that this was a “small thing,” that all she wanted was a “small courtesy.” He suggested that all we needed to do was communicate better, for me to “just let her know” where I was going to keep the peace. Then he suggested we each apologize to move forward. It seemed simple enough to him.

But it didn’t end there. The counselor assigned us some “homework”—we were supposed to read about communication styles, planets, and love languages, so we could understand each other better.

I was told to read about being from “Mars” and her from “Venus.” I’ll admit, I read the books, but the whole time, I couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. I kept wondering, why was no one addressing her need for constant control?

Why was my independence suddenly something that needed “adjusting”? I tried to see her side, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that these were simple, everyday actions being turned into offenses.

When Sorry Becomes a Routine

Over time, this routine of apologizing for everything took over my life. It started small—first for the trip to the store, and then for other little things.

One Friday, I’d had a long week and came home early from work. I didn’t think to let her know I’d be coming home earlier than usual because, honestly, I was just tired. I was looking forward to kicking off my shoes, relaxing on the couch, and watching a game.

But as soon as I sat down, I heard her yell from the hallway, “How dare you come home without telling me?”

I laughed and tried to lighten the mood, saying, “You know I live here, right?”

But she wasn’t amused. This time, she insisted that it was “disrespectful” for me to just come home unannounced.

Just like that, we were back at square one. And soon after, we were back at the counselor’s office, talking about “communication” and “consideration.”

I felt like my world was turning upside down. All of a sudden, I needed permission for basic actions like leaving and returning home. And once again, I found myself saying sorry, even though I didn’t feel I’d done anything wrong.

The Apology for Going to Bed

The need for me to “check in” became all-encompassing. It got to the point where even going to bed required an apology if I didn’t announce it first. It didn’t matter that I went to bed at the same time every night.

If I slipped away without saying anything, she’d barge into the room, demanding to know why I hadn’t told her. “Are you mad at me?” she’d ask. I’d try to explain that I was simply tired, that it was late, and I was ready to sleep, but she always insisted I was “hiding something” or “shutting her out.”

So, like clockwork, I’d apologize and try to explain that nothing was wrong. But over time, those apologies began to feel empty, almost ridiculous. It was as if I had to apologize for every single movement. It felt like the air was thick with tension, as if I was trapped in a web I couldn’t see but could always feel.

Realizing the True Purpose of "Sorry"

Sitting in that counseling office, yet again, I’d expected the session to help us unpack what was happening below the surface. I thought it was our chance to get to the root of why these small things — me going to the store or not announcing when I went to bed — were causing such heated arguments.

Instead, the counselor seemed to address it as a minor relationship issue, staying on the surface with advice to simply "communicate more." He didn’t dive into the deeper reasons, or the possibility that her reaction might stem from insecurities or an underlying need for control. It was like he was deflecting from the bigger picture.

Unfortunately, back then this was often an experience men had in counseling. There’s a social tendency to see a man’s responsibility as “just doing whatever it takes” to keep the peace — even if it means sacrificing some independence, (happy wife, happy life).

For me, as the husband, the counselor implied it was simply a “small courtesy” to keep her updated. But for her, this expectation slowly transformed into a form of control over me. And when someone holds that power, the expectations grow quietly and relentlessly.

Then there was the effect of her emotional manipulation. Narcissists often come across as incredibly logical, convincing, even vulnerable when they’re working toward their goal. In that session, she seemed like a reasonable person simply expressing her need to feel informed and connected.

She played the role of the “hurt partner” perfectly, framing my actions as offenses that disrupted her security. This made it easy for the counselor to buy into her version of events. He saw me as the one needing to make amends, and her as a victim of my “thoughtless behavior.”

By framing herself as the one needing “protection” from my actions, she was able to manipulate the narrative and the counselor. It created a kind of emotional smoke screen, one that kept him focused on my alleged lack of respect, rather than on why she felt this need to control.

The result? He stayed at the surface of the issue, treating it as a minor “communication problem.” I left the session feeling obligated to comply with her demands — demands that, over time, became less about consideration and more about surveillance. And as I’d come to learn, every “sorry” only tightened the leash.

Breaking Free: Apologies That Matter

It took me years to realize that “sorry” was never really about repairing the relationship. It was about keeping me in line, teaching me that I had to check in constantly, making sure she always knew where I was. Eventually, I wasn’t just saying sorry for leaving the house. I was saying sorry for my existence. I was saying sorry for being me.

I faced a choice: stay in the marriage, bound by rules, control, and the need to keep up appearances, or choose my sanity. I chose myself.

Today, I don’t say “sorry” in that way anymore. I’ve learned that genuine apologies come from the heart, for things that truly matter. They aren’t bargaining chips or tools of control. They’re expressions of care, meant to heal and move forward together. I’ve also learned that trust—real trust—is built on understanding and respect, not on constant apologies or micromanagement.

Finding Freedom: Reclaiming Myself

If you find yourself in a relationship where “sorry” feels like a command, a punishment, or a way to keep you small, I hope you know that you deserve better. You deserve a relationship where apologies are rare and meaningful, not something that keeps you trapped in a cycle of shame.

letstalk@tiffanyandtyrone.com