For most of my life, the part after a robplosion went like this. Blow up. Feel sick about it. Avoid the person. Wait for it to blow over. Act like nothing happened. Maybe, days later, a mumbled "sorry about the other day, I was stressed."
That was the whole method. Hope it goes away.
So if you're asking how to apologise after losing your temper, here's what I've learned, mostly by doing it wrong first. Wait until you're actually calm. Go back. Say what you did, specifically. Leave out the "but". Don't make them comfort you. Ask what they need. Then change something, so the next apology isn't a rerun of this one.
That last bit is the hard part. Let me take them one at a time.
Wait until your body has come down
I used to apologise too fast. Still worked up, heart still going, and the apology would turn into round two. "I'm sorry I yelled, but you have to understand..." and off we go again.
The NHS suggests giving yourself time to think before reacting. Same goes for apologising. Ten minutes, an hour, a walk. Long enough that you can hear the other person without getting defensive.
But don't wait for days. That's the other trap, and it was mine.
Go back, even when everything in you wants to leave
This one's personal. I've got a long habit of leaving before I can be rejected. After a blow-up, the shame and that habit team up, and the voice in my head says: they're done with you anyway, so go first. Avoid them. Disappear a little.
It feels like protecting yourself. Meanwhile the other person is left alone with what you did.
So now, when I can, I go back the same day. Even if it's just "I was out of line. I'm not ready to talk about it properly yet, and I'm coming back to it." That buys time without abandoning anyone. (More on the leaving habit in Leaving before being left.)
Say what you did, specifically
"Sorry if you were upset" is not an apology. Neither is "sorry about the other day."
Specific sounds more like: "I yelled at you in front of your friends." Or: "I slammed the door and walked out while you were still talking." It's uncomfortable to say out loud. That's sort of the point. It shows you actually know what happened, and you're not hoping they've forgotten.
Then name the effect, as best you can guess it. "That was embarrassing for you." "That probably scared you." And then stop talking for a second and let them correct you.
Leave out the "but"
Everything before "but" gets erased. "I'm sorry I yelled, but you know how I get when..." The person hears the second half.
Same goes for explanations. I have ASD. After my diagnosis I was tempted to lead every apology with it. "It was a meltdown, I was overloaded." Sometimes that was even true. But leading with it turns the apology into a defence.
What works better for me: apologise first, fully, no conditions. Later, if they want to understand what was going on, then explain. Explanation is fine. It just goes second, and only if they ask for it. I write about the meltdown side of this in Meltdown or tantrum? The adult version.
Don't make them comfort you
This one took me forever to see.
My shame is loud. So I'd apologise, and then I'd spiral. "I'm a terrible person, I don't know why you put up with me." And the person I'd just yelled at would end up reassuring me. They'd been hurt, and now they were doing the emotional work of making me feel better about hurting them.
If you're low on self-esteem, like me, watch for this. Feel the shame on your own time, or with a therapist. The apology is about them.
Ask what they need, then change something
"Is there anything you need from me right now?" And then actually listen. Maybe it's space. Maybe it's talking it through. Maybe they're not ready to forgive yet, and that's theirs to decide.
Then the real repair, which is behaviour. An apology without change is just a nicer version of the cycle. For me that meant learning the warning signs, saying "I need ten minutes" before I blow, and getting help. That's all in How I'm learning to control the outbursts.
The ones I never made
There are people from my Raincity years in Vancouver I never apologised to. Staff, colleagues, people who got a robplosion for something that didn't deserve it. Some I've lost track of. If I could, I'd tell them it wasn't about them, and that I'm sorry.
I mention it because repair doesn't have an expiry date. If there's someone you still owe one to, a short message without excuses and without asking for anything back can still mean something. Just make sure it's for them, not to make you feel lighter. And if they don't answer, that's their right.
When sorry stops being enough
This matters more than anything else in this post.
If you're apologising for the same thing over and over, the apologies stop meaning much. If the people you live with are scared of you, of your yelling, your threats, things getting broken, anything physical, that's abuse. An apology doesn't fix that. Getting help does. And managing your temper is never their job.
Sandra, my partner, has lived with the last fifteen years of this. Nothing about my anger was ever hers to carry.
If you're on the receiving end and you're afraid, in Québec call SOS violence conjugale at 1 800 363-9010, free and confidential, 24/7. In the US, the National Domestic Violence Hotline is at 1-800-799-7233. If you're the one exploding, the NHS lists acting in an abusive or violent way as a reason to see a doctor. In Québec, call 811 or book your family doctor. I also wrote Living with outbursts, and where the line is for partners.
The whole backstory is in Why I explode over small things (the robplosion).