The summer before my freshman year was a contentious time for my mother and me. We had been butting heads with increasing frequency as we both prepared mentally for my heading off to college, the first time I'd be spending more than a few weeks away from home. I think it was a toxic blend of separation anxiety and, ironically, just having had enough of living under the same roof that had us sparring so much. Or maybe it was my arrogant intransigence clashing with her irrational arbitrariness. But whatever it was, there was a lot of tension and plenty of circumstances where an apology would have been appropriate, if not completely necessary. Unfortunately, apologies were not my forte. I had a very hard time swallowing my foolish pride and expressing regret for my actions, however out of line they may have been.Prospects of reconciliation appeared grim, but then, in late July, my matriarch found an article in Parade magazine, and asked me to read it. Just looking at the title made me roll my eyes: "The Power of an Apology." I approached it very skeptically, and initially, I scoffed at the entire piece, dismissing it outright. I went back a bit later, however, reread it, and began to understand where the author (Dr. Rosamund Stone Zander, a psychologist) was coming from.

Some apologies are easy. For example, when a writer postpones his column for several weeks due to writer's block and perfectionism, trying the patience of his eternally gracious section editor, it is clear who is in the wrong, and the appropriate course of action is obvious. Sorry, Evan.

But then there are murkier situations, where the fault is not so clear-cut, and neither party feels at fault. For situations like that, I refer to the most important point I was able to glean from the article: An apology need not be a mea culpa.

It seems like a pretty simple concept, and it is: You don't have to admit to being wrong to say you're sorry. But when actually applied to a real-life situation, it becomes infinitely more difficult to remember and utilize. But it can help with making the apology. Swallowing your pride and saying you are sorry can be very humbling, especially when you feel you are in the right. "Being the bigger person" can seem trite and unjustifiable, but you don't have to say you were wrong. An apology like that says not, "I admit defeat; you were right all along," but instead, "I'm sorry this rift has formed between us, and want to close it." This often leads to reciprocation, and will quickly restore civility and congeniality to a relationship.

One sure way to ruin an apology is to qualify it. As soon as you attach a "but..." to it, you may as well not have said anything at all. The message a qualified apology sends is, "you're still wrong, but because I'm a better person, I'm going to placate you and get this over with." If you don't feel sorry yet, that's fine. But don't try apologizing before you are ready. Not only will that not ease the tension, it is likely to increase it. And beware: once a disingenuous apology is put forward, any future legitimate attempts will be greeted with skepticism, and resolving the situation will be harder.

Of course, there's another edge to this sword. Hopefully, at some point, someone is going to apologize to you for something. Once this occurs, the ball is in your court. If the apology is genuine, the other party is extending an olive branch, and the onus is on you to accept it. Do not gloat; do not say "I told you so." Just be thankful that the other person saw past the anger or jealousy or resentment and remembered that in the long run, the relationship is all that really matters.

Apologizing is a wonderful reparative tool, but as with anything else, overuse can sap their efficacy. Make sure that there is a problem before trying to remedy it. If you are uncertain, don't hesitate to ask if you suspect you may have angered or offended someone. If you have, then by all means, apologize. But the danger inherent in becoming "sorry-happy" and expressing contrition left and right is that you may lose your credibility. If people suspect that you are one to shoot out perfunctory apologies, when the time comes to offer up a genuine one, it may be cast aside as insincere.

Part of the reason that I took so long to write this column was that I felt hypocritical spouting advice that I myself sometimes have trouble following. In contentious situations, much of what I have written here often flies right out of my head, leaving me flailing and seething. But eventually I came to realize that when I am able to remember what I've learned, it really does help me put things in perspective. I hope it can for you as well.

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it. And to anyone who feels I owe them an apology, I'm sorry. I mean it.