There is one word quietly destroying more parent-child relationships than any argument, boundary, or old wound ever could. That word is but.

Tania Khazaal, family estrangement expert and founder of The Renewal Collective, has spent years studying how parents attempt to reconnect with their estranged adult children, and she sees the same pattern emerge over and over again. Parents reach out. They apologize. And then they immediately undermine everything they just said with a single conjunction. “I know I hurt you, but I was doing my best.” “I know I hurt you, but you don’t understand what I was going through.” “I know I hurt you, but you hurt me too.”

“The moment that ‘but’ arrives, the apology is over,” Khazaal explains. “Your child’s brain stops processing everything that came before it. All they hear is the justification. And the message they receive is: my excuse is bigger than your pain.”

This is not an abstract theory for Khazaal. She lived it. She was the estranged child who cut off her own mother for two years, who believed she was healing when she was actually hiding, and who eventually discovered that the path back to each other required a completely different kind of conversation.

Why “I know i hurt you, but…” makes everything worse

Khazaal is clear that parents who add justifications to apologies are not doing it out of cruelty. They do it because they cannot bear being seen as a villain. They do it because they are desperate to be understood, to provide context, to explain the circumstances that shaped their choices. That impulse is deeply human.

But it is also, in practice, deeply counterproductive.

When a parent says “I did my best,” the adult child hears: “My best was sufficient, even if it hurt you.” When a parent says “I didn’t know better,” the child hears: “I am excusing myself from accountability because I was ignorant.” When a parent says “Other parents were worse,” the child hears: “You should be grateful.”

“Every justification sounds like minimising,” Khazaal says. “Even when your intention is simply to provide context, the child experiences it as you are making excuses. And the more you explain, the more defensive they become, and the deeper the estrangement grows. Your need to be understood is actually preventing your child from feeling heard.”

The “acknowledgment without justification” formula

The framework Khazaal teaches is structured, specific, and deliberately uncomfortable for parents. It requires resisting every instinct to defend, explain, or balance the ledger.

The formula: “I acknowledge [specific pain]. I see how [specific impact]. Your feelings are valid.” And then, most critically, stop.

“The hardest part of this work is teaching parents to sit in silence after acknowledging,” Khazaal notes. “To let their child have their experience without immediately rushing in to reframe it or explain it away.”

For a short message to an estranged daughter, just a couple of sentences rather than a full letter, Khazaal recommends opening with a direct acknowledgment: “I’ve been thinking about our relationship and the pain I’ve caused you. I want you to know I hear you.” Then name something specific, something the child has actually told you about, whether it was a birthday that went uncelebrated, a moment they needed protection and didn’t receive it, or simply the feeling of always coming second. Do not explain why it happened. Simply say: “I see how that hurt you.”

Close without pressure. “I’m not asking for anything in return. I’m not asking you to forgive me right now or to respond to this. I just wanted you to know I hear you. I love you. I’m here when and when you’re ready.”

A different approach for sons

For a short message to an estranged daughter, just a couple of sentences rather than a full letter, Khazaal recommends opening with a direct acknowledgment: “I’ve been thinking about our relationship and the pain I’ve caused you. I want you to know I hear you.” Then name something specific, something the child has actually told you about, whether it was a birthday that went uncelebrated, a moment they needed protection and didn’t receive it (like what happened to me), or simply the feeling of always coming second. Do not explain why it happened. Simply say: “I see how that hurt you.”

If a son’s partner seems to be creating distance, Khazaal is direct: never say a negative word about her. Acknowledge that his family is his priority. Be the safe, stable option he can return to when he is ready.

Why this works

When acknowledgment is offered without justification, something shifts in the child’s nervous system. The fight is over. There is nothing left to defend against. The brain, no longer braced for another round of explanations, can finally begin to relax.

“Some children respond immediately,” Khazaal says. “Some take months. Some take years. Your job is not to control the timeline. Your job is simply to open the door.”

Khazaal knows this from the inside. Her own mother never delivered a textbook apology. But when Khazaal did her own internal work and began seeing her mother as a human being shaped by her own wounds, the imperfect gestures became enough. The door had never been fully closed. It only needed someone willing to stop explaining and start listening.

Tania Khazaal is a family estrangement expert and founder of The Renewal Collective, working with thousands of parents navigating estrangement through neuroscience, communication tools, and perspective-shifting frameworks. This work is personal for her: she guided her own husband, Rami Haidar of Ottawa, Canada, through reconciliation with the mother who left the country when he was fourteen, and today that same mother lives with them as a close and involved grandmother.