Most people leave the monkey bars behind with childhood. Yet hanging from a bar—right-side up, don’t worry—may be one youthful habit worth picking back up, especially if you spend your days hunched over your desk and phone. (Guilty.)

“We look at kids on a playground—what are they doing?” says Australian physiotherapist Daniel Vadnal, owner of FitnessFAQs, who posts instructive videos on Instagram and YouTube. “They don’t need to be told to hang. They just intuitively do it.”

A few years ago, Vadnal persuaded his grandmother, now 93, to try a supported hang. That means gripping a bar overhead with straight arms but keeping your feet planted on the floor, rather than dangling your entire body weight. She was skeptical: She hadn’t even raised her arms fully overhead since she was a kid. But after just 30 seconds, she felt taller and looser—and found it easier to reach her kitchen cabinets.

Here’s what hanging can do for your body, how to keep your feet planted while you build strength, and why just 30 seconds is long enough. 

It gives your upper body a stretch

At its simplest, hanging means gripping a secure overhead pull-up bar—the kind that can be installed in a doorway—with straight arms while supporting some or all of your body weight. You remain right-side up: Your hands are above your head, and your feet point toward the floor or remain planted on it. Hanging upside down, known as inversion, is an entirely different exercise. “It’s fairly simple, but it’s not easy,” says Hazel Anderson, a physical therapist and faculty member at the University of St. Augustine for Health Sciences in Austin.

Whether your feet stay planted for support or lift off the floor, there are two ways to position your upper body. “The passive hang is, as the name suggests, just relaxed,” Vadnal says. “You’re letting nature, gravity, your body do whatever it wants.” Your shoulders move toward your ears, creating a stretch through the shoulders, arms, and trunk.

An active hang requires more effort. “You want to think of trying to bring your shoulder blades down away from your ears,” Vadnal says. That engages the muscles around the shoulders and back, creating more stability. Your elbows remain straight—and your feet can remain planted or off the floor—in either type of hang.

Vadnal considers passive and active hangs opposite ends of a spectrum. A passive hang still requires enough muscle effort to remain safely attached to the bar; an active one involves “really making a concerted effort” to hold yourself in position. He recommends choosing the amount of engagement that feels most comfortable for your body.

Reaching overhead may feel especially satisfying after all those hours slumped over your desk. Hanging “stretches all the tight muscles that we tend to have through the pecs, through the triceps on the back of the arms, as well as the lats,” Vadnal says. You’ll likely find it leaves you feeling a little taller—and less scrunched up through the shoulders.

That doesn’t mean 30 seconds on a bar will permanently correct your posture or treat back or shoulder pain; those claims haven’t been established in strong clinical trials. But hanging moves your upper body into a position it might not visit very often, which helps explain why people often step down feeling looser.

It makes your grip work

A hang might look passive, but your hands and forearms are busy keeping you attached to the bar. “First and foremost, it supports grip endurance,” Anderson says. “It’s helping with grip strength, but more with the endurance of being able to hold on to the bar.”

That endurance is useful for everything from carrying groceries to working toward a pull-up. “The hands, fingers, and forearms serve as a link to our back,” Vadnal says. Strengthening that link helps prepare you to support—and eventually pull—your body weight.

Research on short, recreational hangs is limited, and most studies involve climbers. In a small 2026 study, 11 climbers hung on until their grip gave out. As they got tired, their shoulders and other upper-body muscles increasingly pitched in to keep them on the bar.

Another randomized trial found that when experienced climbers hung by their fingers for eight weeks, with progressively more weight attached to the body, some measures of grip strength improved. The study involved extra weight and a climbing hold—not beginners attempting a relaxed 30-second hang—but it supports the idea that regularly asking your hands to hold you up can make them better at the job.

Grip strength is also widely used as a marker of overall health. “We do know that grip strength is correlated with longevity,” Vadnal says. In a study of nearly 140,000 adults across 17 countries, weaker grip was associated with a higher risk of death and cardiovascular disease.

That doesn’t mean hanging longer will make you live longer, Vadnal adds. Think of it as one useful signal—not a path to immortality.

Your feet can stay on the floor

Beginners don’t need to hover heroically above the ground. When you’re starting out, the bar is—quite literally—low. “I love the addition of a little step stool or platform,” Anderson says. Hold the bar with both hands, bend your knees slightly, and keep enough weight in your feet that the stretch feels manageable. You can gradually allow your arms to support more of you as you become comfortable.

“You definitely don’t need to jump straight to 30-second hangs all at once,” Anderson says. She recommends starting with a 10-second supported hang and repeating it three to five times, resting briefly between attempts. From there, work toward the 30-second goal. Vadnal likes three 30-second sets, but only after choosing a variation easy enough to complete with control.

Begin with your hands about shoulder-width apart. “That’s most comfortable for pretty much everyone,” Vadnal says, though you can move your hands wider or narrower based on what feels best. Wrap your thumbs underneath the bar to make your grip more secure.

If the typical overhand position bothers your shoulders, try a neutral grip, with your palms facing each other. Many gyms have parallel handles that allow for it, and gymnastics rings will rotate to accommodate your joints. Vadnal calls it “probably the most friendly position for the shoulders.”

Decide whether a passive or slightly more active hang feels better, and don’t worry about matching someone else’s position. Forcing your shoulders farther overhead than they can comfortably go may leave them sore or irritated, Vadnal says. Let your range of motion improve gradually instead.

Most importantly, remember to breathe. Anderson advises using “slow, controlled breaths” and making sure you’re not holding your air in, whether you’re a beginner or an expert. It’s easy to get so focused on staying on the bar that your whole body clenches up; a few steady breaths can help you relax into the hang.

“Don’t chase the clock,” Anderson says. If your form changes or you can no longer control the hang, put your feet down, rest, and try again.

Know when to let go

Hanging should feel like work—not like you’re about to injure yourself. “We should feel a stretching sensation; we should feel fatigued,” Vadnal says. “We shouldn’t feel pain.” Put your feet down if you experience sharp or persistent pain, numbness, tingling, or weakness.

Those symptoms are signs to stop, not to push through. Talk to a doctor or a physical therapist before trying again. Some people should seek guidance before they ever reach for the bar: Anderson recommends medical clearance for anyone who recently had shoulder surgery or an injury involving the neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, or trunk. The same applies to people with shoulder instability, pain when reaching overhead, cardiovascular concerns, or uncontrolled high blood pressure. 

Osteoporosis doesn’t automatically make hanging off-limits. But because a fall could have more serious consequences, Anderson says, it’s particularly important to keep your feet supported and get personalized guidance.

Anderson recommends practicing two or three times a week on nonconsecutive days, which allows the muscles to recover. There’s no need to progress from zero hanging to auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. Add time or body weight gradually, and take a day off if your hands, forearms, or shoulders remain unusually sore.

If you like hanging, Vadnal suggests keeping a bar somewhere you’ll regularly see it, like in your laundry room. “It’s like daily hygiene,” he says. “You brush your teeth; hanging is a good thing, too.”

Your therapist has probably encouraged you to have difficult conversations, advocate for your needs, and resist the urge to avoid things that make you anxious. That’s all well and good—until, one day, the difficult conversation is with them.

If therapy doesn’t feel useful anymore, or if you’ve realized that you and your therapist simply aren’t the right match, it can be tempting to outsource the breakup to the cancel-appointment button. Yet unless there’s an ethical, boundary, or safety concern, experts say it’s usually worth having a conversation with your therapist before ending the relationship. It might improve the therapy. It might also help you find someone better suited to you, or simply allow you to leave without feeling guilty about ghosting the person who knows exactly why you tend to ghost people.

Speaking up could also save you from having to begin the search from scratch. “Your therapist could be the gateway to your next great therapist,” says Ryan Culkin, a licensed professional counselor and chief counselor officer at Thriveworks, which provides therapy and psychiatry services. They might be able to adjust their approach—or recommend someone who would suit you better.

Even if you already know you’re finished, breaking the news doesn’t require a dramatic confrontation or an elaborate defense. Here’s how to decide whether it’s time to call it quits—and how to do it painlessly.

Figure out what kind of discomfort you’re feeling

Good therapy isn’t necessarily easy. “Sometimes therapy can be really uncomfortable, but it can be incredibly productive,” says Eli Kraiem, a clinical psychologist in New York. A therapist might challenge an assumption you’re attached to, point out a pattern you’d rather not see, or encourage you to do something that scares you. Feeling unsettled after a session doesn’t mean it went badly.

Michael G. Wetter, a clinical psychologist in Los Angeles, prefers this question: “What is the discomfort accomplishing?” Productive discomfort generally leads to insight, reflection, behavioral change, or progress toward goals you and your therapist have agreed on, he says. If it’s a poor fit, you might notice you leave therapy feeling misunderstood or have the same conversation week after week without much meaningful movement.

Juliann Siwicki, a licensed clinical professional counselor in Vero Beach, Fla., thinks about it this way: “Are you uncomfortable because you’re talking about something hard? Or because you feel like you’re having coffee with someone and not getting help? Those are two different things.”

You should be able to name what you're working toward—a pattern you're trying to break, a decision you're stuck on, a reaction you'd like to change—and to notice how much airtime your therapist is taking up. "A therapist can share something about themselves if it helps the client," Siwicki says. "It becomes too much when the client is spending the session listening to the therapist's stories, or feels like they need to take care of the therapist."

Kamran Eshtehardi, a clinical psychologist in Pasadena, Calif., has heard the far end of that spectrum. One client described a previous therapist who "thought it would be helpful to tell me about when they cheated on their wife"—including that his wife left him, and that he later saw an escort. "And I'm like, ‘What? Like, a therapist told you?’" Eshtehardi says. "Those are major red flags."

What was once a good fit can also change over time. A therapist who helped you through a crisis might not be right for your next stage. "A great therapist might not be great for you," Culkin says. "It's kind of like dating—you're not going to get it right the first time every time."

Even finding that “the therapist gets on your nerves” doesn’t necessarily mean you should quit, says Eshtehardi. A rupture doesn’t mean the therapy has “rotted on the vine,” he says, and progress sometimes develops “underneath the surface” before reaching a tipping point. But if you’ve explained what you need and nothing changes—or there’s no sense of progress—your frustration deserves attention.

Serious boundary violations, unethical behavior, or anything that makes you feel unsafe are different. You don’t need to attempt a repair before leaving, nor do you owe the therapist another session.

Say what isn’t working

If you’re open to continuing with your therapist, with the appropriate changes, describe what you’ve noticed and need—without turning the conversation into a performance review.

Try: “Our sessions have started to feel conversational, and I need more structure, feedback, and therapeutic insight. Can we talk about that?” Or: “I’m not sure what I’m working toward. Could we revisit my goals?” Culkin suggests language as straightforward as: “That didn’t land with me,” “I want to try something different,” or “I really liked when you did this.”

Eshtehardi recalls a client telling him that the usual sympathetic responses—“I’m so sorry to hear that” or “That must have been so hard”—didn’t work for them. “I just want to get stuff on the table and say, ‘OK, what’s going on here? How do we work with this?’” the client told him. That feedback helped Eshtehardi calibrate his approach. “I’m not saying it’s necessarily the client’s job to help train the therapist,” he says, but clients can explain what they’re looking for and how they prefer to work.

If you know you’re ready to leave 

Sometimes you’re not interested in recalibrating the relationship—you’ve already decided to end it. In that case, the goal isn’t to persuade your therapist that you have a good enough reason to go. It’s simply to communicate your decision in whatever way feels most manageable. 

You don’t have to deliver the news face-to-face. A call, email, or text is fine: “I don’t want therapy and the therapeutic relationship to be another source of anxiety for my clients,” Eshtehardi says. For someone accustomed to conflict or pushback, sending “I’m sorry, this isn’t working for me” and receiving a calm response can itself be therapeutic. You might realize, he says, that “maybe there’s a way to connect with people that doesn’t feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing.”

Eshtehardi also encourages clients who feel guilty to view the conversation as an opportunity to “practice trusting that someone else is going to be OK,” and trusting themselves to make the right decision. Your therapist’s response will provide useful information. A therapist who responds with openness and a willingness to adjust is giving you one kind of information; defensiveness or guilt-tripping gives you another. If the therapist acts wounded, Eshtehardi thinks of it as a “double whammy.” It might hurt, but it also “confirms that you’ve made the correct decision to stop therapy.”

You don’t need to build a case for your decision. “When it comes to trying to find the right fit, I don’t think clients should have to worry about having to justify their perspective,” Eshtehardi says. He suggests keeping the message simple: “I don’t think it’s the right fit. I’d like to stop sessions, and I really appreciate your time. Thank you.”

And try not to assume you’ve devastated them. Therapists are trained to handle patients leaving, Kraiem says. If yours can’t tolerate it, “then there’s a problem with the therapist, not with the patients.”

Make the transition easier on yourself

If you need consistent support, try to line up a new therapist before leaving your current one. Ask your therapist if they can recommend someone with a different style or specialty.

Before booking, confirm the new therapist accepts your insurance. “There’s nothing worse than getting through that first session” only to discover they don’t, Culkin says. You can also ask how they structure sessions, establish goals, and respond when a client disagrees. Be candid about what helped the first time around, what didn’t, and what’s important to you this time. Culkin encourages therapists to ask what clients appreciated about past providers and what they wish had been different. “Those are gold answers,” he says.

It’s not mandatory, but Kraiem recommends a wrap-up session, if you’re comfortable: “Let’s have one session to reflect on the experiences, process how you’ve improved, how you’ve grown through therapy, and maybe areas that still need improvement,” he says. 

Ask the practices about transferring relevant records. You’ll typically sign an authorization specifying what can be shared. Whether you want a direct handoff depends on why you’re leaving, Eshtehardi says. If you felt misunderstood, the former therapist’s perspective could “muddy the waters,” and you might prefer a clean start. If your therapist is referring you to someone with more specialized expertise, a conversation could help them get up to speed more quickly. In that case, Eshtehardi tells clients, “I’ll tell you everything I tell them so you know what they know.”

Finally, cancel future appointments and settle outstanding balances or other loose ends. Eshtehardi suggests asking: “Are there any last things we need to do?” If medication is part of your care, coordinate with your prescribing clinician about refills.

Changing therapists isn’t proof that treatment failed. Sometimes successful therapy means repairing a strained relationship. Other times, it means recognizing that the relationship has run its course—and using the difficult-conversation skills you’ve practiced to say so.

At one of their first dinners together, Lindsey Hall watched the man she was dating take enormous bites, talk with his mouth full, and—horror of horrors—burp loudly without seeming to register it. The evening was supposed to feel romantic. Instead, Hall remembers thinking: “Have I made a mistake?”

She tried to dismiss his behavior as a minor incompatibility. But it continued, meal after meal, and gradually soured her feelings and attraction toward him. Table manners had never seemed like a priority until then. “I didn’t realize how important it was to me until I dated someone who just … doesn’t have it,” Hall says.

Terrible table manners might sound like a trivial complaint. But eating is one of the most routine things we do with other people, and a habit that inspires disgust three times a day can quickly become difficult to shrug off. The challenge is figuring out whether—and how—to address bad dining habits without making the person feel humiliated.

Here’s what psychologists and etiquette experts suggest.

First, consider whether the behavior is actually rude

Table manners can feel like universal rules, but they’re shaped by culture, family, and upbringing. “We talk about them as though they’re laws of physics,” says Gwenhwyfar Dunne-Henry, a psychologist in Dubai and author of Unbind Me: How to Break the Rules That Keep You Small. “They’re not. They’re social agreements.”

Before correcting someone, think about whether they’re being inconsiderate or simply behaving differently from the way you were taught. Slurping noodles, eating with your hands, and keeping your elbows on the table, for example, can carry different meanings depending on where and how someone grew up.

That doesn’t mean you have to enjoy every habit you encounter. Talking while chewing, spraying food, or sharing utensils while sick can interfere with other people’s comfort or hygiene, says Virginia Chow, a clinical psychologist in Montreal. The point is to understand exactly what’s bothering you—and avoid turning a difference in upbringing into a judgment about someone’s character.

That’s especially important because people rarely react only to the offending behavior. “We argue about what we think it means,” Dunne-Henry says. Someone chews with their mouth open, and you might start thinking they’re selfish, oblivious, or disrespectful. “If they don’t notice this,” she says, “what else don’t they notice?”

Sometimes the habit also becomes a symbol of every other irritation in the relationship. Perhaps the person also interrupts you, leaves messes behind, and routinely takes the last helping without asking. Suddenly, as Dunne-Henry puts it, “the bread roll is carrying a lot of emotional responsibility.”

Hall experienced that escalation firsthand. Once her former partner’s table manners began bothering her, she started noticing every other habit that irritated her. “I think you just start becoming hypercritical,” she says—a reaction she disliked in herself. 

Decide whether it’s your place to say something

Correcting another adult’s table manners is inherently awkward, so Stayce Wagner, a business-etiquette consultant in Jacksonville, Fla., recommends letting an isolated lapse go. Everyone occasionally speaks before swallowing or reaches all the way across the table for something. A repeated habit is different—but even then, your relationship with the person matters most.

A partner or child is one thing. A close relative or trusted friend might also appreciate knowing, particularly if you have the kind of relationship in which you would alert each other to spinach in your teeth. But correcting an acquaintance, coworker, or stranger is rarely worth the embarrassment it could cause.

“Correcting the terrible table manners of someone who isn’t your partner—or your child—is social and relationship dynamite,” Wagner says. Most people ultimately decide whether they can tolerate the habit, find a way around it, or stop sharing meals with the person.

Chow suggests asking yourself whether the behavior is truly affecting you or merely annoying you. “Not every annoyance requires a conversation,” she says. With a stranger, speaking up generally only makes sense when there’s a legitimate health or safety concern—someone who is visibly sick using a shared serving utensil, for example. In that case, focus on solving the immediate problem rather than critiquing their manners: “Would you mind using a clean serving spoon? I’d really appreciate it.”

Bring it up away from the table

If you do decide to say something, resist correcting the person in the moment—particularly if other people are present. “It’s a soul-crushing experience for most people to have their manners corrected in public,” Wagner says.

Instead, choose a private, neutral moment when neither of you is eating. Ask permission to broach an uncomfortable subject, and then describe one specific behavior. Avoid sweeping declarations like “Your table manners are disgusting” or “You eat like an animal.” Those statements turn a changeable habit into an indictment of the entire person.

Chow suggests phrasing it like this: “Can I mention something a little awkward? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes when you’re talking while eating, a bit of food comes out. I figured you’d probably want to know because I’d want someone to tell me.”

That wording assumes the person isn’t doing it intentionally and gives them a face-saving reason to hear you out: You’re sharing information they might want to have, not delivering a verdict on their upbringing.

When the habit is directly affecting your ability to enjoy meals together, Wagner recommends being honest about it—without describing the person as repulsive. Try: “I know you don’t realize it, but sometimes you talk with food in your mouth, and I find it affects my ability to enjoy the meal. Would you be open to me pointing it out when it happens?”

The distinction is small but important: You’re explaining how the behavior affects you, rather than insisting that your standards are objectively correct.

Hall says she wishes she had been that straightforward. At first, she tried making jokes or telling her partner that she couldn’t understand him while his mouth was full—an approach she now suspects sounded passive-aggressive. “I wish I had been a little bit more direct about how much it was affecting my attraction,” she says. 

Agree on how you’ll handle it next time

Table manners are habits, which means one conversation probably won’t make a lifelong behavior disappear. If the person is receptive, ask how they’d like you to alert them if it happens again. You might agree on a word, gesture, or subtle signal that won’t embarrass them in front of other people.

In less intimate relationships, Wagner recommends finding subtle, polite ways to avoid encouraging the behavior. If someone begins answering a question immediately after taking a bite, for example, you could say: “Take your time and enjoy your food—I can wait.”

What’s unlikely to help, meanwhile, is glaring, recoiling, kicking someone under the table, or making snide remarks. “Jokes, sarcasm, public corrections, or visibly expressing disgust probably won’t change the behavior in the long run,” Wagner says. “But it will damage the relationship.”

Even the most tactful conversation might embarrass the person; there’s no magic phrase that makes criticism delightful to receive. “The goal is to not intentionally embarrass or insult them,” Wagner says.

Know when to adapt instead

Sometimes the kindest and easiest choice is to work around the behavior. Wagner has encountered friends and colleagues who double-dipped, for example, but she never corrected them. She simply ordered her own appetizer or transferred what she wanted to a separate plate before they began eating. The behavior bothered her, but she decided the relationships mattered more.

That calculus changes when the offender is a partner and the habit makes you dread eating together. If you’ve raised the issue respectfully and the person repeatedly dismisses your discomfort, the problem may no longer be their chewing. It may be that you don’t feel heard or considered—and that’s a larger conversation.

That, Hall says, was ultimately the problem in her relationship. Her partner didn’t merely struggle to change an ingrained habit; he dismissed her concern as evidence that she was too demanding. “He didn’t really value how I felt about it,” she says.

Etiquette, after all, isn’t really about mastering a complicated rulebook. Instead of tallying another person’s violations, Dunne-Henry suggests asking yourself a simpler question: “How easy am I to share a meal with?” That standard applies to everyone at the table. It means extending some grace when another person’s habits annoy you—and caring enough to listen when someone you love tells you that one of yours is making meals difficult. 

Lizzie Post still remembers the time she walked into a party and an acquaintance greeted her with exciting news: “You had a baby!”

“Nope,” Post said.

“You got engaged!”

Nope again.

“You got married!”

“I’m going to the bar,” Post replied.

Post, co-president of the Emily Post Institute and Emily Post’s great-great-granddaughter, knew the woman meant well. She had apparently heard that something momentous had happened—it hadn’t—and cycled through three incorrect milestones trying to identify it. Fortunately, she eventually stopped guessing: a relief for everyone involved.

Life is full of faux pas, but even when you’re the one making it, you can dig your way out of social quicksand most of the time. Here’s what psychologists and etiquette experts suggest saying, plus when to stop talking.

First, take your foot out of your mouth

Your immediate reaction after saying something you regret might be to turn fire-truck red. Then comes the urge to reach for the very thing that got you into trouble in the first place: more words. People often try to explain, defend, or excuse their misfired remark, says Karina Schumann, a social psychologist and associate professor at the University of Pittsburgh who studies apologies and conflict resolution. The instinct is self-protective: They’re frantically trying to repair their image in the other person’s eyes.

“What actual repair looks like is to shift the attention to the other person,” Schumann says. “Put aside this very strong need that you have to repair your self-image, and instead think: ‘If I were on the receiving end of this, what would I need to hear?’” 

Pause, acknowledge the impact of what you said, and take responsibility. She suggests phrasing it like this: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Or: “I can see that my joke was insensitive. I apologize.” 

Then take a breath. More words will still be available later, should the situation require them.

Match the apology to the offense

A minor blunder and a painful faux pas shouldn’t trigger matching productions of remorse. Forget an acquaintance’s name? A quick “I’m sorry—please remind me” may be enough. Ask when someone is due when she isn’t pregnant, or make a joke that accidentally lands on a painful subject? That calls for a direct acknowledgment of the harm, without trying to laugh it off, and perhaps a longer conversation if the other person wants one.

The person responsible isn’t always the best judge of what it will take to repair the situation. Schumann points to a phenomenon researchers call the “magnitude gap”: People who cause harm tend to view it as less severe and less damaging to the relationship than the people on the receiving end do. The offender may think, I apologized; this should be over. The other person may still be wondering how the offender could fail to understand how much it hurt. 

Don’t turn an apology into an autobiography

An apology doesn’t require an origin story, a director’s commentary, or a guided tour of everything happening inside the offender’s head.

“Blame is like a hot potato,” says Jennifer Thomas, a psychologist and co-author of The 5 Apology Languages: The Secret to Healthy Relationships. Defensive responses—including “I was only joking,” “I didn’t mean it that way,” and “Why did you take it so personally?”—toss it back to the injured person. They minimize the harm, gloss over the offender’s intentions, or suggest the other person is simply too sensitive. 

An explanation can sometimes make what happened easier to understand, Schumann says, but it has to provide context without weakening responsibility. Lead with: “I shouldn’t have done that. There’s no excuse for it.” Then ask whether an explanation would be helpful.

A digital faux pas calls for the same restraint. If you send a text to the wrong person with information you wouldn’t have divulged to them otherwise, Post suggests writing: “I’m so sorry. Clearly that text wasn’t meant for you—and I probably shouldn’t have been sending it anyway.” Then leave it at that.

Resist the apology encore

For a minor, accidental blunder—maybe you stuck your toe in your mouth instead of your whole foot—one sincere apology is generally enough. “The more you apologize, the more it’s about you,” Post says. That means no apology cookies, no anguished message the following morning, and no campaign to extract an official declaration that everything is fine.

Serious harm is different. Schumann cautions against treating every apology as a “one-shot thing,” as though finding the perfect words should settle the matter. The other person may need a longer conversation, an effort to make amends, or simply more time.

“The timing of any forgiveness should stay wholly in the hands of the person who was hurt,” Thomas says. An apology offers them a choice, not a deadline.

What if you don’t realize you made a faux pas until hours or days later? It’s usually better to address it than hope the other person forgot, therapist Elika Dadsetan-Foley says. Try: “I’ve been thinking about what I said yesterday. I realize it may have been insulting, and I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that in the moment.”

The next time you meet, act normal

The next time you run into the neighbor you assumed was sick but who had merely gone makeup-free, or the acquaintance who received a text that was definitely not meant for them, offer a friendly greeting. Avoiding the person can make one uncomfortable exchange feel like a permanent rupture; bringing it up again can give a dying embarrassment fresh oxygen.

Keep the story to yourself, rather than retelling it as evidence of what a hopeless fool you are. “You may think that’s you throwing yourself under the bus, but you’re dragging the other person with you,” Post says. Your self-deprecation may get a laugh, but it also makes the other person’s embarrassment public.

Fortunately, most faux pas don’t require a lifelong of self-flagellation. If you’ve apologized sincerely and the other person seems ready to move on, follow their lead. “We all get stuff wrong from time to time,” Post says. Sometimes recovering gracefully means making amends. Other times, it means saying sorry—and letting everyone get on with the party.