Why Do We Always Need Closure?
In the end, we don't really like cliffhangers
Have you ever watched a movie that doesn't have an actual ending? How did that make you feel? Annoyed, angry, incomplete. It's a human thing to want answers, to feel uneasy about unfinished business. To want the last note to be sung in your favorite song, to understand what went wrong after a breakup. Sometimes to wallow, or to learn from your mistakes.
In reality, life ends in the middle of a sentence, and more often than not we don't get the ending that we need. It's a human thing to want closure. And, if you're an overthinker, you'll be awake all night, thinking about the 6 million unanswered questions that you can hear bouncing from ear to ear inside of that thick skull of yours.
Allow me to explain; I'm not the kind of person who's always looking for a happy ending, I'm just looking for an end after something is done. A post-mortem of sorts if you will. And, not having answers to my questions makes my mind wander, overthink and relive every scene of that situation until I come up with my own, which is rarely a good thing. When I unilaterally came up with those answers, anger, and sadness took over, let that simmer, and you'll get an exploding pile of crap, followed by a scene that usually includes copious amounts of hate. No Bueno.
To be honest, to me closure feels like a sense of completion and vindication all at once. Closure allows me to move on, to get over whatever happened, it doesn't matter if it was a happy ending or something that R.R Martin could have written (and yes, I need him to finish Game of Thrones). Closure gives us that full circle, a clean slate, the final check mark on the fuck you list in some cases. Closure is the elusive unicorn that we chase after the split, to lift the emotional baggage off your shoulders and feel ready to start over.
The problem appears when there's another human involved (goddamit! Human interactions), at the end of a relationship where you showed all your cards but this person left the situation high and dry or worse, left an open-ended episode, where interpretations will occur. You probably have questions, but you want to preserve some pride, or this person won't provide the answers that you desperately need. And what about that sense of finality? The white flag after the war?
I'm in the midst of unresolved issues, looking for answers to move on, to close the chapter and burn the book. But like the Hulk "I'm exposed, like a nerve." Me, the overthinker who always shows her cards first.
And me, in the raw, where I'm all vulnerability and feels, it's when I need that closure more than ever. Because one of my excellent overthinker qualities is to assume that I did something wrong, that the situation ended like it did, because of my mistakes.
Let's face it, I have made some, and it's the unanswered questions that keep burning in the back of my head. The eternal what ifs, "what if I had said something to change this?" "what are my options now?" "Did I make this go the wrong way, didn't show, talk or love enough?" Did I fuck things up to the point of no return?.
Right now the other side is unbeknownst to me, what remains, what kind of answers can I provide in case there are any questions. But then again, I'm an open book. I can't pretend, it has never been my style. And, in the end, I'm the kind of person that will be dying to text and ask these questions, but I'd chop my hand off before doing so, why? Let's call it pride, dignity or the fact that I'm possibly fed up with being the one who always makes the first move. This kind of closure needs to come from me, and as I write this, I'm seeing how painful that's going to be.
As we all know that closure isn't always possible, that kind of magical sendoff to a relationship or a situation that was meaningful to us it might never happen, while you need to allow yourself to feel sad or incomplete, it's also about gathering your strength and moving on.
Be the one who moves forward, without pretending that it didn't matter (because you know it did), just finish the chapter without reading the last page. It's daunting but sometimes needed. I might have a thousand things to say and ask, but right now I have a thousand reasons not to and, it's about the choices we make: to move on without final words or to wait for them to come and disappoint us.
Maybe that's all that some moments are: incomplete, just half-written stories that are finished without an ending. Sometimes what's left unsaid says it all. And it's on you to deal with it and move on.
Upwards and Onwards.