Closure is for suckers

+ have you ever tried just sitting with your heartbreak? It blows.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Hello, my loves!

I’ve been sitting this week with an unsettling feeling that something big is about to surface, emotionally. Do you know this feeling? Slightly wobbly, maybe a little teary, short-tempered and just a bit…off? It’s not hormones (trust me, I am all over that) and it’s not anxiety, but it is noticeable and kind’ve annoying if I’m honest.

It probably shouldn’t be a huge surprise. It’s been about six weeks since my last break up and, while it wasn’t a long relationship, I really liked the guy and miss him a lot. I’ve also chosen not to fill the hole he left in my life with anyone else nor am I entertaining the idea of dating. I don’t exactly have a roster as such, but there are people I can call, you know? The temptation has been real, and I’m proud of myself for just sitting with my loneliness and rejection and general sad girl vibe.

So, as I’ve been subjecting myself to the fresh but necessary hell that is leaning into discomfort without numbing, I have been thinking a lot about closure.

One thing I’ve realised over the past few years is that this idea of closure when a relationship ends really has a hold on us. It’s like we can’t let things end in a sad, awkward way (which they almost always do). No, we must have reasons, and explanations and every single piece of information we can possibly get about whhhyyyyy???

But when my latest relationship ended, I didn't seek closure. I simply said ‘ok’ and ended the call. And it’s not because I didn’t care. I cared. I cried for a week and sometimes still do. I didn’t ask for more information because deciding they didn’t want to be with me anymore was all the information I needed. I wasn’t his employee. I don’t need feedback about my performance. I don’t need to know why.

I felt this empowered for approximately 7 seconds.

Don’t get me wrong. As I sit in this post-breakup void, far enough away from the event to be fine but still not really okay (did I mention I’m not numbing the pain at all, just like sitting with it? It suuuucks), I wonder daily what it actually was that blew out the flame between us. I go back over things I said and did, deciding one day it wasn’t about me at all and the next that it most definitely was. I do this because I’m human and we think that more information will make it hurt less.

But here’s the thing.

More information does not make it hurt less. Often, more information makes it hurt more. No, all the pursuit of more information in the name of closure does is delay the inevitable.

Accepting that something we opened space in our hearts for is gone.

Now that fucking hurts.

So is it any wonder we go around in circles, stalking their socials, going back through old messages, hitting up friends for updates? We think we need to understand to make the pain go away. But in fact we’re just not ready to accept that they are gone.

Why is this so hard though? I think there are a few things at play here.

We hate not knowing stuff

This seems obvious, but most of us are pretty intolerant to not having the full picture. Especially when it involves someone’s perception or opinion of us. I know, I know what other people think of me is none of my business but dammit, I actually really want to know what other people think of me. Especially if they’ve seen me naked.

The thing is though, uncertainty is not always a terrible thing. But in general we tend to consider uncertainty to be an aversive state. So, when a relationship ends without closure, it leaves a sense of uncertainty about the future and the meaning of the relationship, leading to discomfort and a desire for closure.

That time I dated an avoidant

Nothing like an abrupt breakup to expose our anxious or disordered attachment style! As a reforming anxious attachment gal, I feel this one in my bones. This latest guy was textbook avoidant, which made us a real winning combo. He could not talk about his feelings at all, about anything, and I need at least some kind of feedback loop to feel right side up. Good times. When a significant relationship ends abruptly or without closure, it can disrupt these attachment bonds, leading to feelings of loss and a strong desire to regain a sense of connection and closure (me) or to throw your phone in the bin and never speak to anyone again (him).

The story I’m telling myself is…

We are all in our stories, all of the time. Humans are natural storytellers and often use narratives to make sense of our experiences and project what we think the future will bring. When a relationship ends without closure, it can leave that story without an ending. No-one likes to get to the end of a chapter that just fizzles out with no firm explanation of what happened. We want to be able to tell a complete story, and leaving a narrative unfinished can create a sense of disorientation.

Regulate me, baby

When a relationship ends, even if it was in its early stages, most of us feel something. Feeling like we didn’t get the opportunity to get closure can be really emotionally dis-regulating. There are unresolved emotions such as sadness, anger or guilt. We’re looking for something to stabilise ourselves. If we don’t have the right tools or supports in place, we feel like closure will provide an opportunity to process these emotions and bring a sense of emotional resolution. Spoiler alert: it won’t, and will likely send your nervous system into a rapid spin without an off switch. So I hear, anyway.

Back to my point…do we actually need closure?

Closure is often portrayed as the gold standard in tying up loose ends, gaining a clear understanding of exactly what went wrong, healing wounds and moving forward with a sense of finality. But in reality, relationships are messy and complex, and closure is rarely a tidy, one-time event. Instead, it’s a process that unfolds over time, often without a definitive endpoint.

What we are really looking for is control

It’s really hard to process someone else telling us that they don’t want to be with us anymore. It sucks. It’s uncomfortable. And, in an effort to relieve the discomfort, we desperately want to put ourselves back in the driver’s seat (even if the bus is about to go off the cliff). We want to influence the end of the chapter, we want a say in shaping the narrative. We want to feel less powerless and at least have the opportunity to contribute our version of events.

But actually, seeking closure will often do the exact opposite. When we ask for the full, balls and all details behind a decision, it can mean relinquishing our own power and agency to someone else’s version of the relationship (and us). By relying on someone else to provide closure, you’re giving them the power to dictate how you should feel and when you should move on. This can be especially detrimental if their version of events doesn’t align with your own experiences and emotions.

The other thing we crave when seeking closure, I believe, is not closure per se, but rather the opportunity to keep the connection alive in some form. If you’ve been blindsided by a break-up it can be almost impossible to fast-track your own processing to be at the same place emotionally as the other person. They might have been sitting on the decision for a while, and have mentally prepared. You, on the other hand, are not. And you’re not quite ready for the connection to be completely severed.

Seeking closure, particularly if this drags on over several interactions, can really just be you processing what’s happened in real time. Whether it’s revisiting memories, seeking explanations, or simply maintaining a sense of familiarity, the desire for connection lingers long after a relationship has ended. In my experience, this is not only disruptive to starting the healing journey but can also lead to poor decisions (like getting back together, only to break up again a few weeks later. Again, so I hear).

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As tempting as closure is, I really don’t believe it’s necessary these days. You might be offered some form a closure from the other person during a break up and sure, that might be helpful. But honestly? Closure isn’t something you need to seek from anyone other than yourself. Ugh, I know. Annoying but true.

If someone has said they don’t want to be with you anymore that’s really all you need to know.

Give yourself time to process the blow of that first, then use your own self-reflection to understand if there was anything you want to learn from that relationship. Because don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting we ignore feedback or flatly refuse to accept responsibility for our role in something not working. But don’t chase this down from someone else. Instead of demanding closure, focus on your own healing and understanding.

Your experience of the relationship is valid and meaningful, regardless of whether or not you receive closure from the other person. Ultimately, closure is a personal journey, and the only version of the relationship that truly matters is your own.

Until next week, lovers.

Evie xx

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