Anyone familiar with my post-breakup texts or emails will know I never get closure from them.
The thing my brain neglects to explain to my heart is that you don’t get closure by making a fool of yourself. You don’t get closure by understanding the reason for a break-up, or making it clear to the other person that you understand the reason. You don’t get closure by pretending you’re fine; you don’t get it by admitting you’re not.
The way you get closure–and I can hardly believe it’s taken me this long to figure out when I’m sure there are countless self-help books that say a similar thing, and I’m fairly certain I’ve read countless articles pronouncing the same, and I’ve possibly even told myself this before–is simply to not question the situation.
Which to someone who, despite all the healthy thinking she’s internalized over the past few years, still over-analyzes anything she can get her mind on, is a very very hard thing to do.
Because even if, in most of these situations, she knows deep down she didn’t do anything wrong–she realizes not everyone is compatible with her, and even those who are aren’t required to stay with her just because they could potentially create something wonderful together–she still finds herself asking, “What if I didn’t say that one thing?” or “What if I’d done that one thing differently?” or “What if we’d met 5 seconds earlier/later?” And despite the recognition that in the right relationship, one little thing she says, or one tiny thing she does, or 5 small seconds in time won’t be enough to cause its collapse, she still goes over and over this minuscule circumstance that she’s convinced was the final straw. She berates herself, knowing full well she should be grateful she did that one thing since it exposed the relationship’s weakness early on instead of 6 years later when there were rings and babies involved. Even though she’s aware that if some personality quirk of hers is enough to crush the weak foundation of a budding–or even fully bloomed–relationship, then it certainly wasn’t strong enough to stand the test of time, she still feels sad.
For once, I did not do any of this.
For once, I let my brain butt into what is typically my heart’s solo performance to deliver a soliloquy on how people are allowed to suddenly change their minds even if they leaped into something full-force, and it doesn’t mean a single negative thing about me that someone knows after merely 3 weeks he doesn’t want to spend forever by my side, and just because I chose to ignore about a trillion warning signs in favor of the idealistic hope that this time something would work, it doesn’t guarantee nothing will ever work.
While hard for my heart to hear, considering 1.) it really is used to being the star of the show in these situations, and 2.) it doesn’t have ears, it did eventually have to acknowledge the sound reasoning coming through.
Once it did, just like that, my insides untwisted, I got rid of the yucky fog in my chest, and I felt–while yes, alone again, still–okay.
And that, my friend, is what they call closure.