Closure

Over the past few months I’ve been thinking, on and off, about the concept of closure. How people crave it, how often they feel entitled to it, how the popular culture seems to indicate it is both necessary and probable, and how the reality is far from it.

You send a grant to a funding agency, and it comes with brief, infuriatingly vague comments. There’s nothing actionable in the feedback. You wish you could somehow reach through the funding-agency portal and into the past to grab the reviewer by the shoulders and shake them until they tell you what exactly it is that they didn’t like in your meticulously written proposal. The truth is, you will never really  know. You will have to go with your experience if you are to revise. Maybe the reviewer’s own Dunning-Kruger prevented them from admitting they didn’t understand the project. Maybe they didn’t take the review seriously enough. Bottom line is, they didn’t like it, so it won’t get funded. You will never know exactly why.

A friend ghosts you. A romantic partner breaks it off with some it’s-not-you-it’s-me faux reason. They will probably never tell you why. Does it even matter why? You can try to figure it out on your own, but it won’t change the outcome. Ultimately, they’re gone.

Why do we expect closure? I understand craving it, but why do we feel entitled to it? Part of it is not wanting to admit that things are over, and hopelessly so. Part of it is probably because popular culture makes it seem that closure is necessary in order to move on, and also likely. In popular movies, there are no loose ends at the conclusion of the narrative arc. The character faces their nemesis or an estranged parent or a former lover. Everything gets wrapped up, with in a neat little bow on top, because that’s how compelling storytelling works. The movies where things are left open-ended are considered artsy at best, bad and infuriating at worst. But they are closer to reality than the popular fare.

People who are in our lives don’t owe it to us to remain in our lives. Maybe we outlived our usefulness; this is cold and calculated, but sadly quite common. Maybe we hurt them or neglected them; then it’s out fault that they left. The point is, once someone is out of your life and doesn’t seem responsive to nudges, let them be. There’s no point in chasing them under the guise of seeking closure, because you already know the most important thing you need to know—they don’t want to be around anymore. It’s often a small mercy that they don’t relent in your quest to give you closure; are you sure you really want to know all the ways in which you suck?

I have certainly cut off contact with people without pomp or circumstance. If they deeply reflected on our relationship, they could probably figure out what was bothering me and what the reason was behind the withdrawal, but in a true Catch-22 situation, had they been able to reflect to the needed degree, we would not have gotten to the point that I had to withdraw. “But how will they know to do better next time?” you ask. I don’t care; it’s not my problem anymore. I don’t owe anyone an explanation after we no longer have a relationship. They have all they need to figure things out if they want to, but they probably won’t. I don’t owe them more emotional work.

A couple of months ago, a beta reader for my novel commented how a character needed to get closure in their relationship with a parent who’d spent the character’s whole life being avoidant and neglectful. The reader said the character needed a big moment of facing said parent and sharing their hurt. I don’t think so. Someone whose job was to love and cherish you failed to do so for years; you think they give a shit about your hurt feelings? You think they will be shocked and dismayed at the damage they’ve done? Hell no. That is probably what they were going for to begin with, even if it wasn’t fully conscious. No character of mine is going to give a horrible parent the satisfaction of articulating their own hurt. It wouldn’t be closure; it would ultimate humiliation. The parent can go @#$%&#%^ themselves while the character purges them from their life.

What say you, blogosphere? How important is it to get closure? How probable? And how is it mid-August already? 


6 responses to “Closure”

  1. Usually I don’t ghost people purposefully, I just get busy and am delighted if our paths cross again. And I assume that’s what is happening when people fall out of contact with me, so no need for closure. (I’d rather not know for certain they find me annoying.)

    That said, I did purposefully ghost someone around 11 years ago (around the birth of my second kid) because she was … an energy vampire, is probably the best description… and I didn’t have time or emotional energy for her anymore. But like, I just politely ghosted– I don’t think I even failed to respond to a text or anything, just behaved like a busy person with a newborn would behave. I even sent students to her for internships over the years and told them to say hi to her for me.

    ANYHOW, a couple months ago she sent me a bizarre email via linked in wondering what she did wrong and can we rekindle our important friendship etc. Like completely bizarre and dramatic. I didn’t reply. I probably would have if she’d just sent a “hey, thinking of you, it’s been a long time what’s up.” But she didn’t.

    Then the other week, DH gets a text from her husband who was our original friend… he’s moved to our town and is looking for work. So DH goes out to lunch and finds out that this woman had cheated on the husband with her first boyfriend, she asked for a poly relationship and the husband said no, their kid is triple special needs, the husband hadn’t been able to keep a steady job over the past 10 years because he had to spend too much time taking both her and the kid to doctors appointments so he’s been working as a SAHD, and they’ve been divorced since December. She has also moved to our town because that’s where her boyfriend is.

    Maybe a little too much closure? I’m hoping I don’t accidentally run into her in town anywhere. Fortunately we do grocery pick-up now.

  2. Michael N Nitabach Avatar
    Michael N Nitabach

    Yeah, your beta reader’s demand was not consistent with reality. The only way I finally figured out how to have a tolerable relationship with my parents was to accept that they are incapable of actually hearing & processing my experiences as their child, have no interest in self-reflection regarding their parenting, and are never ever ever ever ever EVER going to acknowledge or take responsibility for their actions when they were raising me. Once I accepted that & stopped fantasizing about some kind of “truth & reconciliation” baloney, I was able to focus on what I myself could do to enable a tolerable relationship, accepting that they are who they are & were who they were & nothing could ever possibly alter any of that.

  3. As Captain Awkward says, reasons are for reasonable people. If you have awful parents, or an awful boyfriend, or whatever, the best revenge is living well: that is, build the life you want to have, without them in it. As Nitabach says, they aren’t going to change, your past is not going to be redeemed, it’s just the past.

    That said, I will admit to having had fantasies about running into past romantic partners while with my adoring husband, who makes it clear (simply by being present and himself) that I have done So Much Better Than You. These are very satisfying and provide all the closure I need.

  4. I find the obsession with closure particularly unhelpful when it comes to grief. There is nothing you can do after the loss of a loved one that will bring closure, and yet our culture is still obsessed with that idea – you need to say goodbye, you need to have a big funeral because that will draw a line under things and you can ‘move on’ (another awful phrase that people trot out). I didn’t lose a loved one to Covid, but I know many people who did for whom the closure idea is particularly painful – they often didn’t get to say goodbye or have a proper funeral. I think the obsession with closure is symptomatic of a wider problem that we now feel we have to be happy all of the time – if life is messy or difficult, that’s wrong and needs to be fixed, or we’re failing in some way. Instead, we need to be better as a society at acknowledging painful and difficult moments, being honest and open about them and accepting that negative emotions, memories and experiences will be part of our lives and shape them in whatever way.

  5. Closure seems a lot more common in fiction than real life. Annoyingly common.

  6. Another anon Avatar
    Another anon

    Thank you so much for articulating these ideas: “Everything gets wrapped up, with in a neat little bow on top, because that’s how compelling storytelling works. The movies where things are left open-ended are considered artsy at best, bad and infuriating at worst. But they are closer to reality than the popular fare.”

    I’ve had a plagued relationship with fiction and storytelling for most of my adult life, after being an extraordinary reader in childhood. It embarrasses me. I think it’s the relentless structure and closure I find off-putting. I like loose threads (and looking back, left them in all my attempts at creative writing; stories ended on a minor key, people didn’t learn, things remained broken in new ways). But the artsy pieces still often leave me hankering for… wait for it… actual data/reality to stare at and ponder. I develop mathematical models about nature all the freaking time for my day job, but somehow I dislike common stories applied to people — “The argument all bare is of more worth than when it hath my added praise beside.” Maybe I’m just tired of humanity?

    I wonder if I will ever figure this out.

    Similar to Mike’s experience, my recognizing I would never get closure was essential to my moving on from my traumatic childhood.

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