Andrea Wilson Woods' Blog

In psychology, closure means “a sense of psychological certainty or completeness“; it can also describe the “completion of a closed traverse in such a way that the point of origin and the endpoint coincide within an acceptably small margin of error” with regard to surveying land. Although the former definition more accurately applies to my particular craving, I prefer the latter one because it describes my desire to end relationships with a sense that both parties have said their peace; both have come together and either agreed or agreed to disagree upon certain issues/incidents that have transpired. I crave the end of the closed traverse—within an acceptably small margin of error.

In real life, however, closure rarely happens. I wonder if it’s because most people hate confrontation or if it’s the necessity of honesty that is required for adequate closure to occur. All relationships end eventually, but unless I have a conversation with that friend, lover, relative, etc., I beat myself up over the Wouldas, Couldas, Shouldas, and What Ifs that I never expressed. Sometimes closure isn’t possible because the other person isn’t capable of carrying on a rational conversation (i.e. my mother); sometimes the person moves away and rehashing everything from a distance seems pointless; and sometimes the person refuses to seek closure with you—having already moved on with her life, not sharing the same craving.

The irony of the third example is not lost on me, and after another sleepless night of pondering the Wouldas, Couldas, Shouldas, and What Ifs, I realized I was playing defense, which is no way to live. So I switched sides, joined the offense, and found ways to close the door all by myself. I gathered old photos, written notes, misc chotchkes, and the cards for no reason; I decided what remnants of the relationship I wanted to remember. In the wee hours of the morning, I had three piles: Keep, Toss, and Return.

I kept almost everything, tossed very little, and plan to return a few items I don’t feel comfortable owning anymore. For the first time in six months, I can move forward—the pain less acute. By looking through everything, I relived the joy of the relationship, but also acknowledged that the laughter ceased long ago.

And that, my friends, is closure.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under Relationships | No Comments »

My husband and I saw The Reader this past weekend, and I cannot stop thinking about the film. Set in post-WWII Germany, a law student named Michael begins to re-evaluate his past when he sees his much older former lover Hanna (perfectly portrayed by Kate Winslet) defending herself in a war-crime trial. Many issues arise throughout the film: the Holocaust, statutory rape, young love, and later—betrayal when Michael discovers the truth about Hanna’s past.

It would be easy to classify The Reader as just another war film or even an ad for literacy, but as I ruminated over its theme, I realized that it’s not that simple. The film reminds us that someone, usually the person you would least expect, can have a profound impact on our lives. As we walk toward the future, we carry our pasts with us, but usually our memories are buried in our minds, not visible for others to see. However, when those pieces of personal history pop into our present lives—reminding us of who we were then and who we are now—emotions cyclone like a tornado causing us to relive the joys, sorrows, fears, pains, and regrets that we never thought would surface again.

This epidemic of our pasts haunting us has become more prevalent due to online social networks like Facebook and MySpace, which reconnect us with childhood friends, high school pals, college roommates, and previous lovers. We have to ask ourselves: Do we want to be our history’s “friend”? And if we do, why and what does that mean exactly? Are we recapturing our youth? Reliving fond memories? Reflecting on what we did or didn’t do?

Relationships end for a reason, but the Internet has guaranteed that if we desire, we can perpetuate our past connections well into our future. The question then becomes—should we?

AWW — XoXo

P.S. A self-proclaimed overly nostalgic, sentimental person, I am a huge fan of Facebook.

Posted under Entertainment & Relationships | No Comments »

My greatest fear is loss. Losing Adrienne, my sister, my child, and in many ways my best friend, is the greatest loss I can ever imagine. You expect to outlive your parents, some of your friends, maybe your spouse (especially if you’re a woman), but outliving your child goes against the natural order of the universe.

I have always known I would outlive everyone I love (I mean everyone)—even my younger sister, but I thought I would be 70 and she would be 56. Unless I change my own fate, I will surely outlive my father and most likely my husband. Though he didn’t raise me for much of my life, I am truly my father’s daughter in every way. I still want to make him proud of me—how silly is that at my age? And my husband is so much more than my lover; he is my best friend, my sounding board, my biggest fan, my constant companion, and he always kisses me goodnight. Who will do that when he’s gone?

When asked what the secret of her success was, Barbara Walters responded (I’m paraphrasing), “Surviving personal losses.” I understand what she means. I don’t disagree with her, but I don’t think I can take another loss—whether it’s the death of a loved one or the end of a friendship. The pain has become so unbearable that no amount of Valium or Wellbutrin or therapy can minimize it. I end up feeling lost all the time because of my losses.

But when I think about altering my destiny, choosing to end the aching in my heart (I marvel at how the heart really hurts on a physical level; I experience chest pains), I consider what that choice would mean to others in my life— particularly my husband and my father. I also wonder what Adrienne would think—she would be angry with me for wasting my life, for throwing away the opportunities that she missed. And I would be causing the two people I love the most, the worst possible pain, the kind I don’t wish on anyone. Then I realize I can’t do it. I’m stuck. Here. Now. In the present.

I cannot handle any more losses, but they will happen—for all of us—when we least expect them … like our own shadows stalking us on a sunny day.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. — Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

The Bible got one thing right.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under Adrienne & Relationships | No Comments »