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

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