Because When I Found Closure, I Found Myself

Closure

I used to be the girl who couldn’t make a decision for her life. I’d refuse to break up with guys even when I wasn’t feeling it anymore, always giving them just enough attention to keep them interested, I avoided difficult conversations at all costs and lashed out in anger when I didn’t know how to say goodbye.

I clung for dear life to people, habits, and identities because it made me feel safe like everything would be okay if I had them.

Goodbye

Until it hit me that sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we don’t get our fairytale goodbye. Sometimes the page is torn out before we’re ready and the jagged edges leave track marks on our heart and sometimes life closes a door for us.

Memories

Someone dies, an ex gets engaged, a window of opportunity is slammed shut and we are left with a choice; am I going to bang on the door and demand all my unrealized expectations be met, or can I gather my memories and walk away?

Freedom

What I’ve learned is closure is cathartic, it’s liberating, but damn it is illusive. I hear it all the time, “I can’t stop talking to him, I haven’t had closure.” “I can’t seem to let go, something is holding me back.” “I’m scared if I close this door, nothing better will come along.”

Thoughts

Thoughts like these weigh us down, anchoring us to this negativity that restricts us from our full potential. Now I kinda get off on putting things to bed; closing the lid, wrapping a big bow around it and putting it away for good.

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Thank You for Showing Me That a Clean Breakup Is Possible

What We Had

What we had was short, but it was real. You ended it because I no longer did it for you and you can’t blame yourself for that. It hurt, but It was my choice to go after you and fall flat on my face. The truth is, I’m hurt but I’m okay.

Because you did me what most people don’t have the balls to do.

You gave me closure.

It might not have been easy, but you did it. You didn’t ghost me. You didn’t do it over the phone. You did it face to face.

I never questioned if you cared about me because I knew you did. It was whether you cared about me as much as I cared about you. Because I fell for you a lot harder than I wanted to and I got attached.

Those aren’t things that will just dissipate overnight. It will take some time. But, I can respect what you want. Because we don’t always get what we want. And what we want isn’t always what is best for us. And as much as I wanted to be the one that made you happy, I understand that I can’t. We just aren’t right for each other and I have to accept that.

I appreciate everything you did, all the small things and all the support.

You took the time to get to know me and understand me like no one else has. Your actions, gestures, and attentiveness meant the world to me. I’ve never dated anyone that genuinely showed as much interest in me and my interests as you. Thank you for that.

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Letter To Someone I May Have To Let Go

Dear (You Know Who You Are),

I’m writing because I have questions for you. You haven’t been in contact with me since that horrible day I needed you. An important person in my life took my secrets and truths and shared them with you. The presentation was horrific.

Our lives have always been unconventional, atypical. Year after year, there was always a fortissimo of chaos. I went from innocence and ignorance to dissociation.

Repression, aggression, and depression seized my life.

Stagnation is the hallmark of our finite history. I strive to be free from those chains of trauma.

I yearn to make sense of the mess in my head. I don’t expect any of this to be without emotional pain. I don’t expect this to be blessedly quick, either.

I’ve already begun this journey for truth. There is no stopping me now. I only hope you can find your integrity and altruism.

Whatever happened, happened. It won’t hold me back anymore.

Things will never be the same for you and me. It is a bittersweet thought, one I am coming to terms with. You did what you could with what you had. You did what you shouldn’t because it was what you knew.

You’ve been silent like an empty, padded room.

You’ve been distant like an outline on the horizon.

Did those words produce hazy, fragmented pieces of the past?

What does your silence mean?

Sincerely,

A Woman Needing Closure