Do We Really Need Closure?

Last night I was thinking about my past life, the broken relationships, and everything in between.

And a question popped into my mind;

Is closure really necessary?

What could have been different if I got closure on my past?

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We're told from an early age that closure is vital. We watch it unfold in countless movies and read about it in the pages of novels. The protagonist confronts their past, seeks answers, and ultimately finds solace in the resolution of their inner turmoil.

It's a satisfying narrative arc that ties up loose ends, but does it mirror reality?

Closure, it seems, is a concept drenched in ambiguity. It's like a mirage in the desert, shimmering just out of reach, promising relief from the relentless thirst for unresolved issues.

But does it truly quench that thirst, or does it merely offer a temporary reprieve?

I've known people who have embarked on quests for closure, seeking out those who have wronged them or desperately chasing the elusive whys that haunt their past. They confront their ghosts and lay bare their grievances, and yet, the closure they so ardently sought often remains elusive.

Perhaps the problem lies in our expectations. We envision closure as a magic elixir that will wash away the stains of the past and free us from the shackles of lingering pain.

But what if closure is not a one-size-fits-all solution?

What if, for some of us, it's an illusion, a phantom we chase that recedes further into the distance with each step we take toward it?

In the grand scheme of life, perhaps the need for closure is a construct we've built. We demand neatly packaged resolutions to our conflicts as if life itself adheres to the structure of a well-crafted story.

We yearn for apologies, explanations, and forgiveness, but life often offers none of these.

Sometimes, the only closure we can achieve is within ourselves, by accepting that not all stories have tidy endings.

The pursuit of closure can be an all-consuming endeavor. It can pull us into an endless vortex of rumination, bitterness, and despair.

We become trapped in a never-ending cycle of what-ifs and if-only, believing that closure will be our salvation.

But what if, in our relentless pursuit, we become prisoners of our own obsessions, unable to move forward or let go?

It's not to say that closure is always an illusion. There are instances where confronting the past and seeking resolution can bring genuine peace. But we must be cautious not to put all our hopes and dreams into a single basket, for the journey towards closure can be unpredictable.

Sometimes, closure can be found in the quiet moments, in the acceptance that some wounds will never fully heal, and that's okay. It's in the realization that we can choose to forgive, not for the sake of others, but for our own liberation. Closure can be as simple as closing the door on the past, allowing the dust to settle, and moving on.

But perhaps, more often than not, the relentless pursuit of closure is not about the other person or the past; it's about us. It's a reflection of our desire to control the narrative, to make sense of the chaos, to draw a line under the unfinished business. It's an attempt to rewrite history and find redemption in our own story.

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Yet, is it not the open-ended, messy, and unfinished aspects of life that give it depth and richness?

Would life be as meaningful if every story had a perfectly wrapped ending, if every wound healed completely?

Is closure truly necessary, or is it a luxury we sometimes indulge in, like a dessert after a satisfying meal?

The answer, it seems, lies within each of us. We must weigh the burden of our past against the hope of our future and decide how much energy we want to invest in the pursuit of closure. Sometimes, it's the act of letting go, of releasing the need for resolution, that brings the most profound peace.

So, as I pondered on the question, "Is closure really necessary?"

I find myself leaning toward a simpler truth.

Closure may be a desire, but it's not always a necessity.

Life goes on, and sometimes, in letting go, we find the closure we seek without even realizing it.