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Why You Keep Chasing Closure (and Why It Doesn’t Work)

  • Writer: Jordan Craft
    Jordan Craft
  • 17 hours ago
  • 3 min read

Let’s be real: closure is the emotional equivalent of trying to find the last piece of a 1,000-piece puzzle… only to realize it was never in the box to begin with.


You sit there, eyes twitching, heart bleeding, staring at the gaping hole like, “Did I miss something? Did I drop it? Did they take it?”


And maybe—just maybe—you think if you ask the right question or say the right thing, they’ll suddenly hand you that missing piece and walk away like, “Ah yes, my bad. Here’s everything you needed to move on. Take care.”


Spoiler alert: They won’t. That’s not how this works.



Closure is a Myth Sold to the Hopeful


The concept of closure is basically emotional customer service. You want a refund on your pain. You want an explanation, a resolution, a neat little bow to tie around the steaming garbage fire that just exploded in your life.


But here’s the kicker:


Closure assumes the other person is capable of giving it to you. That they’re emotionally literate, mature, reflective, accountable.


That they’re willing to sit in the discomfort of your pain and offer clarity not because it benefits them, but because you deserve peace.


Now, ask yourself: if they were capable of that… would you even need closure?



What You’re Actually Chasing


Let’s call it out. You’re not chasing closure. You’re chasing:


  • Validation that your pain is real

  • A different ending

  • Accountability from someone who may never give it

  • A reason that makes the chaos make sense

  • A version of events that hurts less


You’re trying to rewrite the ending to a story that’s already finished—sometimes mid-sentence, sometimes without punctuation. You’re looking for emotional symmetry where there is none. And in doing so, you’re keeping yourself tied to something you want to understand but may never be able to.



The Brain Craves Resolution—Even If It’s Fake


Psychologists call it “the Zeigarnik Effect”—our brains literally cling to unfinished business more than completed tasks. That’s why unresolved relationships, ghostings, betrayals, and weird gray-area situations stick with us. Your brain is like, “Hello? We need answers or I will keep replaying this moment at 3 a.m. until you lose your mind. Deal?”


You’re hardwired to seek endings. But the truth is, sometimes peace comes not from answers, but from surrender. Not from knowing why they did it, but from accepting that they did.



Closure Doesn’t Come From Them—It Comes From You Deciding It’s Over


Unpopular opinion: closure isn’t a conversation. It’s a decision.


It’s the moment you stop refreshing their page, stop replaying that last convo, stop romanticizing what could’ve been if they had just shown up right.


Closure is:


  • Blocking without guilt

  • Writing the letter you never send

  • Reclaiming your narrative

  • Saying “I deserved better” and actually believing it

  • Choosing peace over explanation


You don’t need them to admit they hurt you. You don’t need them to suddenly develop empathy three months post-discard. You need to say, “This chapter is closed, even if I didn’t get to write the last sentence.”



But What If They Do Come Back With an Explanation?


You might be thinking: “Okay but what if they do come back and explain themselves?”

Cool. Then what? You feel better for a second, sure. You eat that closure like a snack.


But do you trust it? Do you believe it was honest? Does it undo the damage?


Usually, the answer is no. Because closure often brings more questions.


Why now? Why not sooner? Is this real or are they manipulating me again?


You’ll just end up chasing closure for the closure.


It’s an endless loop. A psychological limbo.



What to Do Instead


  • Write Your Own Ending. Journal it, scream it into a voice note, burn a letter in your backyard—whatever gets it out of your body.

  • Reframe the Narrative. Instead of “I didn’t matter enough,” try “They didn’t have the capacity to love me the way I deserved.”

  • Sit With the Discomfort. Grief doesn’t need answers to be valid. Pain doesn’t need logic to be real.

  • Focus on What You Do Control. Their actions? Nope. Your healing, your energy, your next steps? Hell yes.



The Truth? Closure is Just a Fancy Word for Control.


We don’t want closure. We want to feel in control of the story. We want to make it make sense. But sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is whisper,


“This hurts like hell, and I still release it.”


You don’t need them to explain why they dropped the ball.


You just need to stop carrying it.



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