Not Everything Deserves Closure
Why Some Wounds Are Better Left Open
We are often told that closure is necessary to heal. To move on, we must have a final conversation, an apology, a neat conclusion to our pain. The self-help industry, pop psychology, and even well-meaning friends reinforce this idea: "You just need closure." But what if that isn't true? What if some wounds are meant to stay open - not in a way that keeps us stuck in suffering, but in a way that allows us to evolve past the need for answers?
Closure is a comforting myth. It suggests that everything painful can be packaged into a lesson, tied with a bow, and placed on a shelf where it will never haunt us again. But real life doesn't work that way. People leave without explanations. Love ends without resolution. Apologies never come. And sometimes, the people who hurt us most don't even acknowledge the damage they've done. Does that mean we are doomed to never heal? Of course not. It just means we have to rethink what healing looks like.
The Need for Answers That May Never Come
Humans crave certainty. We want to understand why things happened the way they did, why people betrayed us, why someone stopped loving us. We believe that if we had the right answer, we could finally close the chapter and move on.
But the truth is, answers don't always bring relief. Knowing why someone abandoned you doesn't necessarily make the pain go away. Understanding why a parent was incapable of love doesn't undo the childhood wounds. Sometimes, searching for answers only prolongs our suffering, keeping us tethered to the past in an endless loop of analysis and regret.
Instead of demanding a resolution from the people who hurt us, we can choose something radical: letting go without answers. Accepting that we may never get the explanation we crave. That some people will never give us the closure we think we need. And that's okay.
The Illusion of Final Conversations
How many times have we drafted that final text, rehearsed that last conversation, and imagined the perfect ending where everything is said and understood? We envision moments where the people who hurt us suddenly see our pain, apologize sincerely, and offer the validation we've been waiting for.
But often, those final conversations don't go the way we want. The apology never feels quite satisfying enough. The other person might be defensive, dismissive, or unwilling to take responsibility. Or worse, they may gaslight us into believing it was never that bad, to begin with.
Closure isn't found in other people. It's; it’s found within ourselves. When we stop seeking that final word and concentrate on our healing, and reclaim our power. We stop needing permission to move forward. We stop waiting for someone else to set us free.
When Closure Becomes a Trap
Sometimes, the pursuit of closure keeps us stuck. We tell ourselves we can't move on until we get it, so we keep reaching out to people who have already let us go. We revisit the same wounds, hoping for a different outcome. We stay emotionally entangled in past relationships, convinced that if we keep searching, we'll find the missing piece that makes everything make sense.
But closure is not a prerequisite for healing. It's a luxury we don't always get. And the longer we chase it, the longer we remain attached to pain that no longer serves us.
Instead of closure, what if we embraced incompleteness? What if we let the wound breathe, rather than forcing it shut before it's ready? Healing isn't about erasing pain. It's about learning to carry it differently.
The Beauty of Unresolved Stories
Some stories don't need a conclusion. Some wounds don't need to be stitched up neatly. The most profound growth often comes from the spaces where we learn to sit with discomfort, to accept what we cannot change, and to move forward anyway.
Think of the great works of literature, the most haunting songs, the most powerful films - many don't have tidy endings. They leave us with questions, ambiguity, with unresolved emotions that linger long after the story is over. And maybe that's the point.
Life isn't meant to be wrapped up in perfect conclusions. Some people will leave without explanation. Some relationships will end without closure. Some wounds will never fully heal. And yet, we continue. We learn to live with the open-endedness of it all.
Moving On Without Closure
If closure isn't the answer, then what is? How do we move forward without the resolution we were hoping for?
- Accept the Unfinished Story. Some chapters don't get an ending. That doesn't mean the book is ruined. It just means there's room for new stories to unfold.
- Detach from the Need for Validation. You don't need an apology to heal. You don't need someone to admit they hurt you. Your experience is valid, even if the other person never acknowledges it.
- Redirect Your Focus. Instead of pouring energy into the past, invest in the present. Build something new, something beautiful. Let your life be the closure you never received.
- Honor Your Pain Without Becoming It. Feel everything, but don't let it define you. You are not just the sum of your wounds. You are the person who survived them.
- Find Peace in the Mystery. Not everything needs to be understood. Some things are meant to be let go, not figured out.
The Freedom of Unfinished Endings
Closure is overrated. It's a comforting illusion that suggests pain can be neatly resolved when in reality, healing is much messier. Sometimes, the most liberating thing we can do is walk away from the wreckage without looking back, without needing to make sense of it, and without waiting for an ending that may never come.
Some wounds are better left open - not to fester, but to breathe. Not to keep us stuck, but to remind us that we don't need perfect endings to move forward. Life isn't about neatly closed doors; it's about learning to live in the spaces where the wind still blows through the cracks.
And in that space, we find something better than closure: We find ourselves.
About the Creator
Tania T
Hi, I'm Tania! I write sometimes, mostly about psychology, identity, and societal paradoxes. I also write essays on estrangement and mental health.



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