Closure / Ego
Monday, May 20, 2013
One lesson in life that's hard to learn is that closure doesn't really exist.
It's just this magical word that people use when they would rather leave that last hook buried into the most hidden (and painful) part of the tie you've made with an individual. "OH... once I just get closure, I'll feel better and let this all go."
It's just this magical word that people use when they would rather leave that last hook buried into the most hidden (and painful) part of the tie you've made with an individual. "OH... once I just get closure, I'll feel better and let this all go."
Ok, ego. Nice try.
Let's break this down:
After several failed attempts to seek finalization from a person (because after all you've been through with someone, you swear they owe you at least that), you spend days, weeks, months, maybe even years playing things over in your head, trying to understand what you could have done differently to change this outcome and feel better than you do in this terrible moment. - even after all the time has passed.
You either store everything inside because you hold a person so dear to your heart you wouldn't dare sully their name to even your closest friend or you spend an ungodly amount of time analyzing and reanalyzing the situation with those around you - looking for some kind of answer to your dilema - some pivotal, life-changing words that should fall out of thin air and renew your faith in human beings.
But often times, you know what happens after all of this? Nothing. nothing.
NOTHING.
There are no answers. There are no grand enlightenments. The person you had devoted all of this love and time to gives you nothing - i think for three main reasons (though i've never gotten to ask, so forgive me for assuming):
1. In bad cases, the person is unaware that they even made the slightest human error (it's human, thus forgivable, but how do you go about speaking about this when the person has no idea?).
2. To some, ignorance is bliss. Eventually, problems will just go away on their own.
3. I really think, deep deep deep in my heart, that there are just some people that are crystal-clear on a bad situation, know things have slipped past the point of repair and just like me/you dealing with this internal struggle, rely on stubbornness and stick steadfast to the hope that I/you will be the one to come back around and put a big band-aid on everything. Why? Because I/you always stepped up in the past, so why not now? Well - there comes a point where you just decide it's more painful to keep reaching out, only to be rejected/ignored than to just stop trying all together.
Eventually, you drop your ego and accept that the only option is to let go, move on, and slowly you rebuild your life with new experiences, friends, etc. Occasionally there is a twinge of anger/hurt that arises that you didn't know that was left - you choke on your pride and the uncomfortableness of the feeling and hope that this time, it only takes a fraction of the time as the first round.
I had something flare-up today, and so I guess that's why I'm up at 3:17 a.m. writing about this all. I haven't written in a long time. I am struggling - and surprisingly, not with a guy this time! ha.
I can't think of how to package all of the frustrations/hurt into a nice little package, so I won't try because it would just be useless, ugly garbage that isn't productive to anyone (and wouldn't you know, I still love this person to hell and back).
Maybe it's as simple as you just cycle out of someones life because you've learned all you can from each other - but I have to say I really thought this one was for life. I thought by now, things would be okay. They're not. I have been guilty of buying back into closure and thinking there was still a shred of hope that there would be some kind of gesture (grand or small) that would just smooth everything over - but I think I just realized there's nothing coming. How's that for dropping the ego and naivety? Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.
As Lebowski says... "That's... that's a bummer, man."
Forgive me while I mourn this on a grand scale.