Much like an overgrown toddler, I spend a lot of time asking “why.” Whether it’s because human behavior and psychology have always fascinated me or because I genuinely struggle to understand, I never cease to spiral into a mental quest to get to the bottom of why someone behaves in harmful and confusing ways. More destructively and often inaccurately, that spiral then snowballs into my brain obsessively trying to piece together how someone’s poor behavior reflects negatively upon myself instead of believing that their behavior reflects their own limitations.
On social media, you frequently see and hear women claiming “they always come back” after getting dumped by a man, spreading around the expectation that most exes will eventually try to reach out again for whatever reason. Sometimes this does happen, and while validating and vindicating in many post-breakup scenarios, it’s often too little too late. There’s nothing more anticlimactic than an ex you spent two years trying to move on from finally trying to come back five years later after you couldn’t force yourself to feel anything for him anymore if your life depended on it. Wouldn’t that full circle moment have been much more poetic or satisfying during the throes of active heartbreak?
Unfortunately, some of the most painful breakups or failed dating attempts from my past have been left unresolved. In fact, even the abrupt dissolution of my long term friendship months ago still remains in figurative purgatory. For an overthinker like me, sitting with the unknown is grossly uncomfortable. What do you mean I may never get an answer or explanation? What the heck am I supposed to do with that?
For as many questions that have gone unanswered for me lately, I would be lying if I didn’t mention the many times I have been fortunate enough to receive explanations, albeit painful ones at times. If you’ve experienced being ghosted a time or two, you start to greatly appreciate whatever crumbs of closure do get communicated, even if a bit direct or harshly delivered. A swift “I’m not interested” is nothing short of painful to someone as sensitive and self blaming as myself, but at least it stops the mental loop of “what if.”
Within the last few months, I have had three exes circle back around out of the blue which was quite unexpected for me. Fortunately, one in particular was very kind and wanted to apologize for any hurt he caused me in the past, explaining that he was unaware of how to process emotions during our brief time together and created collateral damage as a result. He affirmed my value and expressed how he regrets not treating me better when he had the chance, as time showed him the rarity of my positive qualities. In other words, this was the ideal form of closure that most of us dream of having, and I was very grateful to him for reaching out. But, of course, I was well over the situation by that time and had much bigger emotional fish to fry, so the poetic ending fell a bit flat.
On the other hand, one of those three exes (who still lives in my head rent free for various reasons) went to great lengths to reach me after I tried to disappear from his life for nearly a year for my own sanity. Not having fully healed from the situation, I was warm, but still curious to hear what he had to say for himself. He expressed just how much he missed me and discovered I had moved away, but avoided mentioning the elephant in the room and vanished yet again when I mentioned how badly his behavior hurt me a year prior without offering any apology. The only closure I was able to take away from that encounter was that nothing had truly changed. He was still behaving in dysfunctional ways, and I was yet again left to spiral in my emotions as a result of his patterns of emotional immaturity, cowardice and avoidance.
Closure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. As great as you think it will feel to hear an ex boyfriend say he regrets losing you, closure typically doesn’t show up when or how you want it to. I have always resented how pop psychology emphasizes the importance of creating closure and forgiveness for yourself because I find that idea to be much easier said than done and that it disregards the inherent desire we have of reaching a just ending to a painful experience. But, truthfully, pop psychology may be onto something. Hearing an ex you still care about say “I miss you” is a beautiful fantasy until it happens and you’re still left standing with your same, tired suitcase of unanswered questions, asking yourself, “Is that it?”
