The Myth of Closure

Adapted from a newsletter written by Katie Webb, LPC- Associate

We often hear that closure is the key to healing.

It’s the reassurance we’re offered after a breakup, the advice given when people don’t know what else to say, the elusive endpoint we chase when something painful upends our lives. We imagine that if we can just find closure, we will finally be free of the ache and be able to move forward without looking back.

But is closure even real? Or at least, is it real in the way we’ve been led to believe?

The Reality of Healing

Closure implies finality—a sense of completion, a clean break, and a fresh start. But real healing doesn’t follow such a neat and simple trajectory.

We all know this is true; grief doesn’t operate on a predictable timeline, and yet we seem to always be surprised every time we expereince a fresh wave of grief.

Grief, loss, and heartbreak are all unique to each person, and they don’t always resolve the way we hope. Sometimes, they remain as open wounds. They may soften over time, we may learn to live with the new reality, but they never fully disappear. And perhaps, that’s not a sign of failure or stuckness...but of deep love, desire, and meaning in our lives.

The Weight of Expectation

The expectation of closure can create its own kind of suffering.

When we believe we should be “over it” by now, we add shame to our grief. 

When we wait for a feeling of finality that never comes, or try to "rise above" our wounds, we may hold ourselves back from living fully and authentically in the present. 

The truth is, we don't get over some losses; they become part of who we are. 

Instead of seeking closure, what if we learned to carry our losses differently? What if we sought to tend to them, rather than fix them?

What if healing wasn’t about moving on from the past, but about learning to live alongside it? About weaving our experiences into the fabric of who we are, rather than striving for freedom from the pain?

Rethinking Healing

Closure may be a myth, but healing is possible. 

It just looks less like shutting a door and more like learning how to keep walking forward, holding the weight of what we’ve lost, perhaps tenderly.

If we let go of closure, can we instead give ourselves permission to be changed?