Let me preface this by saying that I’m not someone who adapts well to change.
Like changing a tire or French braiding my hair, being able to adapt is one of those skills I thought I would just somehow be equipped with by the time I hit nineteen. It was almost as if I thought I could go and pick up the ability at any old gas station convenience store with a cherry slushie and a newspaper.
Don’t get me wrong; new isn’t inherently bad. It’s more that I have a fondness for old things and old relationships that I can’t seem to shake. Just because I might start to dip my chicken fingers in honey mustard doesn’t mean I want to cut ties with hot sauce altogether. Of course I realize that maybe someday I won’t need hot sauce anymore, but I keep it in the cupboard anyway because it’s been a reliable standby in the past and we’ve shared some good times. And anyways, I like to believe that there’s a world where honey mustard and hot sauce can coexist. It’s really the same with people. I want to believe that there’s a place in my life now for the people who were important to me in the past, the people I’ve envisioned to be permanent fixtures in my life.
Maybe the issue is that we aren’t explicitly taught how to deal with things like burning old bridges or completely losing loved ones. Maybe there is no right way to do any of it. Dramas and made-for-TV movies wrap closure in neat little segments down to the minute. By the end of this week’s episode, the heinous crime has been solved, justice has been achieved, equilibrium is restored, and everybody can sleep soundly again. In reality, the US has an absurdly backed-up legal system, and crime victims don’t just recover upon the incarceration of their offender. Even TV for kids teaches that persistence or unwavering dedication to a cause can get them the best prom date or the highest grade in a class. What happens after the credits roll?
Ultimately, closure is just a glorified version of having the last word. You can spend hours trying to convince someone you care for that the relationship you share can be remedied, but that might not change a thing. If that person leaves, you did everything you could. And if they stick around, it doesn’t guarantee that you won’t be having the same conversation again weeks later.
I’m all for second chances. And third, and fourth, if the situation calls for them. However, if you find you’re losing yourself somewhere along the line, maybe consider closing that door. Break-ups and goodbyes can feel like the end of the world in the moment. Psychology will tell you that there are five stages of grief in dealing with loss, but nothing is ever really that linear. Letting go of someone can be impossible when you can’t reconcile the good memories with the bad. There will be days when they don’t cross your mind, and there will be days where your temptation to reestablish that connection vastly outweighs any logic that tells you to keep your distance.
However, a time may come when you meet someone who makes everything so uncomplicated that even bad days with them will be good. Until then, recognize that walking away is sometimes necessary, and that the only real lasting relationship you’ll ever have is with yourself. Don’t let the idea of having a perfect resolution keep you from moving on to the next chapter at your own pace. You’ll be fine.