Closure Is Overrated in Breakups

We’ve all heard it — “I just need closure.” It sounds evolved. Grounded. Emotionally intelligent. But if we’re being honest, most of the time closure isn’t about healing. It’s about control.

It’s the quiet hope that if we can just get one more conversation, one more explanation, one more perfectly worded apology, the ending will feel different. Cleaner. Fairer. Less humiliating. We tell ourselves we want understanding, but what we really want is to edit the last chapter. We want to adjust the tone. Add context. Maybe even sneak in a plot twist where they suddenly realize our value.

Life doesn’t work like that.

Not every relationship gets a final speech. Not every breakup ends with mutual insight and cinematic clarity. Sometimes the lesson is the ending. Sometimes the way someone walks away is the explanation.

We struggle with that because incomplete narratives make us uncomfortable. Our brains crave resolution. We want the missing piece. The why. But good decision-making — the kind that actually leads to peace — requires tolerating ambiguity. It requires accepting that you may never fully understand someone else’s motives, and that you don’t actually need to.

You don’t need a beautifully structured apology to move forward. You don’t need them to admit they were wrong. You don’t need them to validate your version of events. What you need is acceptance — not of what they did, but of what is.

There’s a difference.

Chasing closure often means staying emotionally attached to someone who already showed you their character. We ignore what was demonstrated and obsess over what might be explained. But explanations don’t override behavior. If someone left carelessly, that carelessness is the closure. If they avoided hard conversations, that avoidance is the answer. If they chose convenience over commitment, believe the choice.

Here’s the part no one likes to admit: sometimes we seek closure because we want reassurance that we mattered. We want proof the relationship was real. But your worth was never dependent on their final text message. 

Peace doesn’t arrive in a perfectly crafted paragraph from them. It arrives in a decision from you.

The final decision to stop rereading old messages.
The final decision to stop rehearsing imaginary conversations.
The final decision to accept that not every story gets tied up neatly (see "The Sopranos").

Closure isn’t something they give you. It’s something you practice.

Most of the time, it looks less like a conversation — and more like moving on without one.

Then of course, some of you claim to want closure because you want one more argument.  LOL! That's a blog post for another day. 

We Don’t Argue Anymore—We Perform

Remember when a disagreement was just that—a disagreement? Two people, maybe more, hashing things out over coffee, a kitchen table, or a group text that hadn’t yet turned into a battleground. Back then, the goal was clarity. Understanding. Maybe even compromise. Now? Every disagreement feels like a dress rehearsal for a TED Talk nobody asked for.

We’re not debating to understand—we’re auditioning for validation.

Scroll through any comment section and you’ll see it: folks aren’t trying to make sense, they’re trying to make noise. Every podcast clip, every stitched reaction, every “hot take” is less about truth and more about applause. It’s not “What do you think?” anymore—it’s “Watch me win.” 

We used to argue to sharpen ideas. Now we argue to trend.

And let’s be honest: it’s not about being right—it’s about being seen as right. The loudest voice usually wins, not the wisest one. The algorithm doesn’t reward nuance. It rewards volume. Certainty. Swagger. Even if it’s the dumbest thing anyone has ever seen, heard, or read.

But here’s the thing: strong thinkers don’t need an audience to be right.

They don’t need likes, shares, or followers to make sense. What they need is logic, patience, and humility—the kind of qualities that don’t get you clicks but do earn you respect. The kind of mindset that says, “I’m here to learn, not just to be heard.”

Real maturity shows up when you care more about understanding than winning. At one time understanding was the goal, right?

When you listen without rehearsing your rebuttal. When you can say, “You might have a point,” instead of “You just don’t get it.” That’s grown-folk energy, Church. That’s the kind of conversation that builds bridges instead of burning them.

Because grown folks don’t perform—they process. They listen to gain perspective. 

They don’t argue for show—they discuss for growth. They know that being loud isn’t the same as being clear. That being viral isn’t the same as being valuable.

We just have to start listening again. Not for the applause. Not for the retweets. But for the kind of understanding that doesn’t trend—but lasts. Viral is temporary. Value is forever.

Thank God for Growth!

I started this blog over a decade ago.  Every now and then, I'll go back and read some of my older posts just.  Sometimes I find myself laughing at loud at a story that I barely remember today.  Other times, I smack myself in the head and say, "What were you thinking?".

So many things that I believed years ago I don't believe now.  And even if I do believe in them, I now have a different approach to it.

I've always tried to take an old school approach when it came to solving problems in society.  I still believe that approach can work more times than not.  But some of the things I said in previous posts were harsh and therefore rendered ineffective because I was trying to enforce an old school approach in a new school society.  That tends to make things worse.

Thankfully, I now understand that finger-pointing is no longer the way to instill accountability.  Even if it's true, it doesn't make it helpful to people to get it thrown in their faces.  I've learned to take a different approach to things.  As much as I hate sugar-coating the truth, it's simply something we have to do in today's fragile society.  And I can't take back anything I posted years ago, but I can atone for them with a changed approach.

It's amazing how a person's mindset can change simply by continuing to live.  Of course, it takes an open mind, but it can be done if people allow it to happen.  I'm glad that it happened to me.  13 years later this blog still exists and it continues to show the progress I've made as an individual.  

Thank God for growth and Happy 13th birthday to my blog.  I have a teen-ager now.