Once there was a woman who appreciated honesty above all else. She didn’t even believe in the mythical legend of Santa Claus. Her parents didn’t deceive her with the story of a jolly old man who delivered presents to the children of the world in a single night. Magic wasn’t real, and she knew the gifts under the tree every December were from her family. She was as excited as any child on Christmas morning, she just didn’t think a rather large man squeezed down the chimney at midnight. Besides, her house didn’t have a chimney and as an adult she was glad no one tried to convince her of the existence of a man in a red suit who lived in the North Pole.
When people kept secrets from her and she stumbled upon the truth, she never trusted them again. Every time it shattered her confidence into a million pieces. When her heart ached and they betrayed her, her only focus was on examining the reality they hid from her. She spent hours mapping histories to figure out who these people were and what really happened. She analyzed them and studied their behavior, identifying the signs of heartless souls. For a long time, she obsessed over the facts and it was helpful for the purpose of avoiding counterfeits, but it’s impossible to know everything.
We can’t uncover all the answers we are searching for. We may never understand why selfish people use us before tossing us aside without a second thought. We might never successfully diagnose others or figure out what personality disorders they have. Maybe we won’t be able to pinpoint when the relationship started going south. We can waste time trying, but we won’t be able to find the honest truth behind every lie ever told. And none of it matters, anyway.
If a friend knocks on your front door and you open it to discover they are bleeding out from a severed artery, you will not begin interrogating them about the cause of their injury. You aren’t going to look around to find the source of the wound or try to find the weapon that cut them by running up and down the street, leaving your friend to die on your doorstep. You will not make them wait until you find the person who hurt them and ask why or how they did it. You wouldn’t tell your friend to stand by as blood is pouring out of their body because you must recognize the truth first and the person responsible must apologize before going to the hospital. In that moment, time is of the essence. The top priority is treating the wound, not searching for answers.
Similarly, when we are hurting, it doesn’t matter why the person wounded us. We need not await an apology before going to the metaphorical or physical hospital. We can heal without having our questions answered. We can move forward and create a better life for ourselves, far away from people who injured us again and again. Sometimes we are asking the wrong questions, anyway.
If we want to heal, it is time to ask the tough questions about ourselves. How am I missing the warning signs and letting people blindside me? Or maybe I’m ignoring the red flags altogether. Why didn’t I see them for the con artist they were? What made me fall for their shallow act for so long? Why did I forgive them without waiting to see if they were truly repentant? What do I need to change within myself?
For me, I’m trying to figure out why I thought it was normal for a man to stare at me with expressionless eyes when I was crying. He was emotionally unavailable, never once genuinely vulnerable with me, and I didn’t question what was wrong with the scenario. In my mind it was normal. What made me accept this behavior and how do I change so it doesn’t happen again?
If you or someone you know is hurting mentally or physically, please don’t get stuck asking questions. If they need help, help them. Be there for them and support them. If you need help, ask for help. You don’t need answers to move forward and you don’t have to know everything to heal. Sometimes our idea of closure is a trap. Pause, focus on restoring your mind, and learn to trust yourself and others again. Then work toward a better life and become stronger than you were before.
The Trap of Closure
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