Does 'Closure' Really Exist in Psychology?
The concept of 'closure' is deeply embedded in our cultural and psychological lexicon. When a relationship ends, a loved one dies, or a traumatic event occurs, we often hear the advice to 'find closure.' It's presented as a destination—a final chapter that allows us to move forward with a clean emotional slate. But does this elusive state truly exist, or is it a psychological myth that sets us up for frustration? According to experts in psychology and neuroscience, the answer is more complicated than a simple yes or no. While we crave definitive endings, the human brain rarely experiences them in the way we imagine. One of the central problems with the idea of closure is that it suggests a final resolution. We imagine a moment where the questions are answered, the pain subsides, and the story reaches a neat conclusion. However, research suggests that our brains are not wired for neat endings. When we experience a loss or a disruption, the neural pathways associated with that event remain active. Memories are not stored in a single location but are reconstructed each time we recall them, meaning that the emotional charge can resurface even years later. This biological reality contradicts the cultural narrative that we can simply 'close the door' on the past. Furthermore, the pursuit of closure can sometimes be counterproductive. Many people believe they need external validation or a specific set of answers before they can heal. For example, a person waiting for an apology from a former partner or an explanation from a corrupt employer might feel stuck in a state of limbo. Psychologists note that this waiting game hands control of your emotional well-being to someone else. True healing often begins when we shift the focus from seeking external resolution to creating internal acceptance. This doesn't mean forgetting what happened, but rather integrating the experience into our life story in a way that no longer dictates our present emotions. It is also important to distinguish between 'closure' and 'acceptance.' Closure implies an ending, while acceptance implies a new beginning despite the lack of an ending. In cases of ambiguous loss—such as when a person goes missing without confirmation of death—the inability to find closure is particularly acute. Yet, studies show that people can still find meaning and resilience even in these situations. They learn to live with the uncertainty, holding two contradictory truths simultaneously: hope and grief. This cognitive flexibility is often more healthy than rigidly demanding a resolution that may never come. In the context of grief, the five stages model (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) famously proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross is often misunderstood as a linear path to closure. However, Kübler-Ross herself noted that these stages are not experienced in order and that grief is messy and cyclical. We may feel acceptance on a Tuesday and be back in anger by Thursday. This fluctuation is normal. The expectation that we must reach a 'finished' point can make people feel like they are failing at grieving. Acknowledging that grief is a permanent alteration rather than a problem to be solved is a crucial step toward emotional health. Trauma survivors also grapple with the myth of closure. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) involves the brain's inability to properly process a traumatic event, keeping the person stuck in a state of high alert. For many, 'closure' would require erasing the memory, which is impossible. Therapies like EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) do not aim to delete the memory but to reduce its emotional intensity. The goal is not to close a file on the past, but to make it so that opening that file doesn't cause debilitating pain. This is a subtle but vital distinction. Ultimately, the idea of closure may be a comforting fiction we tell ourselves to manage the chaos of life. It offers the promise of control in situations where we have very little. While there are certainly steps we can take to reduce the distress of unresolved events—such as therapy, ritual, or seeking answers—expecting a total cessation of pain is unrealistic. Instead of asking, 'Have I found closure?' perhaps we should ask, 'How can I live a full life alongside this history?' By reframing the goal from an ending to integration, we can release the pressure to be 'over it' and allow ourselves the grace to simply be with it. This shift allows for genuine growth and resilience, turning a focus on the past into a tool for a more present and engaged future.