When Closure Never Comes

So many of us have been taught that closure has to come from a conversation, a final explanation, or a mutual agreement to end things “the right way.” But what if the truth is this:

Closure isn’t always a two-person ceremony. Sometimes, it’s a solo ritual. A self-reflected release from bonds that no longer serve us.

I had to learn that the hard way.

There were nights I sat with the question: Did I make the right choice for us?
I wondered if letting go was best—for me, for him, for what we once were.
There were days I hated everything he stood for… yet still felt like I had groomed him to be better—for someone else.

We started with the same dreams. Or so I thought.
And somewhere along the way, our paths shifted.
I tried to keep walking with him, even when my spirit was begging me to stop.

There were too many nights spent wondering if he'd come home to me.
Too many moments of doubting if I was enough—while knowing, deep down, that I was asking for something he couldn’t give.

Still, I loved him.
Unconditionally.
And I questioned if he ever truly loved me the same.

Even when I met someone new—someone who saw me in ways he never did—he still haunted me.
His memory lingered in the smallest things.
I compared. I overthought. I reminisced.
I brought the ghost of him into a love that was supposed to be fresh and whole.

And even then, he came back—not to stay, but to remind me that the wound was still raw.

We had history.
We had heartbreak.
We even had a loss I never fully grieved: a child that never came to be.
A dream I carried alone in silence, thinking he wouldn’t want it… only to learn too late that he did.
But by then, the window had closed.
The damage was done.

He built a family with someone else.
Twice.
And I was expected to just… be okay with it.
To still be there for him.
To still love him in silence.

I wrestled with guilt.
With pride.
With the pain of being used, yet always available.
And I kept blaming myself—for how he made me feel.

I was his safe space. His convenience.
The one who always picked up when he called.
But when I needed someone—he was nowhere.

And still, I missed him.

Still, I prayed for clarity.
Still, I asked for signs.
Still, I saw him in my dreams.

But here's what I now understand:

Letting go doesn’t mean the memories vanish. It means they no longer own you.

Closure doesn’t require his apology. It requires my acceptance.

Healing isn’t always pretty—but it’s always worth it.

I sat with the uncomfortableness.
I cried through it.
I screamed through it.
I wrote my way through it.

And finally, I chose me.

Because I deserve to be chosen without conditions.
Without comparison.
Without pain dressed up as love.

So, if you're still waiting for closure from someone who left you bleeding—hear me when I say:

You don’t need them to set you free.

You have that power.

Right now. In this moment.

Choose you.
Choose your peace.
Let go, even if it still hurts.
Release the soul tie, even if it still lingers.

You can still love them… and walk away.
You can still remember… and release.
You can still see them in your dreams… and choose to wake up different.

You don’t need their permission to heal.
You only need your own.

Let this be your closure.

You are your closure.

And that is sacred.

#SoulConfessionBlog