Closure Is Overrated — Choosing Yourself Instead

Welcome back to 60 Street. I’m Andie and in this episode we unravel why closure isn’t the healing cure we’ve been taught to chase—and how, psychologically, our brains crave answers even when they keep us stuck. If you’ve ever found yourself replaying conversations, waiting for clarity, or holding onto the hope that one last talk will fix everything, this conversation is for you. Together, we explore why true healing doesn’t come from being understood by someone else, but from choosing yourself, setting boundaries, and reclaiming your peace. 

Transcript

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Hey beautiful souls, welcome back to 60 Street. I'm Andy, and I'm so glad you're here. Today we're going to unpack why psychology says our brains crave closure, why chasing it often keeps us stuck, and why emotionally unavailable men are so confusing, addictive, and hard to leave, even when they hurt us. So grab your journal, pour yourself a cup of tea, and let's talk about closure. You know the advice everyone throws around like it's a spa treatment for the brokenhearted. You just need closure. Call him and get closure. Have one last conversation so you can move on. Let me lovingly say something that might surprise you. Closure is overrated. Psychology explains many of us need what is called cognitive closure. Why? Because our brains dislike uncertainty. We want answers, explanation, and a story that makes sense. And uncertainty causes our nervous system to go into overdrive, searching for a reasonable explanation or even a way to rationalize our broken heart. You think, if I could just understand why, if he would admit and just apologize, things could be different. But here's the truth. Unhealed emotionally unavailable people rarely give clean endings. Confusion is part of the cycle. Many of them don't understand it themselves. This is why they are unhealed. And when we go back seeking closure, we often walk right back into manipulation, get pulled back into the uncertainty of the unhealed partner. And here's something to consider. Waiting for closure keeps you emotionally tethered, replaying conversations, drafting texts you'll never send. Imagine the speech you'll give when he finally gets it. And that line of thinking is well a fantasy. Because seeking closure from someone who thrives on ambiguity is like asking the ocean to stop making waves. Countless relationship studies highlight that the pursuit of closure often re triggers the very trauma bond we are trying to escape. Our seeking closure re triggers our emotional avoidance, our coping mechanisms. Instead of grieving what was or what never was, we focus on getting closure, on being understood. But healing doesn't come from being understood or solving a mystery. It comes from accepting and trusting in yourself. So let that sit for a moment. Let's talk about why it's so hard to leave the emotionally unavailable man. You know the charming one, the inconsistent one, the one that says I'm not ready, but I care deeply about you. The one who disappears, then reappears over and over again. Psychology describes this dynamic as something called intermittent reinforcement. It's the same feel good hormones released in the brain when you're gambling. It's exciting when you win, even though you don't win every time, you win just enough to stay hooked. Now let's apply that mindset to the emotionally unavailable man. He gives you affection, then withdraws, returns, says things you want to hear, then leaves again. He does this just enough to keep you. The result? We become addicted to the anticipation. Hmm. Think about Carly Simon's spirited song of the romantic situation in which nobody has any idea of what's going on or what's going to happen. That unpredictability creates a trauma bond. Many women, especially empathetic, emotionally intelligent women, fall into what therapists call the exception fantasy. It's just like it sounds. You believe you'll be the one who heals him, the one he wholeheartedly chooses because you love him so much. Sadly, emotionally unavailable men return not for commitment, but for comfort, validation, safety, the very things they didn't give you. They come back because you're safe, familiar, low risk until you ask for clarity, consistency, accountability, then poof, gone again. And our nervous system becomes conditioned to these highs and lows. It's the honeymoon phase after the hurt. And that feeling is, well, intoxicating. And here's something to consider. It's called the sunk cost effect. Yes, sunk like the Titanic. Now stay with me here because it's a real term. The sunk cost effect is driven by emotional desire to avoid waste and regret. It's a cognitive bias to continue an endeavor based on previously invested resources. So in other words, we've invested time, effort, energy, hope. And walking away feels like admitting it was all for nothing. But you know what? Here's something I've learned. It wasn't for nothing. It clarified your standards based on your self-respect and the way you value yourself. The lesson is not wasted just because the man was. So let's gently dismantle the fantasy of the final talk. You know the one you imagine yourself having with him, the one you envision him understanding the pain he caused you. Recall, our need for closure is an attempt to be understood. But let me say this gently. We don't need to be understood. We simply need to act upon our own clarity, our self worth, and knowing. There are some losses that never neatly close. Some wounds soften over time, but they may not disappear. I hear so many women say, If he didn't want me, why does he keep coming back? And it's very confusing. But remember, returning is not the same as committing. He returns to satisfy his needs, not yours. Emotionally unavailable men often circle back when they're lonely, they miss the comfort or sex you provided. They need a boost of validation, and gaining access to you fuels their ego. It's about their regulation, not your worth. And when you deny them this boost with a boundary, it becomes the most powerful form of closure you can have. Because it's grounded in self respect. It's not a speech, not a dramatic exit. It's a clear boundary. Because you stopped auditioning for a role he already showed you he wouldn't cast you in. And that's not bitterness, that's self-respect. Some stories don't wrap up, some apologies never come. Some people never understand the harm they caused. And that has to be enough. The more you accept that some chapters don't close, the more freedom you gain. We stop trying to make chaos make sense. We start asking better questions. Does this relationship feel peaceful, respectful, consistent, safe? When respect and trust have vanished, that is your closure. And it requires you choosing yourself. You rebuild your identity outside of the chaos. Retrain your nervous system to associate love with calm, not confusion. Closure isn't something he gives you, it's something you take. You hold the line on your worth, happiness, your joy. Say to yourself, This behavior is not aligned with my peace. I don't need him to agree with my experience. And I choose myself. And that decision repeated daily becomes your freedom. Before we part ways, this week in your journal, I invite you to write a closure letter, one you will never send. Say everything. The hurt, confusion, the love you gave, disappointment. And then write. I release what no longer respects me. Let your body feel the finality. Because closure is not a conversation. It's a boundary rooted in self-worth. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is accept that the story didn't end the way you wanted. And close the door. We are not weak for loving deeply, not foolish for hoping, not broken for struggling to leave. But we deserve consistency, respect, and calm. Well, that's all for today. Thank you for cruising down 60 Street with me. If you've been waiting for closure, I hope this episode gently frees you. Share, subscribe, you can always drop me a note at 60street podcast at gmail.com. Until next time, stay wild, stay well, stay unapologetically you.