Closure

Closure is a funny thing. 

At first glance, it seems like something we can achieve *only if* the other person is present; if they are there, at the table, telling us to our face why they did what they did, explaining how they feel. So if I can't talk with them in person, there is no closure. Right?

...That Person who wronged us, or blamed us, or left us.

Yet if we take a second look, we find that perhaps we can execute this 'closure' thing totally on our own. Because surely they can't or won't always be able to be present. What if they passed away? Or what if they are now living so far away that we are guaranteed to never see them again? Or we just know that they won't respond and say yes to a final, affirming (and thereby healing) conversation? That they simply don't have the capacity to show up?

Thankfully, there are practices - methods - for achieving closure all unto one's self. Without requiring the physical presence of The Other Person.

Ways through which we can achieve resolution, regardless of the other person's absence.

We can take several tacks to approach and attain full closure on our own. For example:

**we can write a letter to That Person expressing how we feel and stating what we would have said, if given just one more chance to say it. At least this way, we have expressed it- we have moved it *out* of our physical body and on to the paper, to be released;

**we can dance around the living room to all those songs that remind us of 'them', dancing freely and openly, with all our anger and all our love- and stomp out our final messages to the driving rhythms of the music;

**we can sing a prayer up to the heavens, asking for grace to enter us and help us understand why they did it, and to help us eventually forgive them; using our voice to ask our own sweet higher soul to ease our path so that we can get-used-to-being-without-them; perhaps even until we are moved to the point of tears. And can begin to hold a softer, more compassionate stance towards them, thereby alleviating some of our pain;

**we can journal, we can scream, we can paint or otherwise find ways to articulate the precise message that would nourish us, had it been spoken by That Other Person. Those magic words we so long to hear.

What would we say? What would we scream at them, if given the chance? What would we ask for, or declare, in our unrestricted honesty?

So that we can finally move forward from that last heart-felt (and possibly painful) chapter of our life and into the next chapter, without them in the picture.

Funny thing is, {clearing my throat}, I know all of this schtuff. I am aware of these alternative methods of gaining that oh-so-precious feeling of completion - even when the other person won't or can't show up. I have taken WHOLE WORKSHOPS in this! Ha.

Joke's on me.

'Cuz here I am, late-night, finding myself giving in to sending 'him' a text, asking to get together "for the sake of CLOSURE."

{insert dramatic drum beat}. 

Why would I DO that? Why on EARTH would I text him and request to see him? When the way he ended our relationship was soooo completely below-the-belt, his words rife with judgment and criticism of me? Blame, shame and every other type of projection showed up. Why the H*LL would I even want to contact him again?

Because. 

{sigh}.

Here are the reasons I've come up with, in these last few minutes since sending him that oh-so-vulnerable text message, as to the possible motivations for why I sent that text. When I knew, as I hit the Send button, that it would be an epic fail on my part. That he would *not* respond.

(1) because I don't want it to be over. 

[Seriously, I KNOW that it is over, and that it needs to be over - that we are no longer a match and that I should just move on. But I'm being really honest here, so I gotta ask myself: what if I DO have some 

deeply-buried subconscious voice that still wants to cling to the past, that doesn't want to let him/Us go?, despite the obvious misalignment of our priorities and values?];

(2) because I'm friggin' stubborn as all get-out, and that rather intense part of me is stomping my feet and declaring that I will GET MY CLOSURE with you, damnit!;

(3) because in my heart of hearts I knew before I hit the Send button that he will *not* reply, that I'm barking up the wrong tree. A Challenge: will you dare to show up for a final conversation with me? Me, the person to whom you used to say "I love you"? The one to whom you made many sweet promises? 

Or are you chicken shit. 

{throwing down the glove}. What say you now, Oh Silent One? 

Because the person who *would* be willing to show up and have an honest conversation to 'close' things, is the same person who would have chosen to stay with the relationship in the first place.

To face their fears (and mine), together. To meet me and meet himself and be part of that 'Us' thing together, with a lot of willingness and a little courage. THAT person would be willing to have regular talks about what's going on between us just like they would be willing to have an uber-transparent talk now, about our ending.

So I'm beating a dead horse. (Obviously). 'Cuz if he couldn't show up before, while we were together, he certainly can't show up now. 

{sigh}. 

I guess I need to go "do" my own closure, now. À la previously-mentioned methods. Because he's not gonna reply to my message.

Good thing I know how!

***

There's Healthy Boundaries, and then There's Love.

I thought I knew all about healthy boundaries. I thought I knew where to draw the line as to how I will be treated vs. how I *won't* be treated. I wasn't gonna settle anymore! Yay, me!

Right?

I studied co-dependence. I studied 'healthy, conscious relationships'. I worked eagerly on healing the co-dependent tendencies in me. I did my homework; I read all the books ... about 'being enmeshed' in relationship (yuk!), vs. being in a 'good, healthy, conscious partnership' (yay!). I learned how to discern when it was "my stuff" coming up, vs. "your stuff", coming up. To not take it so personally. 

And not just for myself! For others, too. I got so talented at advocating for "healthy boundaries" with my life-coaching clients and with my good friends that I became pretty well-known for holding such a clear line. For my clarity: 

"Get out! Leave this relationship, now! You deserve better!" was my battle cry. And I proclaimed it with everyone. 

So proud of myself, I was, for how far I had come, given the typically codependent relationships I witnessed in my adult years. Pat myself on the back! 

And I wanted all my cherished friends to *also* proclaim such clear boundaries, for their own sakes.

But then I fell in love. Deeply, devotedly, in love. {sigh}.

And in the blink of an eye, my alleged "standards" about 'what I would put up with', - what level of bad behavior I was willing to tolerate, - and what I wasn't, shifted. Dramatically.

I had seen things as 'so black-'n-white', before. But now it started to dawn on me that there are several shades of grey, in between.

Because love - LOVE - that irrefutable, inimitable force, showed up in my life. And you can't help who you love, as they say. Nope - ya can't.

So, despite all previous training, despite any experience I'd had with keeping myself 'safe' and independent, I just LOVED. With all my heart. With all my soul. I gave it everything. Boundaries, be gone!

Suddenly my feeble attempts at self-protection no longer mattered. This thing, this partnership - this amazing and interesting and handsome person in front of me -suddenly mattered way more to me than any previous model at maintaining my highly-coveted independence. Love, and loving him, and serving 'Us', became more important than keeping myself safe. I was willing to face whatever being-in-love brought to the surface.  And face it together!

So, I went for it. I moved in. To his house. And tolerated extreme discomfort. To say the least! 

I let myself experience the whole gamut of "triggers", of fight-or-flight activations:  "I'm not good enough" came up for me, along with "What's wrong with me that I'm not lovable?" What had happened, what had changed, since our magical auspicious beginnings?

Ugh! Ever been there? (Rolling my eyes). 

LOVE itself was now demanding a higher accountability of me. It didn't care that I wanted to stay safe, nor independent, nor free. 

It wanted me - begged me, in fact - to shift my perspective: to see what it meant to remain constant in my love, despite being on the receiving end of 'bad behavior', like when his shadow-side reared its ugly head; when his fears got the best of him - despite his big, wonderful heart that I knew lie underneath these behaviors - and blamed me disproportionately for the glitches in our relationship.

I found myself on the receiving end of his criticism and fault-finding. Ouch! Could I remain devoted, in the face of such harshness? Despite it? Yikes!!

Could I remain devoted to him and to this magical beautiful 'Us' for a bigger reason? For a higher, more divine experience? Much like Rumi, with his undying devotion to The Beloved. This person, this Beloved, was now in my life to teach me that sometimes there is something deeper going on, despite my little human self and my little human fears. Even when I couldn't see it; even when it didn't fit my afore-to-ascribed boundaries. Even when it seemed hurtful. Could I just STAY? And be present, with the triggers, with the fears, with the difficult parts? Could I just keep breathing, and face it? And not turn away?

So - in a nutshell- I have recognized that Love weaves a "horizontal" line in our lives, like a thread in a beautiful tapestry; it presents a certain steadfastedness, a constancy. An unwavering thread, (from left-to-right is how I see it), rather than the more 'vertical' connection to above-and-below. That's easy, that spiritual thing; connecting 'up', connecting with God. Check.

...but the human connection? The grounded, practical, real life, mundane, day-to-day, living-together, horizontal thing? That's harder. More personal. More in-your-face.

The good news from this is what I learned: that I do, indeed, *want* that thread. That love. That constancy. 

That connection that remains strong and doesn't waver, despite any daily missteps and miscommunications. 

I want that sense of knowing that whatever 'we' go through, day in and day out, up/down/

up/down, is all just serving a grander scheme, a bigger, broader purpose. That our dedication to each other is not just about the two of us, one-plus-one-equals-two... but rather, is part of weaving a bigger tapestry that is more than the sum of its parts. To keep weaving that thread, to continue to serve something greater than just the two of us: the Divine. 

An idea by which I am both humbled and inspired.

So, forget those black-n-white boundaries to which I had previously held! I'd rather have the long-term constancy of dedicated Love - even with the effort that such dedication requires, even with the journey into dark places to which it may take Us - because I want to serve Love. I'm ready. 

Are you ready? 

It doesn't require that you are 'perfect', nor 'done', with your work on yourself; it just requires that you are (1) willing and (2) courageous. Willing and courageous enough to face it. Face it all. 

You're either in, or you're out.

I'm in.

***

The Anger Stage [of Grieving]--

Funny how you can believe that you are done with the more "edgy" stages of grief, and have now arrived at the softer, more forgiving aspects of Acceptance -- you coulda sworn you were "past the worst of it", and starting to come out the other side. Into a brighter, lighter place. 

-- But then you suddenly find that you aren't through the worst of it. Because here it is again. 

Here's that anger, standing up strong inside you and wanting to scream to be heard. That anger at "him", your ex-.

["HOW CAN YOU not be calling me? How is that possible? After everything we had together?!?!"]

...And you can judge yourself for feeling angry again; you can beat yourself up  ["Surely it's been long enough now, Tina? How long is this grieving shit gonna last?"]

Or instead, you (I) can allow this disappointment and rage to course through your veins, acknowledge it, write about it. Because you've been paying attention, you've been doing your homework about all these supposedly "yucky" emotions, and you are self-aware enough that you don't want this particular experience to leave you with deep wounds that you bury in the hidden places within your soul, to fester and solidify, to become hardened and thereby affect you at a later date. Noooo, not that again!

So, you face it.

You face this anger. You allow yourself to *feel* this disappointment.

So you take advantage of this opportunity to feel it all. And you write down what you would say, to him, (your ex-), if given the chance. True, he probably *won't* be there on the other end to receive it, yet you still feel liberated by having expressed it. So here goes. Here's my heart's truest expression, tonight:

"Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!?!

You can't see how fucking amazing I am?

You can't *see* how I always get my shit together, even after you dumped me? How I have marched forward with my own life- despite having moved to a new town, without any friends nor any support system already in place - yet I'm still rockin' it?

Now, I have that job, I have those new activities and those new friends. Those things that would have made you look upon me with oh-so-approving eyes.

But according to your unspoken expectations, it's too late. It all came too late. Cuz you're not contacting me.

You can't be open enough and soft enough and vulnerable enough and brave enough, to ask ME how *I* am doing? To see if I'm re-balanced now (while you went away) and 

back to my own center that you *might* wanna consider spending time with me again?

Nope.

You're so wrapped up in your self-protection mechanisms that you can't even for ONE second consider me, consider where *I* might be at. 

{Harumph!}

Sigh...

I feel for you. Honestly, I do.

I feel for you, there in your small cave; I feel for you, stuck there in your self-perpetuated world of detachment and isolation. I feel sad, for what it must be like, to be you. 'Cuz now, even though you might be feeling pretty damn righteous, you are still alone.

And I friggin' ROCK. 

And I am right here, still in *your* town. So nearby that it would take but a mere phone call, to see me again. But you can't do it, can you? You can't reach out?

I am rockin' it, without you. I even have a new look (had my long hair chopped off); I even have a new RING on my finger. A beautiful shiny silver wedding-band-ring which I bought for myself to replace the one you gave me. I love how it gleams in the light. And how it is so 'clean' of any past energies, of any connotations of 'you'.  I bought it for myself, because I got tired of wearing the ring that *you* bought me; it felt like too bittersweet of a memory of Us. Which clearly doesn't suit, anymore. And I need to move forward. So I bought myself a new beautiful ring.

Yet, at the same time, I do miss "Us". 

I miss the early days, when we were smitten with each other - with all the promise and potential of "us". When you were mine... and you let me know that I was yours. And when we agreed, on so many important values and beliefs...

And, as corny as it sounds, I even miss the harder parts that came later, between us.  Because I, for one, was willing to keep working on it. To keep tweaking and adjusting, to keep looking at my behavior and shedding the past so that I could be fully and wholly present with YOU, with "us":  to keep learning from and growing *with*, the Other, (you), until we fit together in "real life" the same beautiful way that we had, when it was just beginning and it was all a fairytale romance.

--Goddamnit, how long is this grieving thing gonna go on?--

[abrupt ending]. 

Mind the Gap --

I kid myself that I am merely "minding a gap".

That I am "tending" a finite chunk of time, a specific time defined as The Time Between Knowing Him [being with him] and Knowing Him Again [being with him again]. 

It's the space between our first time together (for several months, not just a brief moment), and our being together again, in the future. 

{Snort!} As if that second part is gonna happen. NOT! 

In England, the signage says Mind the Gap when you are down in the subway tubes and about to step on to the train.

The gap is that uber-risky expanse between you, on your oh-so-safe concrete platform, and the train.

And, also in Europe, there is another connotation of the word "gap":  the year between high school and college, the proverbial Gap Year--  during which you embark upon an adventure, you go see the world.  

So I study the Twin Souls theories, and I find, similarly to this gap idea, that there is typically a 'separation phase' which the Twin Souls will and must endure.

But frankly, I'm not a big fan of this 'separation phase' thing. I want it now. I am ready (so me thinks); I don't want to wait. I have not the constitution to withstand such a dramatic separation phase nor to be patient with "waiting for him to come back to me". Nope. No way. I have too much self-respect, right?!?!

So I should just move on.

Yet, in my grieving (which I thought was done yet keeps popping up to surprise me with sudden tears and deep sadness), I find myself *hoping* that this is merely a "gap"; that we are NOT done. That we *will* meet again and reconcile, and then move forward. Better than we were, and with more of that juiciness and sincerity that we had at that oh-so-beautiful beginning time.

Obviously, I'm in what they call the "denial stage" of the grief process. I know in my head that I need to move on, need to stop thinking about "him" and stop wishing he would find his way back to me, to the heart-connection we once shared. 

Or else, (if I were in the Acceptance Phase of the grief process), I would be writing now about something completely different. Like, my canoe-paddling race that I had, earlier today; or the wonderful evening I spent with friends, just last night.

But I'm not writing about those things, am I?

No. I'm writing (and thinking, and feeling) about Him. Still. Every day, every night, I'm feeling "him", I'm feeling "us". I'm referencing past conversations with him in every other conversation I now have. Damn it! Stop the madness.

It's as if every reference point I have still centers around "him". Places I drive by, remind me of him. Thoughts I have about stupid little things like taking a hot shower or listening to certain music, all have to do with "him", in my brain. It's as if he is still there, still here. Like I'm still having the relationship, even though the relationship is OVER. 

I am shocked by how relentless the remembrances of "him" and "us" are. I could have sworn I was more "done" with all that than my thoughts indicate now.

Surely I am ready to shake this; my former world, my previous identity as "I'm-with-him", he-is-my-guy.

Surely I know in my head that it is time to move on. In all capital letters, like on a giant marquee:  "M O V E  O N, Tina! It's time, girl!"

Yet here I am, still musing on what we had, still referencing internally all those little and big reminders of "him", as I walk through my daily life. Ugh!

...I had no idea that the grieving process was so circuitous, so convoluted, so haphazard.

One minute I'm fine and the next hour I'm shedding tears, missing him (despite his harshly judgmental words to me in our final talks, which my intellect remembers but my heart ignores). I can be totally focused on a specific task (like, paddling as part of a crew in an intense regatta race), yet then find myself pondering what HE would say about the race, as soon as we cross the finish line. 

But it's all totally pointless... all these rememberings and all the warm-hearted welcomes I would have to any communiques from him, are going to get me nowhere. 

Because he's not going to call, he's not going to make amends. It's over. And I need to see that. And stop thinking so much about what we could have, were we to give it another shot. 

{sigh}. 

I have learned SO much, about what I did "wrong", with this last relationship. And I would give a LOT, to get a chance to apply what I've learned, and try again.

But that chance will not come. He is done. And not contacting me.