In the aftermath of something important to our life story—a relationship, a job, a home, a trauma—we often long for closure. The desire for firm answers is hardwired into human cognition; when we lack a clear resolution, anxiety and rumination can intensify. We naturally want clarity: a conclusive understanding of why things happened and what it means for us, our story, or our future.

Our minds and hearts yearn for something that makes sense of what happened and gives us permission to move forward, and often we look to the people from our past to provide this validation. Perhaps we are hoping for an apology or an explanation, but one way or another we often find ourselves believing that closure is something that belongs to the other people who belong in our story; if only they’d be willing to sit down with us and give us closure, we would be free.

Finding resolution with people who have hurt us can indeed alleviate psychological distress, but what can we do when that person is unwilling or unable to be part of our healing?  And what can we do when we’ve heard their perspective, but there is still a lingering gap between knowledge and acceptance?

Closure is a process—sometimes a painful and complicated one—that we can give ourselves, even in the face of confusing answers and shut doors. Recently, I discovered how a loving community can aid in finding closure. If you’re at a loss in your own search for resolution, here are some steps you might find helpful.

Step 1: Name the wounds

Loss can feel so big and all-consuming, and putting words to the wounds can help it seem more manageable.

Get as specific as possible with yourself about what hurts, and where you feel that hurt. For example, if you experienced a break up, what are the specific roles that person played in your life that now are going unfulfilled?  When you feel the pain of that loss, where in your body do you feel it?  At what times of day, or in what other contexts is the pain most excruciating?

When I support clients through break-ups, one of the most common pain points they mention is the feeling of being alone with shared memories and dynamics that were unique to the relationship that was lost.  Other folks mention a sense of betrayal, shame or guilt about the end of their relationship.  

What are three to four things that hurt the most about what has been lost?

‍Step 2: Brainstorm antidotes

Once you have words for what’s been lost, you can imagine balms to soothe those wounds. Get creative! If you lost a partner, you can’t replace them, but you can identify the key functions that the partnership served and brainstorm other ways to meet those needs.

Below are a few examples of wounds and possible antidotes:

• Shame (“I did something wrong”) → Equanimity (“What’s done is done”)
• Loss of dreams for the future (“I don’t know what lies ahead”) → Ideating about new possibilities (“I can still imagine a future without this person, place, or thing”)
• Guilt (“I am burdened by what I did or did not do”) → Self-Compassion (“I allow myself to be human and make mistakes”)
• Isolation (“I feel disconnected from others”) → Belonging (“I seek spaces that welcome and uplift me”)
• Grief (“I lost someone or something important, and I feel it deeply”) → Meaning-Making (“I honor what was lost and integrate it into my story”)

Step 3: Invite your community into the process

Many of these antidotes become more powerful when practiced in community. During a recent breakup, I missed starting my day with a “good morning” text from my ex. I recognized the loneliness of mornings and wanted to feel more connected. After talking it through with a close friend, she offered to send me morning texts for a few weeks to soften the early stages of grief. This small gesture made a significant difference in my sense of belonging.

If what you miss isn’t as concrete as a morning text, you can use ritual or symbolism to support the grieving process. If you’re grappling with shame, for instance, you might talk about it with trusted friends or family, reminding each other that loss is natural and rebirth is possible.

When trauma causes you to question whether your pain is real, a trusted community can mirror your experience back to you: “Yes, this happened, and it was important.” The person who hurt you may not give you the words you need, but they likely weren’t the only witness to your story. Who else was on the sidelines and can recall the good, the bad, and everything in between—so you don’t have to hold it alone?

The Empowerment of Community-Given Closure

It can be deeply painful when closure isn’t available from those we desire it from most, but it can also be powerful to notice that your healing is not in the hands of only one person. Community grieving practices have been long practiced by many cultures as a way to heal, and we can begin building rituals with our own circles by being vulnerable about the wounds that need tending.

Community-based healing is not only beneficial for the person who has been hurt; it is a connective process that helps those who care about you feel part of your story: past, present, and future.

Photo Credit: The Traitors