#224: Ambiguous Loss and Little Certainties

It seems right to be talking about closure, loss and uncertainty now, at least in the Northern Hemisphere, as the days get shorter and we make the shift into Autumn. Although, if you follow the Lunar calendar, where the Harvest Moon has come and gone, you’re already in Fall. I have the thought that perhaps uncertainty is something that we START OFF by being familiar with as children, WELCOME as young adults as we are still deciding our path, and work to MINIMIZE as adults, thinking we should know the answers or have a plan for everything. Here, Lauren explores her own feelings, as well as her discovery of concrete, tangible remedies for those times in life when the uncertainty of loss begins to overtake the surety of expectation.

- Corey

Ambiguous Loss and Little Certainties

There is a word I really don’t like – “closure.” I used to like this word I think. I would use it as justification to spend an inordinate amount of time to replay past experiences and ask, “what went wrong?” I would open up old wounds or go back to people who weren’t good for me – or let people back into my life who were not good to me – in the name of “closure.”
 
But I don’t really think closure…is a thing. A myth. All of those times I have “sought closure,” have I walked away feeling like I have it? Maybe for a moment, but it never lasts.  I heard a story recently about how Anderson Cooper, after 9/11, stopped a journalist from saying New Yorkers needed closure – he said it doesn’t exist.

Psychologist Pauline Boss specializes in helping people cope with loss where there will likely never be “closure” – a missing child, tragic deaths where bodies may not be found. She coined the term “ambiguous loss” – the reality, she says, is that there will always be loss in our life.

This year, I have experienced losses of varying degrees – like I know so many others have. Disappointment – where sometimes I can point and say this is the person or the group or the system that has disappointed me -- and other times I don’t know where to point. My trust levels have gone down as a result – I have felt like I am standing in sand where I thought there was rock. Where we are now, we are likely going to be sitting here for a long, long time – MLK’s quote “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice” rings in my head.

But I take great comfort in the tiny predictable things in life. I know when I hop on my bike and start pedaling, the bike will start moving. I'll be headed across Manhattan to see a friend. I know when I mix flour, water, yeast, and salt and put that mixture in the oven, I will have warm bread to eat with my morning coffee. I know that the sun will rise every morning and set every night. Staying grounded in these certainties is what gives me the strength to stay in the things that are uncomfortable, and find peace amongst the ambiguity of our current moment.