Finding Closure: The Strength in Letting Go

As a counselor, I tell myself that my endless scrolling through emotionally charged content is for my clients. I justify it by saying that the more I expose myself to thought-provoking ideas, the better I can understand human emotions, relationships, and healing. But if I’m honest, my doomscrolling isn’t just about professional growth—it’s about me. It’s about the parts of myself I don’t always acknowledge, the wounds I pretend have healed, and the ghosts of the past that still whisper to me when I least expect it.

It was during one of these late-night deep dives into the abyss of words and reflections that I stumbled upon something that made me pause. It was a simple passage, yet it felt like it had been written for me, like the universe had been waiting for the right moment to hand me the key to a door I had been afraid to close.

I never lost feelings for you
I just realized you didn’t want me, so I gave up.
It wasn’t because my heart stopped caring,
It was because it hurt too much to keep holding on to something that wasn’t mutual.
I had to choose myself even when every part of me wanted to keep choosing you.
I still think about you, though not in the way that makes me sad anymore,
But in a way that reminds me of the love I was willing to give.
You’ll always have a place in my heart, but I’ve learned that love can’t thrive where it isn’t welcomed.
It took strength to let go, not because I stopped feeling,
But because I realized I deserved to be chosen.
Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting.
It means accepting.
I’ve accepted that we weren’t meant to be and that my love will find its way to someone who values it just as much as I do.
For now, I’ll hold on to the lessons, not the pain.

I read it once. Then again. And again.

It was like seeing my own story written in someone else’s hand. A relationship that had ended years ago, but one I had never truly released. I had told myself I had moved on, convinced myself that I was fine. And yet, there I was, holding on—not to the person, but to the idea of what could have been, what I had wanted it to be.

For so long, I had framed my grief around the notion that I had lost something. That I had been left. That something had been taken from me. But those words unraveled that narrative, exposing a truth I had refused to acknowledge—I had given up not because I was weak, but because I was strong. Because I finally understood that love cannot survive in a place where it is not reciprocated. Because choosing myself was the only way forward.

I had been waiting for closure, expecting some grand moment of clarity to come from somewhere outside of me. But closure isn’t something that is given—it’s something we claim. And in that moment, I claimed mine.

I think about my clients, about the people who come to me burdened with the weight of relationships that no longer serve them. And I wonder how many of them are, like me, waiting for permission to let go.

So if you’re reading this and you’re holding on to something—or someone—who no longer holds space for you, I hope you find freedom in these words the way I did. Letting go is not a failure. It is not defeat. It is an act of love for yourself. And that love? It will find its way to where it is truly valued.

For now, hold on to the lessons, not the pain.