Closure

It’s been about one year since I began meeting with a therapist. What a needed journey it’s been. I’m not always sure what we’ll talk about, but we always find something to discuss. Sometimes, we chat about my biological family and how I’m handling things. Sometimes, we talk about my son - is he still having meltdowns, is he getting along with his sister, is he behaving appropriately - and sometimes we touch on other stresses - work, health, the band, etc. I really should have started meeting with a therapist a long time ago. It took me a while to accept that I needed to see a counselor and it took even longer to find the right person. Originally, my wife and I were looking for a new therapist for our son after we moved to Indiana in 2020. Next thing we knew, all four of us were each meeting with the therapist individually (we were new to the whole family counselor idea). So yeah, it’s been helpful. It’s one thing to talk to your spouse or friends about your problems. It’s a completely different thing talking to someone who has experience in handling mental health issues.

It did take me some time to feel comfortable with my therapist. After the first several sessions, I became emotional for the first time while I was meeting with her…”What are the tears for?,” she asked. I told her that I felt alone and wanted others to know that they weren’t alone. Somehow, I had hit the bottom of the well. So many of my songs and journals were about belonging and when it came to my biological family, I didn’t belong. The pain was deep and had cut me to the core. I didn’t feel like my biological family wanted me. I felt discarded like a piece of trash. I felt betrayed. I felt excluded. They made me feel crazy. Through months of therapy, I learned (and began to believe) that I am the healthiest and most free (and sane) person in the family. I’ve chosen to confront the secrets instead of sweeping them under the rug.

Last April, my therapist suggested that I start writing a blog. And so it began…10+ posts later, I can’t quantify how good it has been to sort my feelings out through writing - not to mention the encouraging and overwhelmingly positive feedback from friends and family. I recently read back over my previous posts to gain some perspective. What stood out is how far I’ve come. Less than a year ago, I was obsessed with and stressed out by my biological family. Since then, I’ve been able to work through a variety of hang ups. I’ve been able to deal with many of my issues compartment by compartment. With God’s help, I have somehow managed to get the house in better order by cleaning one room at a time. Each conversation with my therapist (and each blog) has been a baby step forward towards freedom. I no longer feel alone. I am no longer affected when my son compares me to Pepe’ (in fact, my son and I have a much better relationship now). My brother no longer has power over me. I can see how my value system has shifted. My goals have changed. I’m definitely moving in a healthier direction. As I look back, I do wonder how I arrived here.

As with many things in life, this transformation hasn’t happened over night. These changes have taken time, focus and effort, much like exercise takes commitment and repetition. One day, you wake up and realize you look and feel better. So it is with therapy. I’ve practiced positive thoughts. I’ve talked back to the voices. The giants which once looked unconquerable don’t frighten me as they once did.

For months, I’ve been thinking about the topic of closure. What would closure look like? Does closure even exist? Is closure just an idea - a mirage - a sparkling oasis in the distance which can never be reached? I’ve also started to ask myself what I really want. What matters the most? Should I cling to the impossible? Am I still expecting a relationship with my biological family? Do I really think they will eventually believe my son’s testimony? Do I actually think I can convince my nieces or nephews to take a DNA test to prove that my brother is actually my half-brother? As I look back, nothing has changed in regard to my family. No one has reached out to me and I doubt anyone will. In fact, I don’t know that things will ever change - even after my parents pass.

Yet I am changed. I’ve learned that closure isn’t a destination and it’s not a one time event. Closure looks less like a door which has been permanently bolted shut and more like a corridor that’s always slightly cracked open. You walk by the entrance every day, sometimes multiple times and eventually, the curiosity to look inside diminishes. You realize there’s nothing of value behind that door and you remember how looking behind that door felt - the adrenaline…the rush…the let down…the pain…the emptiness. I’ve gone through all the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I’ve discovered that closure doesn’t come without self transformation. For me, it’s been a process of reframing my expectations. Are there days when I feel like I should reach out to my parents? Sure, but I know they don’t want to talk. Do I miss my sister? I do, but after 6 1/2 years, it’s clear that she has nothing to say to me. And then there’s my brother. He will just guilt me, gaslight me and play the same games he’s always played. I wish our family had a relationship with my nieces and nephews. I still remember when our four-year old son met his four-year old cousin adopted from China. There was a bond there which I thought would last a lifetime. However, at this point, my nieces and nephews could probably care less about their uncle, aunt or their cousin who was abused by his grandfather (I don’t blame them as I certainly didn’t think much about my aunts and uncles when I was in my late teens and early twenties).

In any case, there’s good news. I am learning to move on. I still see that door in my peripheral, but I’m practicing the art of focusing elsewhere. I’m building into our kids. I’m trying to give them what I wasn’t given. I’m seeking to be a constant support to my wife (she’s been a trooper through this nightmare). I’m developing new friendships. I’m working on songs which will hopefully make a difference in others’ lives. I’m seeking to shed my cynicism and trust that God is still working and has amazing plans. I’m asking that the Holy Spirit fill me and direct me. I’m also learning to be patient with myself. This is a process. I’m certainly not perfect and I need to remember that I’m going to trip and fall from time to time. Above all, it is reassuring to know that my Heavenly Father is patient with me too and loves me unconditionally.

Photo by Marina Shatskikh