I used to believe that if I could just get one more conversation, one more perfectly worded text, the ache in my chest would disappear.
Maybe you’ve been there too—refreshing your messages, replaying the last interaction, bargaining with the universe for a tidy ending that proves you mattered.
Chasing closure drained my creative energy and, ironically, kept me tied to the very story I wanted to finish.
Learning to redirect that attention has been nothing short of liberating.
The truth is, some doors don’t click shut.
Instead of waiting on a final answer that may never arrive, we can train ourselves to step forward anyway.
Below are six practices that have helped me—and many of my coaching clients—move from restless rumination to quiet confidence.
1. Recognize the illusion of closure
Closure feels like a single event, but it’s really a personal decision.
Waiting for someone else to hand us peace keeps us stuck in their timeline.
As Brené Brown writes, “We run from grief because loss scares us, yet our hearts reach toward grief because the broken parts want to mend.”
When I finally accepted that no apology would rewrite the past, I felt a wave of relief stronger than any message I’d hoped to receive.
The paradox surprised me: releasing the need for answers gave me a clearer view of the lessons the experience had been trying to teach all along.
From that vantage point, the future suddenly felt spacious rather than intimidating.
That relief came the moment I decided to stop rewriting yesterday and start shaping today.
2. Anchor yourself in the present moment
Rumination presses rewind; mindfulness presses play.
A 2025 study in Affective Science showed that moment-long mindfulness prompts—delivered eight times a day through a smartphone app—lowered both rumination and negative mood in real time.
Small, frequent returns to the breath interrupt the mental loop that insists answers live in the past.
Try this: set a silent phone reminder every two hours.
When it pings, inhale for a count of four, exhale for a count of six, and label whatever thought appears as simply “thinking.”
If that feels too mechanical, pair the breath with a sensory cue—touch a cool tabletop, notice the texture, and let that moment be enough.
Repeat this often enough and awareness becomes the new default wallpaper of your day.
Then choose your next action—send an email, stretch, sip water—anything that exists in the present tense.
3. Set gentle boundaries with your mind
My brain loves late-night “solve-it” sessions.
So I give it office hours.
From breakfast until 8 p.m. it can ponder open loops.
After that, the topic is closed for the night.
During evening spikes of anxiety I jot down what’s bothering me, close the notebook, and place it face-down on the shelf.
If the worry is still important tomorrow, it will get its turn.
Surprisingly, most fears lose urgency by morning.
Sticking to those hours trains the mind to respect boundaries just like any colleague would.
Over time, even the most persistent “what if” learns to wait its turn.
Quick check-ins when rumination hits
- Is this thought useful right now or just familiar?
- Have I heard this mental story before?
- What action—however tiny—would move me forward in the next ten minutes?
One honest answer can redirect the whole evening.
4. Turn unanswered questions into values-aligned actions
Research notes that during major life transitions the discomfort often comes from identity limbo—we haven’t yet become who we’re going to be, but we’re no longer who we were.
Naming the limbo helps normalize it; you’re not failing, you’re in transit.
Instead of filling the gap with speculation, build new structure around your core values.
When I left a turbulent job without a proper “good-bye,” I funneled that restless energy into volunteering at a local literacy program.
Each tutoring session reminded me that I value contribution more than validation.
Values act like directional signs when the usual landmarks have been removed.
Ask yourself: What value is being challenged by this unfinished ending—respect, security, belonging?
Then choose one micro-action that serves that value today.
5. Let your body do some of the letting go
Emotional knots tighten in muscles long before they appear in our journals.
A brief yin-style yoga sequence—hips, shoulders, chest—softens the physical holding pattern that keeps old stories on repeat.
According to Mindful.org, pairing movement with an intentional release ritual (for example, exhaling audibly as you drop into Child’s Pose) trains the nervous system to associate surrender with safety, not threat.
Think of it as opening a pressure valve; the story may stay, but its grip on your tissues loosens.
If yoga isn’t your thing, try a brisk walk with deliberate arm swings, a shaking meditation, or three rounds of box breathing.
Once the body signals “all clear,” the mind often follows.
Any practice that shifts you from head to soma counts.
6. Create a personal ritual of completion
Some cultures burn letters; others float paper lanterns downstream.
The form matters less than the felt sense of “this chapter is finished.”
Last winter I wrote the story I’d been chasing on a postcard—every unanswered question, every lingering resentment—then slipped it into my fireplace.
Watching the paper curl, I whispered, “I release you; I reclaim my space.”
A simple closing gesture frees up bandwidth you didn’t realize grief was occupying.
Was the slate totally clean the next day?
No.
But the ritual drew a line between then and now, a psychological threshold my mind could honor.
Even if doubts resurface, you can point back to the moment of release and gently remind yourself the decision is complete.
Choose or invent a ritual that feels sincere: burying a stone, deleting an album, planting a tree, dancing to a single song at dusk.
Let the act mark the moment you stop narrating the past and start authoring the next page.
Final thoughts
Susan David reminds us, “Discomfort is the price of admission to a meaningful life.”
Closure isn’t a door that someone else locks; it’s a doorway we decide to walk through, tolerating the uneasy silence on the other side.
Before you go, ask yourself: What small commitment will anchor that choice tomorrow morning?
Jot it down now—your future self will thank you.
Which of the six practices will you test this week—and what new chapter might finally have room to begin?
Just launched: Laughing in the Face of Chaos by Rudá Iandê
Feel like you’ve done the inner work—but still feel off?
Maybe you’ve explored your personality type, rewritten your habits, even dipped your toes into mindfulness or therapy. But underneath it all, something’s still… stuck. Like you’re living by scripts you didn’t write. Like your “growth” has quietly become another performance.
This book is for that part of you.
In Laughing in the Face of Chaos, Brazilian shaman Rudá Iandê dismantles the myths we unknowingly inherit—from our families, cultures, religions, and the self-help industry itself. With irreverent wisdom and piercing honesty, he’ll help you see the invisible programs running your life… and guide you into reclaiming what’s real, raw, and yours.
No polished “5-step” formula. No chasing perfection. Just the unfiltered, untamed path to becoming who you actually are—underneath the stories.
