Getting closure and... hang on why did I even hit the publish button?

Closure. If you're a Friends fan, you'll remember the scene well. You know the one. Ross is dating Julie. They're getting a cat. Rachel likes Ross. Rachel needs to move on. She needs closure. There's a drunken phone call. And a voicemail. When I first saw it, I had just turned a very mature ten years old. I had no idea what the hell Rachel was on about. Until I grew up, closure was just a scene in an episode.

It's not made up. Closure is actually recognised as a psychological need for a solid, definite answer to a question. And if that question is 'why', closure will be hard to find. Because very often, there's no good answer. Without it, it can feel like you're life's at a bit of a standstill. And even if someone offers you it, it still might not be enough, or what you want/need to hear. If you're denied it, it can eat away at you. An open question can't easily be closed.

So herein is going to be my most open post to date. And you can bet your bottom quid I'll be closing my eyes when I press publish (thanks to Charl for the push).

I was in a relationship. At first, it was everything I wanted. The man was a far cry to previous others. Generous. Kind. We would speak on the phone for hours about sheep in circled fences, and the stars, and Fibonacci and other really geeky things no boy had ever been interested in before. He would drive through the night to sleep on the living room floor and surprise me with a red rose in the morning. We would spend time talking in the park, mug of steaming hot coffee warming the freezing air around us. We'd play video games, go shopping, be normal.

Skip forward six years, and it was failing. My life wasn't my own. I did what was expected of me. I denied myself happiness to make other people happy. And then the bombshell. He looks back and knows he didn't love me. Why would he, I tell myself. The first time he said those words, in a car in my hometown, he admitted it wasn't true.

If you've been in that situation - and I believe there are far more of us out there than anyone will ever know - you'll know that life turns from colour to grey. Dreaming is sometimes better than having to wake up and face reality. And daydreams, of living abroad, of a past life lost, of an afternoon phone call just to say hello and see how you are, or whatever it is that gives you solace, are the only things that keep you relatively sane.

Of course, dreams are as real as a thought - they're in your head until something's done to make them reality. So while you stand there hoping, believing, things will get better, sometimes all you can do is cry. Cry agonising tears of pain and hurt from the bottom of your stomach. Cry so much you no longer make a sound.

You sob, quietly.

Then you stop.

You fix your make up, untuck your hair from behind your ears because it makes you look ugly and he physically shudders seeing you like that. You fix that smile on your face. The one no one, not even your mother, knows is fake, and you carry on pretending life is as it should be as best you can. You lie to yourself. It makes it easier to lie to others.

When it ended - the way it ended I'll never excuse in any way, I was wrong and hurt everyone I knew, twice - when it ended and after the fallout, I felt free. I could look back and realise it wasn't right, it wasn't fair for either of us. I started to build a new life.

But memories of that relationship were hard to let go of. Songs I still can't listen to, I don't dare listen to. Movies I can't watch, programmes I cant stand. I felt guilt. I felt responsible. I felt should have tried harder. Should have just carried on and lived with my lot in life - after all, I chose it. It was all my fault. I should have made it better.

Then, a few weeks ago, I unexpectedly, and extremely painfully, got the closure I needed to let go of the past.

The memories, I know, will always be there. There are happy times I'll always treasure and remember. And those are the ones I'll choose to keep. Because closure means I can seal that box. I will always feel a strange sense of attachment towards him - a mix of love and hate and pity and fury and protectiveness and admiration. But that chapter of my life is over. And I can honestly say, I hope he's happy. Because as much as we failed, he deserves far, far better than what he had from me. I'm not going to listen to Beyonce or go all Swift and claim he'll never do better than what we had, because he will. And I'd want him to. It's nice to be able to say that, and mean it with every fibre in my body.

The new year is in full swing. In 2014 I leave the past behind me and see what awaits, with a new person by my side. Because my future is back in my hands.

So this is my closure, words I can say with a genuine smile on my face and no resentment left in me, words to the person I hurt and have been hurt by, who I once loved and who once loved me: I know you've finally found your happiness, and if it's with her, perhaps you two were meant to be all along. Perhaps I was the odd piece of the puzzle, trying to fit where I didn't belong. For everything I did, I'm sorry. So travel, laugh, be happy just like you said. Meet new people, sing new songs, make all the delicious food. Live the life you want to live now, and in the future.

For everyone else, that Friends episode ended the way we all wanted it to end. But life doesn't work the way we want all the time. So even if you never get closure, or if what I've written rings true in any sense, know you're not alone. Sometimes the story will never have a The End. Sometimes trapped is trapped. But you're never alone.

Man, closure feels good.