Eleven years ago, Pamela Slim lay in bed with pneumonia and contemplated her dread over work. She'd been a training director at a bank in San Francisco, but a recent merger had pushed out her beloved boss and other respected colleagues. "I hadn't been aware of how much my job happiness was connected to the people I worked with," Slim, now 41, says. Slim prided herself on her reputation as a collaborator, but she'd been accused by the new regime of being "uncooperative" for not answering routine questions. "I was just being conscientious—I thought someone else could answer them better," she says today. In the end, she had to slink away like a criminal from a place she'd once loved.
The pain of that ending pushed Slim to think about what she really desired in her work life. She took on a freelance consulting assignment and had a "lightning-bolt revelation" that she wanted to be her own boss; she's now a successful coach to entrepreneurs and cubicle workers contemplating striking out on their own. A year after leaving the bank, Slim staged another getaway—this time from a miserable long-term romance. "It was all connected," she now says.
Why Endings Matter
Departures are loaded with emotion—disappointment in a relationship or job that didn't work out, wistfulness for what is being left behind, joy and anticipation at the prospect of a fresh start.
We remember only a small percentage of life's events, yet beginnings and endings (two sides of the same coin) are far easier to recall than muddled middles. Because they are among the relatively few crystal memories we sustain, final impressions are enormously influential in shaping our life story.
And the story flows better when it is capped by closure—the subjective state that denotes a memory that is no longer emotionally charged. Memories are "open" when recollected with great feeling and "closed" when they don't conjure up much passion, however dramatic the original event may have been. Open memories are the ones we still struggle to understand. We think about them often, and see them as relevant to our current lives. Closed memories, on the other hand, don't haunt us. They are truly past. University of Arkansas psychologist Denise Beike finds that it's not how you end something but rather how you remember it that ultimately counts. Her research shows that dwelling on open memories decreases self-esteem while increasing self-awareness.
"It was really terrible," says Lauren Stapp (name changed) of the way she broke up with someone 20-odd years ago—a memory that haunts her today. "I was going out with this wonderful man whom I really liked. But I decided he was just too old for me. Because I was so fond of him, I wanted my best friend to meet him before I broke it off, so I arranged for us all to have lunch, and then immediately broke up with him. It still bothers me."
Closed memories, on the other hand, free people to pursue other goals, because they aren't bogged down in the past. Closing more of your memories is even good for physical health, Beike says.
We dread good-byes because of the dangers that accompanied change and disruption for most of human history. "Part of our evolutionary development is to be fearful of endings," says Barry Lubetkin, a clinical psychologist and author of Bailing Out: The Healthy Way to Get Out of a Bad Relationship and Survive. "The ultimate ending is, of course, death, but even ending a meal can be blanketed with some anxiety."
Each ending, however nerve-racking, presents a learning opportunity, says psychologist Steven Hayes. "The challenge is to face what you are losing. We have a tendency to rush through endings and avoid the pain instead of experiencing the rich soup of emotions that come up."
Lingerers and Quitters
Some people plod away in dreary jobs and dead relationships, while others are forever cutting people off and finding new careers. If you fall into one of these two extreme categories, your tendency could be a default.
At one end of the emotional spectrum are those with high need for closure. People with this mindset want definite answers. They would rather be fired or broken up with than linger on in ambiguity. These types prefer order and predictability in the world and tend to be decisive. If you suspect you fit the bill, you may be cutting yourself off from the rewards that come from waiting to see how situations unfold. Your anxiety is driving you to force resolutions—but though you may feel better temporarily, you may also miss out on better opportunities in the long run.
But those with a habit of avoiding denouements altogether are also cutting themselves off from potentially fulfilling alternatives. "Sometimes people don't end things because they are lazy or have a low tolerance for frustration," says Lubetkin. "They can't stand the hassle of ending a boring conversation, say, so they go on being miserable rather than risking a short period of intense discomfort."
Opposed though they are, the inclinations to quit prematurely or to prolong the inevitable share a core feature, says Hayes: "Each distracts you from confronting deeper motivations, such as fear of failure or of intimacy. Either way, you are not being mindful of your true feelings."
In her coaching work, Pamela Slim has found that many people dread the uncertain period between phases of life, where they must exist independently of their old job or partner, more than they dread the departure itself. "I call it 'wandering in the desert,' " she says. "We don't like ambiguity as a culture. But it's a rich time where you can reconnect with who you are instead of jumping into a new relationship or job."
