There are few things I dislike more in life than unanswered questions. As a child of the internet age, I’ve grown accustom to the answer to nearly every question being found in a few short key strokes.
What other movie was he in?
How long do walruses live?
When do peonies bloom?
Where is the nearest Dunkin Donuts?
Thanks google maps!
Is he dating anyone?
I like to learn. I like to understand. I like to have the answers and solve the problems. But what happens when the answers aren’t neatly packaged with a bow? What happens when we can’t answer the questions that plague us the most. What happens when the answers we want most aren’t at our fingertips?
It’s something I have always struggled with.
For me, I have always found a way to cope with and rationalize solid answers. Even Answers I didn’t like. I ask the uncomfortable questions. Why didn’t I get the job? Did I do something to hurt you? What could I have done better? Why don’t you like me? Why don’t you love me? And genuinely, I want an answer. Because any answer is usually better than the one I have devised in my head. I have always thought the best of other people but the worst of myself. Don’t worry, my therapist and I have spent plenty of time exploring this one.
Where I struggle, where I find it impossible to move forward is when I don’t get an answer. Is it better to not know than to know a truth that might hurt? For me, “I don’t know” has never cut it.
Yet, so far, some of my most important questions, the ones that make me question every fiber of my being, those are the ones that are answer-less. Instead of finding resolve in moving on without the answers, I think up every possible answer- most, far worse than the reality. Some of these questions have sat, achingly on my heart for years, some even decades. And more than likely they will remain unanswered.
So now the important question becomes, how do I get these things to loosen their grip on me. How do I forgive the seemingly illusive answers, their keepers and most importantly myself. How do I live with the idea, that maybe that whole, “everything happens for a reason” line is more of a band-aid than a reason to hold out for answers. Maybe everything just happens. Reason or not. Or maybe there is reason, but I just won’t ever find it and faith plays a bigger role than I’d like it to.
Maybe these questions, whose answers seem vitally important are really insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
And at the end of all these questions, I just want more answers. Vicious. Cycle.
How do you deal with unanswered questions? That’s not rhetorical. Like I mentioned, I like answers! Ha ha!