When ‘Why’ Doesn’t Help: The Power in Letting Go of the Need to Understand

We’ve all done it.

Endlessly searched for the why.

Why did this happen?

Why didn’t I see it coming?

Why didn’t they support me in this?

Why now?

Why me?

What are we actually seeking when we ask ourselves why?

At its core, why is a question about cause, reason, or purpose. It’s our way of trying to create understanding; to find a logical thread, if you will, that helps us make sense of something that feels disordered, painful, or unfair. It’s our way of searching for meaning, and meaning matters as it shapes how we feel, how we heal, and how we move forward.

We naturally assign meaning to almost everything. It’s how we interpret the world around us even if we don’t realize that’s what we’re doing. But when something painful or confusing happens, the search for meaning becomes more urgent—even obsessive. We want to understand. We want it to make sense. We need it to make sense. But it’s all too easy to get stuck endlessly circling around and around the question why because we view it as the critical missing piece we simply must have in order to move forward. In other words, we often feel that we can’t move on without having a full understanding of the situation.

We put so much importance on seeking the answer to why that searching feels productive. We believe if we can just unravel the mystery in a way that makes sense to us, we will finally find peace at the center. We believe that somehow knowing why will mend our heartbreak, resolve our confusion, and provide us with closure and an end to the pain.

But here’s the truth: Sometimes there is no satisfying answer to the question why.

 

A Personal Reflection

I spent a lot of time trying to understand why in situations in my life where there simply was no satisfying answer.

Why my marriage imploded after 28 years.

Why my first son died.

In both of these situations, I searched for the answers to why from every angle I could—my values, my logic, my beliefs—trying to make sense of it all. Trying to fit the pieces together in a way that would restore some kind of order to my life. If only I knew why…

I certainly came up with theories. But they were just that: stories my mind created to help me feel less lost. Less pain. Less abandoned not only by people but by God.

What did I learn from all this? That even when we think we’ve figured out the why, it’s usually still not the real why. Because the real why is often messier and more complex than we can even imagine.

In some cases, the why is shaped by things that have nothing to do with us—like someone else’s unhealed wounds, the patterns they’ve carried, or choices they made that we could never fully understand.

In other cases, there’s simply no explanation that will ever satisfy the heart.

Like my son, who was born seven weeks early with undetected birth defects, including a serious heart condition. While the doctors reassured me throughout the month that he lived that he would be fine, he was not. They had to perform open-heart surgery sooner rather than later, and he didn’t survive. One moment during his surgery, they walked out to me in the waiting room with good news. The next update was that he was gone. No amount of meaning-making would ever make that feel reasonable or fair to me. The next person that approached me as I sit there absorbing the reality was a priest to offer condolences and prayer. I told him “Fuck off. You’re too late.” My mother, who was a minister herself, smiled gently, took his arm and shuffled him away.

Both of these situations knocked me to my knees. I searched for meaning but, finding none, I decided had to come to terms with not knowing. These things just were. That didn’t mean I didn’t grieve—painfully so—but I learned that to move forward, I had to release the why. At some point, it simply didn’t matter anymore.

When I accepted not knowing the why, something important began to shift. Letting go of the need for answers didn’t erase the pain—but it released the grip the past had on me. And in that release, I found the quiet freedom and strength to begin moving forward.

 

What Fuels Our Need to Know Why

The need to understand why is something we all share. It’s part of our humanness. It’s shaped, often quietly, by our environment, the people around us, and the deeper messages we’ve absorbed about what it means to heal or move on.

If you find yourself stuck in a loop asking why, you’re not alone. Sometimes simply understanding what’s driving the search is enough to create space within—space for stillness, for grace, and for whatever comes next. With that in mind, here are some quiet forces that can perpetuate us coming back repeatedly to answer the oft unanswerable question why, even when we don’t realize it.

• The Culture of Control and Fixing
  We live in a world that values logic, resolution, and progress. If something goes wrong, we’re taught to look for the cause so we can fix it—or avoid it next time. This approach works for broken appliances, missed deadlines, misunderstood conversations, or a mistake at work. When something goes wrong, we trace it back, find the cause, fix it, and move on. But when it comes to heartbreak, grief, or deep human experiences, not everything fits into a neat cause-and-effect box. Some things aren’t meant to be solved. They’re meant to be felt, honored, and eventually released.

• The Personal Development Spin
  Even the self-help world, for all its good intentions, can send the message that there must be a lesson in everything.  You’ve seen the memes and heard the speakers:
  “Everything happens for a reason.”
  “You attracted this into your life.”
  “The challenge is your teacher.”
  Sometimes, that kind of reflection can be helpful, but it can also become a subtle form of self-blame and an invitation to take responsibility for something you never could’ve controlled. And that, in itself, can lead to more questions.
  More whys.
  More analyzing.
  More spinning.
  But I’ll let you in on a little secret: You don’t have to figure out the why or the lesson to move forward. You just have to decide to take the next best forward step you can. The lesson will come—when you’re ready for it. Sometimes we simply cannot understand in the moment, especially when we’re still wrapped in grief, confusion, or shock. Our minds may be grasping for clarity, but our hearts aren’t ready to receive it.
  But once we’ve begun to move forward, something unexpected happens. In a quiet moment, when you’re not even looking, the answer will land—softly but unmistakably—with a sense of profound clarity and a deep inner knowing.
  These are the moments that change us forever. The ones that feel divinely timed. They don’t arrive because we solved the puzzle. They arrive because we surrendered the need to. And they bring a kind of peace no amount of analysis ever could.

• The Illusion of Closure
  We’re taught that “closure” is a moment—something we arrive at before we’re allowed to move on. But what if there is no closure? At least the way we imagine it. Real strength lies in choosing peace even when the story is still messy. Closure isn’t a finish line. It’s a quiet decision to stop needing answers in order to begin again.
  And perhaps most importantly, closure is an inside job. It doesn’t come from someone else’s apology, explanation, or regret. I see this often with women going through divorce—believing their ex holds the final piece, the key that will somehow unlock their healing. But the truth is: they don’t. The key to closure isn’t out there. It’s within you.

• A Word on Religion, Grief, and the Why That Hurts
  After my son died, I heard every well-meaning religious explanation imaginable.
  “God called him home and he’s in a better place now.”
  “Everything happens for a reason.”
  “God wouldn’t give you more than you can handle.”
  I know those words were meant to comfort, but I assure you, they did not. I couldn’t wrap my pain in a bow of faith even when grounded in the knowledge that I would somehow survive this.  Sometimes terrible things happen, and they have nothing to do with God.
  We live in a world that is mysterious, complex, and often unfair. Not everything is orchestrated. I don’t believe that every ‘bad’ thing we experience is a lesson intentionally bestowed on us from up high―although we certainly can and often do learn lessons through every experience. We don’t need to force spiritual meaning onto things that are already sacred in their raw form. Maybe one day, when we cross the veil and return to the other side, the reasons will be revealed. But until then, we simply do the best we can—with what we have, and where we are.

• When Others (Even the Well-Meaning Ones) Keep Us Stuck
  Sometimes the need to understand why isn’t even coming from us—it’s reinforced by those around us. Friends and family try to help by offering their perspective. Sometimes we ask for those opinions. Other times, they arrive uninvited. Either way, they often just add more noise—when what we’re really craving is tender support and validation that it’s okay to feel exactly what we’re feeling. Even therapy can become a place where we revisit the same story again and again, hoping for a breakthrough that may never come. Insight and support are valuable. But at some point, insight isn’t the medicine—release is.
  All of these influences—the culture we live in, the people we turn to, the personal growth ideas we’ve absorbed, our religious beliefs—can shape how tightly we hold onto the question why. They’re part of the reason we believe the answer is essential before we can begin again.
  But what if the real question isn’t why did this happen?
  What if the more powerful question is: Does the meaning I’ve attached help me heal—or is it holding me back?
  That’s what we’re going to explore next.

 

The Why That Heals vs. The Why That Holds You Back

There are times when we need a why—any why—just to stay afloat. Something to help us make sense of what happened. Something to give shape to our grief, our confusion, or the space where life used to make sense.

That’s human. And it’s okay.

But know this: the meaning we assign doesn’t have to be definitive. It can be temporary. It doesn’t have to be the whole truth.  Nor do we need to lean into anyone else’s truth for that matter. It’s our truth at a particular point in time. It just needs to help you find your balance and breathe. To support your healing—not stall it.

The why that heals will feel spacious. It will calm your nervous system, settle your thoughts, and help you begin to move forward—even if it’s just one small step.

The why that holds you back will feel like a loop. A mental spiral you can’t escape.
It will leave you exhausted, not empowered. It will leave you with more questions than answers. And more frustration.

The key isn’t whether you’ve found “the answer.” It’s whether the story you’re holding on to―even if just for now―is actually serving you. Is it giving you strength, perspective, and compassion for yourself? Or is it keeping you circling around something that no longer needs your attention?

If the answer no longer brings peace (or never did) or is leading you only to ask more whys, it might be time to release it. To surrender to not knowing, just trusting.

You don’t have to solve the past to build your future. You just have to know when it’s time to stop looking backward and start living forward.

 

A Gentle Invitation

If you’ve been circling the same questions…

If you’ve been waiting for an answer before giving yourself permission to move forward…

Maybe it’s time for something different.

 

Let the Life Assessment be your next step.

Not toward fixing the past, but toward reclaiming your future—with clarity, with intention, and with a deeper sense of peace than you’ve felt in a while.

It’s not meant to explain everything that’s happened. It’s not another attempt to solve the unsolvable.It’s a way to meet yourself honestly, right where you are—and discover what’s ready to shift.

A way to come home to yourself.

One insight, one decision, one breath at a time.

 

Learn more about my Life Assessment here!