THE HAPPINESS OF FINISHING: Why Humans Need Closure — and Why December Makes It Easier

December has always carried a subtle magic, but not the kind that sparkles on greeting cards. It’s the quiet magic of a month that sits between what has been and what will be — a liminal season. In anthropology and psychology, “liminal” describes a threshold state, a space where one chapter is ending and the next hasn’t yet begun. December is the closest thing we have to a collective pause, an exhale built into the calendar. And as it turns out, this liminality speaks directly to something deep in the human brain: our need for closure.

Humans don’t just enjoy finishing; we are neurologically wired to seek it. Nearly a century ago, psychologist Bluma Zeigarnik discovered that people remember unfinished tasks better than completed ones — a phenomenon now known as the Zeigarnik Effect. When something is left open, the mind holds onto it, keeping it active in working memory as if it’s constantly tapping you on the shoulder. This creates what researchers later described as cognitive load: the mental clutter we carry when too many tasks, thoughts, or emotions remain unresolved. Cognitive load isn’t complicated — it simply means your brain has too much open at once. And when cognitive load is high, everything feels heavier: decision-making, focus, patience, and emotional regulation.

Finishing something — anything — releases that mental tension. It frees working memory. It restores clarity. And crucially, it triggers a small dopamine release, the brain’s way of rewarding us for bringing things to completion. That tiny spark of dopamine isn’t trivial. Neuroscientists like Kent Berridge describe dopamine as less about pleasure and more about “the feeling of progress.” It motivates us, energises us, and signals that we have closed a loop. Even the smallest finish — hanging up that last jacket, tying a ribbon on a project, finally responding to the email — sends a message to the brain: You’re safe. You’ve handled something. You’re moving forward.

Completion isn’t just mental; it’s deeply physiological. Polyvagal Theory, developed by Stephen Porges, explains that unfinished stressors keep the body in a subtle state of vigilance. Even minor open loops — the unreturned library book, the gift you haven’t wrapped, the conversation you keep avoiding — hold emotional weight. When we finish something, our body and nervous system shift from activation toward its parasympathetic state, the “rest and restore” mode. Heart rate calms. Breathing deepens. The body softens its guard. Finishing is quite literally a way of helping the body feel safe again.

And then there is the emotional layer. Positive psychology tells us that endings help us shape our personal narratives. Researchers like Baumeister and Vohs show that humans make meaning through stories, and stories require clear chapters. The end of a task, a term, a project, or even a feeling allows us to organise life into something coherent. Completion gives the psyche a place to set things down, to say, “This part is done,” and in doing so, understand ourselves more fully.

This is why December feels like such a natural container for finishing. The season itself signals closure: the shortening light, the slowing pace, the collective rhythm of workplaces, schools, and communities preparing to pause. It is as though the world gently cues us to reflect, wrap up, and put things in their rightful place before the next cycle begins. The psychological and cultural forces align to help us do what our brains and bodies crave — finish the old so we can step into the new with less weight and emotional residue. This is not laziness; it is adaptive behaviour designed for long-term resilience. This instinct toward finishing shows up differently across ages and roles, but the underlying mechanism is the same.

Children, too, feel the shift of the season. While they may not articulate it, children thrive on rhythms with a beginning, middle, and end. For children, finishing is about mastery, predictability, and emotional security. When a child completes something — a drawing, a block tower, a puzzle, a reading level, returning a toy to its “home,” or even closing a school term — their brain gets a powerful message of capability. Research by Albert Bandura, on self-efficacy, shows that children build confidence not from praise but from experiencing themselves successfully complete tasks; foundation experiences for metacognition, no matter how small. Finishing helps children regulate and think about their thinking — how to organize their inner world and transition. It helps their world feel organised and safe.

For parents, finishing offers profound nervous system relief. The mental load of parenting — the invisible list of what needs attention, what’s overdue, what’s half-done — creates chronic cognitive load. Parents often operate with dozens of mental tabs open: the appointment to book, the email to send, the lunch to remember, the holiday commitment you didn’t actually want to say yes to. Closing even one small loop restores a sense of agency. It reduces emotional overwhelm. It models regulation and completion for children watching. And, importantly, it allows parents to enter the new year with more bandwidth, clarity, and compassion — for themselves and for those they care for.

And for the broader adult population — anyone navigating work, relationships, creativity, household responsibilities, or simply the emotional weight of being human — finishing carries its own quiet power over micro-stressors: unmade decisions, incomplete admin tasks, unresolved conversations, half-finished work, postponed self-care, and internal stories they haven’t had time to process. It brings clarity to the mind, spaciousness to the heart, and a sense of being in right relationship with life. Completing something small can feel like reclaiming a little corner of yourself. It reminds you that you are capable of shaping your environment, making decisions, and closing chapters. For adults who feel stretched thin, or who have spent a year carrying the emotional residue of unresolved conversations or unmade decisions, finishing can feel like finally exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

What’s beautiful is that finishing does not need to be grand. In fact, small completions are often the most powerful because they are accessible. The goal is not to empty your life of every unfinished task — that is neither realistic nor necessary. Rather, December invites you to choose a few things that matter, things that will offer release, clarity, or relief. A task. A feeling. A decision. A memory. A habit. A story you no longer need to carry.

Finishing is not about productivity. It is not about “getting it all done.” It is about creating space — mentally, emotionally, physiologically — for the next season of your life. It is about approaching the threshold of a new year with a sense of calm, coherence, and groundedness. And it is a profound act of self-respect.

In many ways, finishing is MARVEL in motion:
Mindfulness in acknowledging what is open.
Authenticity in choosing what truly matters.
Respect for your mind and energy.
Validation of your own human limits.
Empowerment in completing what you can.
Leading by example for those you care for.

So as December unfolds, you don’t need to finish everything.
You only need to finish something.

Choose one loop, one task, one chapter, one emotion that deserves closure.
Let it complete.
Let it settle.
Let it give your mind and nervous system the gift of space.

Because on the other side of finishing is not simply a completed task —
but a lighter, clearer, more grounded you, ready to enter the next chapter of the story you’re living. This is the real gift of December: not the festivity, but the closure that allows us to start again.