Sometimes wanting an explanation comes from a desire for curiosity. In other cases, the need for explanation comes from self-preservation. The idea is that if we can identify the cause, we can prevent the effect from happening. Because we think in the linear idea of cause and effect, the only reason we want to know the cause of a mistake is so that it doesn’t happen again. We want to understand a failed relationship in the hope that the next one will be a success. As we apply meaning to things, we bring order into the chaos of the unknown. The issue with this is that, in most cases, there may not be a clear explanation. When we can’t find what we are looking for, we tend to make it up.

The illusion of explanations is that it gives a false sense of control. Because something is understandable, it means that it is also controllable. This may be the only reason we seek to understand people and events. The underlying intention may not be to understand, but to control. We don’t seek to understand any topic related to a hobby or occupation simply because we are curious. Instead, we seek to gain mastery over it. We consider ourselves experts in our field because it gives us a sense of control in our work. This is evident in the need to be right in our area of expertise. Any notion of not knowing is seen as a threat. Even a bad answer is better than no answer at all.

In many of our serious interpersonal relationships, we demand an explanation for actions that we reject. The demand for explanation is rarely about gaining information, but reassuring our sense of security. When an expectation isn’t met, it tends to be perceived as a threat. We don’t know how to respond if a friend cancels on us at the last minute, or if our spouse becomes emotionally unavailable. We treat it like it’s an error within the system, and it’s up to us to (you guessed it) fix it. The only way we really know how is to ask for an explanation. We ask questions like “Why did you cancel on me?” or “What did I do wrong?”

The false sense of control in these interpersonal examples stems from the belief that once you have a true reason, you can build a predictive model of their behavior. We treat people like computer language, believing that if the explanation is true, then I can prevent pain by taking this corrective action. It’s quite baffling that we haven’t yet realized that our minds (and the minds of others) don’t work like this. As we consider one possible explanation, millions of thoughts pass through the other person’s head. There’s no way to verify if the explanation given was true. The explanation is a partial narration at best.

Say your coworker received a promotion you thought you should have received. If you think that you deserve it more than this other person, you would be prone to explain it in a way that dismisses the skills of your competitor. Instead of saying the other person worked hard, you’re more likely to say that they were lucky, or they had a better relationship with the manager. The explanation allows you to control your self-perception by saying that it wasn’t your lack of skill, but unfairness. The explanation effectively allows you to deflect the pain of not receiving the promotion and maintain the illusion of being better than.

With a fear of not knowing, we explain almost everything, including moods, behaviors, and even coincidences. Everything needs to have meaning. I remember applying for a job at Forever 21. A couple of weeks after my first interview, I started seeing yellow Forever 21 bags everywhere. My noticing of the bags meant that I was soon to get the job. I never got the job. The need for explanation stems from the need for narration, as we believe that things need to make sense in our minds before they can unfold in real life. Anything unexpected becomes a shock to the system. The writer’s room of our mind rushes to build a story that can account for it. No one likes plot holes.

The need for explanation distorts reality by taking what is and adding an Instagram filter to make it more palatable. When a child would cry because something that happened to them wasn’t fair, a typical parent’s response would be, “Life isn’t fair.” It’s only half the story. Life isn’t fair because life is neutral. It’s we who add the filter of fairness. It would be better for parents to say this to their child. Life isn’t always going to fit our preferences, but that’s no reason why we should accept life as it happens.

Removing the need for an explanation removes tension if we allow it. It helps us remember that things happen. Not for a reason, but for what it is. We don’t need a happily ever after if we have reverence for life as it unfolds in real time. We don’t need to be life’s detective. There’s no need to interrogate every detail of an event for hidden messages. Life is direct, with no need to investigate the underlying message. There is no underlying message. We might find more rest if we tried not to turn every experience into a coherent story. I know much of my headspace is taken up by trying to understand something I can’t understand. As a result, my mind races with the same things repeatedly, trying to find the answer within the pattern. There is no answer, just mental exhaustion, anxiety, and depression.

We shouldn’t use explanations to validate our pain. By doing this, we infer that an explanation determines our sense of peace and worth. We still have to realize that our value is intrinsic. Our perfection doesn’t rely on someone’s explanation, and that explanation doesn’t have to confirm any conflict. Since our perfection is intrinsic, our peace, our value, and our wholeness cannot be disrupted by someone breaking off plans or another person receiving a promotion. When we demand promotion, all we do is hurt ourselves.

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