To Whom it May Concern,

A friend of mine re-introduced me to a concept this weekend that I think would be really beneficial for me, so I’m going to start practicing it.

A letter, not sent.

A letter, not sent.

It’s called “letters not sent.” The idea is that when someone makes you angry, upset, and/or you feel they have wronged you, you write out your feelings and gripes in a letter. Preferably handwritten, since typing it up on a computer makes it that much more likely you’ll send something you’ll regret.

Then, as the name implies, you don’t send it.

The idea behind it is that you  vent all of your frustrations without introducing them to the other person. This gives you the opportunity to empty out all those emotions that are running through your head and articulating what you’re feeling, without risking saying something to someone that you’ll regret.

I know a lot of people (many of whom read this blog) that would scoff at this idea. So many in today’s world take such pride in being a “straight shooter” or a “tell-it-like-it-is” kind of person. Thing is, phrases like those are just nice ways of saying that a person doesn’t have much of a filter, nor do they possess the emotional intelligence necessary to maintain or create healthy and fulfilling relationships. Too often this type of attitude is celebrated, even though little good has ever come from not thinking things through.

Besides, more often than not, we’re more upset at the situation than the person, and we don’t make that realization until it’s too late.

So I’m going to give this a shot. The next time I’m upset with something someone’s done, I’m going to write a letter and not send it.

Sincerely,
Kevin Marshall

 

22 Responses to Letters Not Sent

  1. Megan says:

    Your hand is going to be sore.

  2. Anne says:

    Ooo – I love this idea, and I do a LOT of it myself. I’ve got a hotmail “drafts” folder bulging with unsent emails. They’re mostly acid-tongued letters, dripping with sarcasm, addressed to ex-boyfriends.

    It’s a great way to get a lot of stress, tension and anger out of your system. And in a few weeks (or months), after you’ve calmed down, you get the satisfaction of going back, reading them, then clicking “delete”, and smirking that they just don’t matter anymore.

    I’ve toyed with the idea of starting an anonymous blog and publishing the letters (names redacted, of course), because I gotta say, bitterness and bitchiness make for excellent reading.

  3. kriskaten says:

    great idea. i used to do this a lot. it helps.

  4. KC Orcutt says:

    Dear Kevin,
    I am guilty of doing this. In a good way. I also am a really big fan of actually sending letters and I always save my replies whenever I get them. I have a handful of pen pals because of the zine that I print. I should print some anonymous letters-not-sent sometime! That’d be a cool call-for-submissions. Feel free to send me one ;)

    Until next time,
    KC

    P.S. ^ I always end my letters that way!

  5. Lola says:

    I practice this all the time, and don’t have any plans to stop. It’s extremely healthy and therapeutic. Go for it!

  6. lizzee says:

    Oh,I have done that so many times! It has often helped me to able to mentally diffuse the situation and to forgive/forget what has made me so pent up in the first place.

  7. Erin L says:

    My grandmother writes these. And then she puts them into the “Catholic Guilt Box.” When she dies, we can open it and see all the terrible things we did to her.

    Sadly, I am not kidding.

  8. Ed says:

    If you do something like this, you also have to have the emotional intelligence to leave whatever you wrote down bottled up in that letter not sent. I trust that you do, Kev, but I worry about others. If the sentiment ever bubbles back to the surface, well, then it probably should have been said to the person’s face. Personally, I’d rather hear things.

  9. Donna H says:

    Hmmm, excellent suggestion. I should totally try this. (Sometimes I shoot too straight from the hip. Of course, sometimes I think I let things pass that I shouldn’t have.)

  10. Ski says:

    Ed is right. If you still feel the same way the next day, after writing the letter, then you should either send it or have that conversation. Otherwise, I love the practice. I’ve also done it with love letters. :)

    I’m surprise you didn’t post the Carly Simon song.

  11. Jen says:

    Kevin, I started doing this around the age of 19. It’s incredibly therapuetic. The best thing about letters never sent is that you get things out without starting an argument. I found the next step to the letter never sent is to think long and hard, you can determine if it means enough to you to say or bring up. If you do decide to confront the situation, you can do so with confidence – and usually without screaming, knock-down, drag out fights. Arguments are significantly more productive when there’s no screaming or insults.

  12. Em says:

    If someone pissed me off to the extent that I would consider my words a dangerous weapon to said individual, why in Flying Spaghetti Monster’s name would I want to cultivate a healthy, fulfilling relationship of any kind with them?
    Usually people who are deserving of fake correspondence could really benefit from hearing some harsh reality.

  13. Chuck Miller says:

    I’ve got a few of those “letters not sent.” I usually write them in Notepad, and leave them on my computer screen – so that the next day, after my blood pressure drops below TILT, I can rethink what I wrote, edit same – and nine times out of ten, delete them completely from the computer. It’s easy to do that in Notepad; Notepad doesn’t back anything up and if your computer crashes and you haven’t saved the file, it disappears as if it was never written.

  14. Hopeful says:

    I’ve heard of this and it’s been suggested to me. I don’t think it would work. Is there really satisfaction? Somebody does me wrong….they’re going to hear about it.

  15. Good plan, dooder. I’m real big on the karmic value of spending a lot of time creating something, and then destroying it. Sand mandalas, model rockets, bile-filled letters . . . the LETTING GO of the product of a lot of work is amazingly satisfying, in a masochistic sort of way . . .

  16. Tim O'Leary says:

    Dear Kevin,

    I think you’re an absolute tool, and this is the only good idea you have ever had. Unfortunately, you’ll never know I feel this way because I won’t hit “send.”

    Oh.

    Crap.

  17. Teri Conroy says:

    Writing letters, shoveling-you-know what, or walking a llama…all good to help let go of things. I tend to be a people pleaser, and fortunately have grown in my life to exclude those who give me headaches. Now and then someone pushes a button, but it’s very rare. (Does that come with age?) Just send me the letters, Kevin!

  18. Annie says:

    Learned this habit from a dear friend who does this often.. it is sooo theraputic!
    Tho I went back and read something I had written from earlier this year, and I could feel my blood pressure rising… I guess best to write those letters.. and burn them?

  19. A. says:

    This does really work. Except, I would never start doing this just because someone told me to do it for therapeutic purposes. To that, I would go, “pppbbbbttt”.

    I stumbled upon this idea by writing angry letters that I fully intended to distribute, only to find that after I was done, it wasn’t worth it to me. Actually, every time I write a letter, I write it thinking that I will send it. Luckily, 99% of them don’t get out. Writing them ALWAYS makes me feel better, though.

  20. Frank Davis says:

    I’ve been encouraged, Kevin, not to write a letter and send it. This, I’m told, will teach me to be more spontaneous–and more imaginative. (An added bonus is: I wouldn’t have to struggle with that handwriting versus typewriting thing.)

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