The great American poet Maya Angelou once said: “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
In the quote, Angelou puts words to an experience we may all know too well: the less that we can express, the more unwell we get.
This sentiment is one that I’ve internalized. The quote lends itself as clear instruction on how to achieve relief: writing.
With that notion in mind, I think writing letters to people with no intention of sending them offers a great solution to the issue of repression. The unsent letter is a lost art that lends outward form to our internal suffering.
Not only is this a rare chance for us to vet our unorganized, emotionally charged thoughts into words, but the act of writing and not sending (whether in the form of a paper letter, text message, or email) gains its utility because the person its written to never reads it.
This is especially useful if the person cannot be reached, but it also comes in handy if you feel there is no use in speaking, if you’re unsure of their ability to understand, or if you’re unsure that they would care about your thoughts and feelings.
This form of expression is also helpful after the end of a relationship, whether it be a romantic or platonic one. Too often I hear people speak of closure and how they think they need it to move on, but this notion always seemed paradoxical to me.
To see the person you’ve ended things with, without the buffer of time, and expect that the visit will consist only of a heartfelt goodbye is absurd.
What comes of this interaction is often a false sense of hope for reconciliation, thus restarting the cycle of bereavement.
This isn’t all our fault though. When it comes to our love lives, we often follow a script that isn’t our own. The idea that the only form of cathartic release unfolds in the physical presence of the one who hurt us is a story we have heard a thousand times, but the idea that we need this closure to feel better is far from the truth.
Although we argue that it is a means to a rightful end, whether we were conscious of it or not, we almost always hope that the encounter may lead to more interaction.
Hence, the writing of a letter that isn’t going to be sent allows one to explore their grief without the consequence of saying or doing something you regret.
Powerful emotions that could cause you to breakdown in front of the person you’re writing to can now be examined in the comfort of your home. Without an audience, one can focus solely on their experience and write accordingly.
This in itself is cathartic; what matters most is not that the person you were writing to reads the letter, but that you allowed yourself to feel and articulate said feelings.
By the end of the letter, you should have written a full recount of how you feel and why you felt that way.
This not only allows us to feel legitimate in our experience, but it also allows us to explain our suffering to the one person who is most apt to help us in our time of need: ourselves.
