I started writing letters to people who aren’t in my life at the recommendation of my therapist. It was something she had suggested to help me get closure. A lot of times people slip from our lives before we can seek closure, even without us thinking we need closure.
When I was younger, I wrote to the friends I grew apart from. I wrote to them thanking them for how they had shaped me. I told them the impact they had on my life, the way they changed me and how they saved me from dark places. I wrote everything I wanted to tell them but never did; I wrote the things I now try to actively tell people. I never sent those letters but during the times I’m missing them, missing what we had and who I used to be, I read them back and let myself mourn.
More recently, I write to the people who’ve wronged me. I write out every accusation I wish I could throw, every malevolent thought that comes to mind. I write as much as I can to get this deep-seated anger out of my soul. I detail everything they’ve done to hurt me, everything I wish I had the courage to say; I write it in hopes it will hurt them, and then I never send it.
It’s therapeutic.
My letters used to be melancholic, bitter with every word, written for people who left me and who I’ve left behind. At that point in my life, they needed to be melancholic. I needed to write to the friends I’d lost due to time and distance in order to move on. As I’ve grown, my letters have grown angry as more and more people have hurt me. They are written with the intent to hurt, with the idea that if somehow their intended recipient still cared, still loved me, they’d be horrified with what they’ve done. These letters are my way of letting go of this anger: of saying, “I know I will never get the closure I want from you, that causing you pain will not take mine away.” And so at the end of it all, I save them and tuck them away until I’m thinking of them and what could have been, so I have a reminder that this too will pass.
It’s an exercise in closure. The person I’m addressing is no longer in my life to give me that, or maybe I just can’t get over an argument that I want to put behind me. So I write out everything I want to say and let my emotions guide me. I don’t censor myself for the sake of anyone else because this is meant for me, and me only. And then, when I’m done, I let myself sit with my emotions and I let go.
I don’t send the letter; I never do. That’s not what it’s about. No matter how much I want to send the letter, I don’t; it won’t get me the closure I need. I know it’s tempting. I remember reaching my breaking point and thinking to myself that I’d get everything I needed if I just sent that one letter.
The letter I’m talking about is over a thousand words. It’s addressed to my ex, my first love, who I found out cheated on me. I had written it in a fit of tears and anger, wondering how someone I had loved could’ve done this to me. Someone I had considered one of my best friends broke my heart. I wrote about every single inequality in our relationship that I had once written off because I was blinded by love. I wrote about how what didn’t hurt was that she’d cheated on me or she’d never given me the same love I’d given her, but that she lied about it and continued to act like nothing was wrong: that it didn’t matter what I felt because she felt no guilt over it. I wrote about going to prom with her and spending the entire night wishing she’d look at me and ask me to dance, instead of me doing all the asking because that’s what it always was with her. I wrote about how I wished she had introduced me to her parents as her girlfriend, not her friend, and how she never told me that a relationship with her would be constantly hidden on her end.
And no matter how many times I wanted to send that godforsaken letter, I never sent it. Instead, I let myself get closure. That letter let me cut her out of my life; it told me that keeping her around would only hurt more. So instead of drawing one of those caramel macchiato boundaries my friends had always drawn, I drew a black coffee one and I never looked back.
Writing that letter gave me closure just like all the ones before. Therefore, if anyone out there is struggling with getting closure from someone leaving their life, I would recommend giving writing letters a try.