In the evening, after I put the kids to bed, I started to feel annoyed again. The rational and reasonableness I had gained during the day was fading and my emotions took over. I started to build up arguments of why I was completely justified in being outraged.
So I wrote an email to the person who was the root cause of my irritation. Describing exactly how I felt. With no emotion left unexpressed. It was, as they say in Harry Potter, a howler.
I knew while I was writing that this note was mean spirited and might have deep repercussions. I knew that sending a nasty email was not the best way to solve the problem. Yet, I felt so much better after writing it all out. Though it was not the kindest letter, it did help me to clarify my thoughts.
But writing it wasn't enough. I had to hit the "send" button. I wanted someone to read my diatribe. I needed to hit the send button. It was getting later, and I was getting more worked up. Fortunately, there was some small sliver my rational mind still working that said "Do not send to intended recipient." So I marked the email "Draft" and sent it to my friend, Diane. I wrote an introduction telling her I was thinking of sending this to the irritant, and asked what she thought. Hitting the send button worked. I felt a huge release of tension after I sent it.
Why was the send button so magical? Why did I need to hit it? Why wasn't it enough to just leave the note in my draft box? Writing how I felt helped clarify my thoughts. When I hit the send button, the note became something more than my rantings. It became a permanent record of how I felt, where my feelings could not be erased. Hitting the send button gave me temporary closure. Once the note was gone, I stopped stewing for the night. It gave me power, even if I sent to someone else. It also gave me a responsibility to figure out how to deal with this problem directly. I couldn't just send it to Diane, and then not follow-up. Diane would hold me accountable, both to be civilized and to figure out a reasonable next step.
Diane goes to sleep early and wakes up early. I knew she wouldn't check her email until the morning when she is drinking her coffee. When she saw it, she immediately replied and put up the roadblock:
Lauren,
Holy shit!!! Have you already sent X_____ that draft!?
She recommended that I rewrite the note a dozen times. When I get it right, I should hand the note to the person instead of sending it via email. One of my husband's colleagues recommends a similar strategy for writing difficult letters in professional situations: write whatever it is you need to get off your chest, delete it, and then write a new letter you intend to send, minus the vitriol. I did talk to the irritant about what was bothering me. I left the bitterness on the page and did not bring it to the conversation.
I am very lucky to have a friend like Diane at the other end of the send button. I will apologize to her, though, as she probably burned her throat and nasal passages while choking on her coffee while reading my email. Shouldn't we all have a friend (or two or three or four) who can be our "send" button, the one who will safely listen to our rants and then bring us back to earth?
