AND FINALLY
Letters I love to share with the world . . . SOMETIMES, I receive a problem with content so horrible, so disturbing, that I want to lock it away. This happened recently (about a husband’s shocking sexual behaviour) and left me wondering how one man could do so much damage to so many.
Then I turn to a sad, but interesting, family problem that I think might be relevant to other readers — only to come to the last line: ‘Please don’t print this, but thank you for reading.’ Ah.
A little later, I’m fascinated by another long, complicated saga, realise it will take me an age to paraphrase, but never mind . . . then, yet again, reach the end to read: ‘I feel so much better to have written this, but please don’t print my letter.’
At that point, my feelings are mixed. I’m really glad that this column works as a pressure cooker valve and people can exorcise some stress just by setting the problem down.
The act of writing is useful, which is why I sometimes suggest keeping a notebook.
Oh, but I wish all letters were for publication. I prefer the one, for example, that says: ‘If you choose my letter, please make it anonymous and leave out key details that make us recognisable, as my mum and sulky sister read the paper.’
There’s trust there, which I value. But it’s also a lot of responsibility to put on my head, because what if they do recognise the author of the letter and that causes trouble?
This has happened a couple of times in the past . . . and caused some grief.
Best of all — like gold dust — is the thoughtful reader who, despite his or her own worries, sends a long screed containing all the details, but also a short version (500 words maximum) with details changed and a pseudonym, so I don’t have to make one up.
On that subject, I once chose a pseudonym for a teenager whose problem I printed — only to receive a delighted email afterwards, thanking me for helping, but also accidentally choosing her favourite name in the whole world!
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, london W8 5TT, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.