One of the most impactful months in my Thank You Year was the one I spent thanking career mentors. (If you’ve read my book, you know this!) I thought about that month—specifically, the two toughest thank you notes I’ve ever written—when I received this piece of fanmail:

 

 

“I never watch daytime television but a few months ago, I turned on the TV while eating lunch and saw your interview with Rachel Ray. I was so touched and knew this was a practice I wanted to start. I have always been a fan of handwritten notes and cards so I found the prospect exciting.

 

I started with professional mentors. I had an upsetting situation transpire after being employed by a company for 23 plus years that led me to an early retirement in order to remove myself from the toxic environment. I knew I needed some healing in order to move to the next chapter of my life.

 

The responses I have received thus far have touched me more than I can express. While I know the individuals receiving the notes were very touched, I am the one that has really benefited. I am finding that the hurtful feelings I had been carrying around regarding my previous employer have started to lessen considerably. What a great gift to let that go and move to a place of acceptance and appreciation for the things the job did provide for many years.”

 

 

This message made me think of the thank you note I almost didn’t write. 

 

At the end of 2014, I was laid off from my dream job, Travel Editor of Food & Wine. My Thank You Year was 2018, but even though it was nearly four years later, that layoff still stung. So much so that I couldn’t find it in me to write a thank you note to Dana Cowin, Food & Wine’s former Editor in Chief, who hired and fired me. (Technically I was laid off, not fired, but “laid off” doesn’t rhyme with “hired.”) 

 

But then I ran into Dana at a travel conference in early 2020. She listened intently as I told her about the book I was writing, and about my Thank You Year. Her eyes lit up as she started brainstorming ways she could help and people she could introduce me to. 

 

I went home and wrote her a thank you note, a full year after I thanked the rest of my mentors. In the note, I admitted that “I thought about writing to you in my Thank You Year, but I guess I wasn’t quite past your laying me off, despite the years that had passed… But seeing you reminded me of all the ways you’ve been supportive of me over the years.” I went on to name four or five examples. 

 

And she replied, “The honesty of sharing that you weren’t quite over the hurt and the magnanimity of putting it aside many years later moved me to tears… I hated to lose you from our team. You had a unique and valuable perspective. Those staff cuts were the beginning of the end for us.”

 

There was another difficult note I wrote to a mentor, whom in the book I called “Mary.” She was one of my bosses at Oprah magazine, the job I got when I was 21 and, as I wrote to her, “entirely green and clueless. I am grateful you didn’t fire me! I saw in you a role model for hard work and accountability, and I tried to step up to that example.”

 

How did “Mary” respond? She didn’t. Because I didn’t send it: She is incredibly private, so I wasn’t able to find her address via the normal social media avenues. 

 

Nevertheless, much like Diane, who wrote me that piece of fanmail, I found the simple act of writing the note therapeutic. It helped me process and get over the embarrassment over the less-than-stellar job I did in my first year of employment. It helped me feel compassion for that 21-/22-year-old who was still figuring things out and messing up along the way, but desperately wanting to be good.

 

 

I’ll pause here to quote Ira Glass from This American Life, who spoke so eloquently about this tender time of life, when our ambitions outmatch our abilities.

 

 

 

 

By the time I was the Travel Editor at Food & Wine, I was good at my job. Getting laid off made me question that. But my exchange with Dana helped me regain confidence and cool any lingering shame. 

(That said, the notes that flowed easily—mentor recipients Frank Lalli and Courtenay Smith are coming to mind—were also incredibly gratifying, if less emotionally complex.)

 

If you are considering writing to a mentor and feel stuck in any way, please reply to this email! I would love to help.