I started writing dear god letters back when I was twenty-two and felt like my whole world was basically a dumpster fire. I wasn't particularly religious at the time—honestly, I was more "angry at the universe" than anything else—but I had so much noise in my head that I needed a place to put it. Journaling felt too much like talking to myself, and I already knew what I was going to say. I needed to feel like I was talking to someone else, even if I wasn't entirely sure who was on the other end of the line.
That's the thing about these letters. They aren't meant to be fancy or poetic. They don't need to sound like a Sunday morning sermon or a Victorian prayer book. They are just raw, honest conversations between you and whatever you perceive as the higher power in this crazy world. Whether you call it God, the Universe, Source, or just a "Higher Self," the act of putting those words on paper changes something inside your brain.
Why writing it down beats just thinking it
We spend so much time "praying" or "meditating" in our heads, which is great, but let's be real: our brains are distracted. I'll start a thought about being grateful and, three seconds later, I'm wondering if I remembered to take the chicken out of the freezer. It's a mess up there.
When you sit down to write dear god letters, you're forced to slow down. You can't think five thoughts at once when you're moving a pen across a page. It grounds you. There's something almost tactile and sacred about the physical connection between your hand and the paper. It makes the invisible feel visible. It takes that heavy, abstract anxiety sitting in your chest and turns it into ink. Once it's on the paper, it's not just living inside you anymore. You've shared the load.
Forget the "religious" pressure
A lot of people skip this because they feel like they aren't "holy" enough or they haven't been to a church in a decade. Here's a secret: nobody is grading these. You don't have to use "Thee" or "Thou" or act like you're a saint. In fact, the best letters are the ones where you're a little bit of a mess.
I've written letters where I was swearing, letters where I was complaining about my boss, and letters where I was just flat-out confused. If there is a God, He probably already knows you're annoyed, so you might as well be honest about it. The "Dear God" part is just an address. It's an invitation for a listener. You can show up exactly as you are—sweatpants, bad mood, and all.
There are no rules for the format
Some people like to buy a beautiful, leather-bound journal specifically for this. Others use the back of a grocery receipt or a notes app on their phone. Personally, I think there's something special about a dedicated notebook, but don't let the lack of "perfect" supplies stop you.
You don't have to write every day, either. Sometimes I'll write three times a week when things are chaotic, and then I won't touch my journal for a month when things are smooth. It's not a chore. It's a resource. You can start with "I don't even know what to say right now," and usually, by the second paragraph, the floodgates open.
The "Brain Dump" approach
Sometimes my letters are just a list of things I'm worried about. "Dear God, I'm worried about the rent, I'm worried about my mom's health, and I'm worried I'm failing at my job." It's a way of handing over a to-do list that feels too heavy to carry alone.
The "Gratitude" approach
Other times, the letters are just a way to notice the good stuff that usually slips through the cracks. It feels different to say "Thank you for that really good cup of coffee" than it does to just think it. It makes the moment stick.
Dealing with the silence
One of the biggest hurdles people face is the feeling that they're writing into a void. "What if I don't get an answer?" is the big question. But the "answer" isn't always a burning bush or a voice from the clouds.
Usually, the answer is the clarity you get while you're writing. You'll be halfway through a sentence and suddenly realize, Oh, I'm not actually mad at my friend; I'm just tired. Or you'll feel a sense of peace wash over you simply because you stopped fighting the reality of your situation for five minutes. The letter itself is often the response. It's the process of opening up that brings the relief.
What do you do with the letters afterward?
This is a common question. Do you keep them? Burn them? Hide them?
I like keeping mine because looking back on them a year later is a trip. I'll read a letter from last November where I was absolutely convinced my life was over because of some problem that I don't even remember now. it's a great reminder that things usually work out, even if they don't work out the way you expected.
However, if you're writing things that are deeply private or you're worried about someone finding them, there is a lot of power in the "write and burn" method. Writing out all your anger or fear and then literally watching the paper turn to ash can be incredibly cathartic. It's a physical representation of letting go.
A way to track your own growth
We change so gradually that we often don't notice it. But when you have a paper trail of your inner life, you can see the shifts. You'll notice that your dear god letters from three years ago sound like a completely different person. You'll see how you've handled grief, how you've celebrated wins, and how your perspective on "what matters" has evolved.
It's a form of self-therapy that doesn't cost eighty dollars an hour. It's just you, your thoughts, and a sense of something bigger than yourself. It helps you stop being a passive observer of your own stress and starts making you an active participant in your own peace of mind.
Just start where you are
If you've been feeling overwhelmed, or even just a little bit lonely in your own head, give it a try. You don't need a plan. You don't need to be "spiritual" in a traditional sense. Just grab a pen, write "Dear God" (or whatever name feels right), and see what happens.
You might find that you have a lot more to say than you thought. You might find that the world feels a little bit smaller and more manageable once you've shared your secrets with the page. Most importantly, you might find that you aren't actually carrying all of this alone. There's a lot of comfort in a simple letter, even if it never gets mailed. At the end of the day, these letters aren't really about the destination—they're about the connection you build along the way.