11/08/2025

If You Want to Understand Someone, Read Their Emails

What your inbox reveals about your relationships, power dynamics and inner dialogue, and how to decode the patterns.

Introduction: The Messages We Don’t Mean to Send

We’ve spent the past year exploring the hidden patterns in the ways we communicate:  The emoji that says more than a paragraph ever could; the WhatsApp thread that tells the truth before we do, the subtle, private ways we reveal ourselves without meaning to. And each time, we’ve heard the same thing from readers: “I never realised how much that little habit said about me.”

That’s the joy of these pieces. They’re not just about communication, they’re about connection. They take something ordinary, even forgettable, and hold it up to the light until something new becomes visible. Not in a heavy, therapeutic, over-analytical way,  but in a quiet, “Oh… that’s interesting” kind of way. And once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it.

This time, we’re turning our attention to email –  the one tool we use more than almost any other at work, and arguably the least reflected on. Because unlike WhatsApp or voice notes or Slack threads, email wears a suit. It’s grown-up. It’s professional. It’s where we craft, present, perform. It’s where we edit ourselves into someone who sounds credible, composed, and just the right amount of friendly, even if we’re tired, rattled or second-guessing every word.

Now look closer, and something else starts to surface.

Your emails – the ones you send in a rush, the ones you polish for an hour, the ones you delete and rewrite three times –  they’re not just functional, they’re full of patterns and stories and clues about how you see yourself, how you see others, and how safe or powerful or responsible you feel in any given moment.

When you start to notice those clues (when you start asking why you sign off one way with one person and another way with someone else, or why you soften your tone for some people and sharpen it for others)  you start to see the emotional choreography behind the admin, which tells you a lot more than you might think.

This article is about that.

It’s not about writing better emails. It’s about noticing the unconscious choices you’re making in how you relate — who you’re careful with, who you’re short with, who you’re trying to please, and who you’re quietly avoiding. Because once you notice your patterns, you get to choose whether to keep them, or shift them.

And that’s where connection gets interesting.

 

The Sent Folder Never Lies

Take a moment, if you can. Open your email. Go to your sent folder. Scroll back through the last week or two. Don’t read every word — just glance at the names, the openings, the sign-offs, the subject lines.

Notice the patterns.

Notice who you write to with warmth and ease. Notice who gets the one-line reply at 4:57pm. Notice who you double-space for, soften your tone for, throw in a little exclamation mark for — and who you don’t.

Because what you’re looking at isn’t just output, it’s reflection. Not of your competence or efficiency or grammar, but of your relational state. Your inner world, rendered in pixels.

The emails we send aren’t just to get things done, they’re how we show who matters, who intimidates us, who we’re trying to impress, and who we’ve quietly started to keep at arm’s length. They’re also where we reveal how much pressure we’re under, how clear we’re feeling, and how generous we’re able (or unable) to be in the moment.

Sometimes they’re careful and crafted. Sometimes they’re clipped and reactive. Often, they’re neither — just habit. Which means they’re some of the most honest communication we produce, even when we’re trying not to say too much.

So the question isn’t just: “What have I been saying?” It’s: “What have I really been saying without meaning to?”

 

Sign-offs, Softeners, and the Stories We Tell

Some people sign off with “Warm wishes.” Others just stop typing. Some add “Hope that’s okay” to everything. Others end with “Thanks.” Full stop. Which, let’s be honest, rarely feels like gratitude.

The way we end our emails might seem like a small detail, like a flourish, a habit or a tick. But, like all habits, it’s doing something. It’s telling a story. And more often than not, it’s not really about the message. It’s about the relationship, or the risk, or the power dynamic underneath.

We adapt, almost without thinking. We mirror and we soften. We make ourselves smaller or warmer or more careful, depending on who’s on the other end of the thread. It’s not a strategy, it’s instinct.

“KR” for the exec.
“Thanks so much!” for the person we want to please.
“Nothing at all” for the person who’s annoyed us.
“Just a quick note…” when we’re trying not to sound demanding.
“Apologies if this is a silly question…” when we’re trying not to sound foolish.

These are not throwaway lines. They are relational tells. Every closing phrase, every exclamation mark, every carefully chosen word is part of a quiet, internal choreography. And once you spot the pattern, once you start to notice when and where you shrink or stretch yourself in writing, it’s an incurious individual who doesn’t wonder, “why do I do that?”

So next time you write “just checking in,” ask yourself: is that true?

Or is it something else?

 

The Draft That Never Gets Sent

We’ve all done it. Typed, paused, hovered. Rewritten the same line three different ways. Swapped “Hi” for “Hello,” then back again. Added “just” to soften it, then deleted it to sound more confident, then put it back in because it felt too abrupt without it.

And still, somehow, you’re not quite sure if it’s landed right.

This isn’t about indecision. It’s about exposure. Because writing an email – particularly one where you’re asking for something, challenging something, or asserting a boundary – is not just about clarity. It’s about vulnerability. It’s about how much of yourself you’re willing to show, and how safe it feels to be seen.

We call it “being professional.” But sometimes, it’s just fear in a suit.

Fear of sounding too direct. Too vague. Too emotional. Too cold. Too much. Not enough. So the sentence spins, the cursor blinks, and the message becomes a kind of performance, one where we’re not always sure who the audience is.

Some of us are chronic over-explainers, some of us write emails like legal disclaimers and some of us edit out every trace of feeling, just to stay on the safe side of acceptability.

Underneath all of that: there’s a story. There’s always a story!  This one’s about what we believe is permissible. How we think we need to sound in order to be taken seriously, or to be liked, or to simply be left alone.

So if you’ve ever reread an email and thought, “That doesn’t even sound like me,” you’re probably right.

The question is: who does it sound like instead? And how can you bring it back?

 

Who Gets What (and What That Tells You)

It’s easy to think we communicate consistently,  that our tone is just our tone, that our writing style is part of who we are. But email exposes something else entirely. 

Because you don’t write the same way to everyone.  Neither do I.  Neither do most people. 

Some people get the long, thoughtful reply. Others get the one-liner. Some get warmth. Some get clipped. Some even get emojis. Some don’t even get punctuation.

These differences aren’t random. They’re relational. They reflect what we believe we need to be — or not be — in relation to the person on the other end of the screen.

There’s the colleague you defer to, the one you’re wary of, the one you don’t quite trust. There’s the person you admire, the one you find intimidating, the one you’ve quietly decided you’ll never quite be good enough for. And there’s the one you’re still hoping might finally see you.

All of that shows up in how you write to them.

This isn’t about politeness or formality or style guides, it’s about emotional calibration, and once you start seeing your sent emails not as a record of what you’ve said, but as a heat map of where your energy is going – who gets your effort, your grace, your silence – the picture becomes clearer.

We’re not looking for blame (we’re never looking for blame!),it’s not about self-flagellation – It’s about getting curious. And we are all about curiosity.

The way we communicate isn’t fixed, it’s relational, and that means it’s full of possibility.

 

Reading the Silence, the Full Stops, and the Smiley That Doesn’t Smile

Language is one thing. But tone? Tone is something else entirely. And in the world of email, tone lives in the punctuation.

• A full stop can feel like a door closing.
• An exclamation mark can feel like a rescue mission (or a frustration leaking).
• Ellipses can trail off into discomfort (we know them as the three dots).
• And that smiley? Sometimes it doesn’t smile at all.

It’s astonishing how much emotion we can pack into tiny, grammatical choices, and how often those choices go completely unexamined.

You’ve probably felt it.

• “Thanks.” (Short. Clipped. Possibly cross?)
• “Thanks!” (Friendly. Grateful. Probably okay?)
• “Thanks…” (Uh oh.)

The same word. Three completely different energies.

We think we’re being neutral. We think we’re being clear, but email is full of tone we didn’t mean to send, and the more familiar we are with someone, the more loaded the messages become. A missing “Hi.” A sudden full stop. A dropped “x.” A change in rhythm. These are the things we notice – and more importantly, feel – before we can even name why.

And we all have our tells.

Some of us default to warmth, no matter what. Others shut the door and keep it shut. Some soften and sugarcoat, while others tighten and withdraw. All of it speaks. Even when we think we’re playing it safe, we’re still saying something.

The question is: what are you saying, without meaning to?

And what might it change if you noticed?

 

Try This: A Mini Email Audit

Now that you’ve started noticing the patterns, here’s something you can actually do with what you’ve seen. It’s simple, takes five minutes, and might tell you more than any personality test ever has.

We’re calling it the Mini Email Audit.

Here’s how it works:

1. Pick three emails you’ve sent in the past week.
   • One to someone you admire or want to impress.
   • One to someone you manage or support.
   • One to someone you find tricky, tense, or tiring.

2. Read them like they weren’t written by you.
   • How long is each one?
   • How open or closed is your tone?
   • What’s the balance of warmth vs distance?
   • Is there emotional language — or avoidance of it?
   • What’s not being said? And why?

3. Now zoom out.
   • Who got the most effort?
   • Who got the most honesty?
   • Who did you second-guess the most?
   • Which one feels most like you?
   • Which one doesn’t?

This isn’t about right or wrong, it’s about seeing. Because once you see the patterns, you can choose them on purpose, or shift them if they’re no longer serving you.

You don’t need to change everything. But you might decide to bring 5% more warmth. Or 10% more clarity. Or stop apologising for things you’re not sorry for.

Email doesn’t have to be a mask. It can be a mirror, and then a tool.

 

What Email Reveals About Connection

By now, it’s probably clear that this isn’t really about email, it’s about the shape we make in order to feel safe and the performances we give without realising we’re performing. It’s about the tiny, habitual ways we express care, or hide it. How we assert ourselves or soften ourselves or hold ourselves back, and how much of that is conscious, and how much is just reflex.

Email just won’t die! It might be functional, but it’s never just functional. It’s emotional and energetic. It carries our beliefs about ourselves, our assumptions about others, and our guesses – sometimes generous, sometimes fearful – about how we’ll be received.

Which means that noticing your email habits is about more than tone and punctuation. It’s about connection. And if you’re familiar with Lead Happy, you’ll know we’re all about connection.

Connection to others, yes, but also to yourself. To what you want to say and what you’re not saying, to how you’ve learned to fit in, keep the peace, prove your worth, or stay out of trouble.

Cue the mini-epiphany.

Once you start seeing your patterns, you’re no longer at the mercy of them. You get to decide which habits to keep, which to drop, and which to shift gently over time. You get to write with more intention and more clarity (maybe even more kindness)  towards yourself, as much as anyone else.

And in a world where so many of us feel misunderstood, overlooked, or slightly off-kilter in working relationships, even a small shift in how we show up -in writing or otherwise – can open the door to something much more human.

And there you have it – we don’t need perfect emails. We need real ones.

 

If This Sparked Something…

Maybe it’s just a line you recognised or a sentence you’ve sent. It could be a sign-off you’ve been second-guessing. Maybe it’s something deeper, a pattern you’ve spotted, a habit you’re ready to shift, or a relationship that suddenly makes more sense.

If so, you’re exactly the kind of person we build our work for.

At Lead Happy, we’ve spent years helping leaders and teams notice what’s really going on beneath the surface of communication, and what becomes possible when they do.

If this article struck a chord, you might want to explore two of our most popular masterclasses:

The Surprising Power of Effective Communication

A deep dive into the patterns, perceptions and emotional habits that shape how we speak, listen and connect, and how to shift them with clarity and care.

Harnessing Connection in Remote or Hybrid Teams

Designed for the reality of modern working — this is all about creating real, human connection across screens, silos and time zones. No fluff. Just what works.

Both are available as live, in-person sessions or designed-from-scratch digital experiences. They’re not webinars. They’re not workshops in disguise. They’re built to be felt, wherever you’re working from.

If you’re curious to find out more? Start here and book a free session.