Letters from a Tortured Soul
Maggie's Introduction
Letters of Forgiveness
The following letters are to a few of my abusers. I had an extremely difficult time writing the words “I forgive you” to the majority of the people. Although there are many more that deserve forgiveness, I obviously can’t list them all, so I will say,. I forgive the people who ridiculed, bullied, abused and shamed me throughout the years.
If you happen to read this novel and you recognize your name and the episode, please understand I honestly forgive you. I know without a doubt the individuals whose names are on the letters will realize, even though I showed no emotion in front of you, I cried in the privacy of my room.
“Tears of the abused are rarely noticed.”
It has been said, more than once I might add, it’s necessary to forget the past in order to move forward. For years I’ve tried to hide my past from those around me. Growing up, my family never knew the misery I fought so hard to conceal. I never wanted the world to know about the shame and torment I bottled up inside. I always thought the abuse I suffered through was a product of my own doing. However, through the years I’ve learned, the victim is not at fault. At one time I heard, if you come to grips with your past, you can move forward to a better life, a life where the evils of a time gone by will never haunt you. God knows I’ve tried to shove the memories of abuse into the depths of my head, only to have the images and feelings escape the confines of the locked box and return with a vengeance. These days I’m finding it more and more difficult to keep the memories sealed away. After more years than I care to mention, I must let the healing commence.
In the following pages you’ll read letters of forgiveness to all those, who not only abused me, but also to the individuals who stood by and watched the abuse occur and never offered so much as a word of encouragement. Although thinking back over the years, I would have never accepted the help. I refuse to blame the individuals who stood on the sidelines; they honestly didn’t know the internal battle I suffered with every hurtful act. I just need to release the pain and rid myself of the burning desire to exterminate myself from this earth so I can scrape together what remains of the shattered pieces and go on with my life.
Letters of Forgiveness
The following letters are to a few of my abusers. I had an extremely difficult time writing the words “I forgive you” to the majority of the people. Although there are many more that deserve forgiveness, I obviously can’t list them all, so I will say,. I forgive the people who ridiculed, bullied, abused and shamed me throughout the years.
If you happen to read this novel and you recognize your name and the episode, please understand I honestly forgive you. I know without a doubt the individuals whose names are on the letters will realize, even though I showed no emotion in front of you, I cried in the privacy of my room.
“Tears of the abused are rarely noticed.”
It has been said, more than once I might add, it’s necessary to forget the past in order to move forward. For years I’ve tried to hide my past from those around me. Growing up, my family never knew the misery I fought so hard to conceal. I never wanted the world to know about the shame and torment I bottled up inside. I always thought the abuse I suffered through was a product of my own doing. However, through the years I’ve learned, the victim is not at fault. At one time I heard, if you come to grips with your past, you can move forward to a better life, a life where the evils of a time gone by will never haunt you. God knows I’ve tried to shove the memories of abuse into the depths of my head, only to have the images and feelings escape the confines of the locked box and return with a vengeance. These days I’m finding it more and more difficult to keep the memories sealed away. After more years than I care to mention, I must let the healing commence.
In the following pages you’ll read letters of forgiveness to all those, who not only abused me, but also to the individuals who stood by and watched the abuse occur and never offered so much as a word of encouragement. Although thinking back over the years, I would have never accepted the help. I refuse to blame the individuals who stood on the sidelines; they honestly didn’t know the internal battle I suffered with every hurtful act. I just need to release the pain and rid myself of the burning desire to exterminate myself from this earth so I can scrape together what remains of the shattered pieces and go on with my life.
Full wrap cover for paperback
Here is a sample of the letters within this novella. (Maggie is writing to her childhood friend)
This letter is extremely mild in comparison to most, I placed this as a sample as requested by Maggie. If you happened to read Her Silent Tears, you will know this letter is related to chapter two in the book. For the sake of this post, I am pasting the chapter below for you to better grasp the concept behind this new novel. The letter to her father was nearly more than I could stand. He was her primary abuser.
Dear Ronnie,
I’m writing this letter, not to forgive you for anything you had done to me, but more for what I had done to you. I’m asking for your forgiveness for wrongfully accusing you for having a part in the abuse I suffered through.
I remember a carefree time when we were young. From what I understand we played for hours and we were inseparable at the time. However that changed due to one particular incident. Although there were many times, I honestly can’t recall much of my childhood, we had fun and enjoyed each other’s company, there’s one day, in particular that stands out in my memory. This is one recollection that will be forever etched into my brain. I can see the vivid details of the incident, I can hear your voice and I remember the terrifying events of that day as if they happened yesterday.
We were five, innocent and full of life. The abuse I suffered lay hidden in the depths of my mind, forgotten every time I was with you. No matter what we did, we had fun. However the only memory I have of you is as follows: It was mid-January, we decided, as usual, to disobey our mothers and do whatever we pleased. I remember playing on a ledge, above the Penobscot Bay. We carelessly tossed snowballs, talked and giggled as young children often do. The January weather was bitter cold, but we didn’t mind as long as we were together.
A voice from the distance called, alerting us it was lunchtime. We had to return home before the wrath of our mothers was unleashed. I remember you climbed onto the once grassy area, rose to your feet and stared down at me while I stood on the icy ledge. I know you were terrified of your mother’s hand just by the look of fear in your eyes. I held up my hand with the hope you’d help me climb from the ledge to the snow covered grass. The voice sounded again and I knew, right then, you were not going to assist me. As you stepped away, I noticed, your cheeks were bright red from the cold winter air. I saw fear in your eyes. You turned toward your house, looked back at me standing on the ledge, and said the four words I will never forget. “I have to go.” I watched as you ran across the snow-covered lot as I frantically tried to climb from the icy ledge without success. I slid from the ice-covered ledge into the icy cold water of the bay.
For years I wondered if my life could have been different, if only you had stayed to help me. I wondered, if I never fell into the water, if by chance, the abuse I suffered following that day, would have ever occurred. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you in any way for what was held over my head after my rescue. I just can’t help wondering, if my father wasn’t able to hold my rescue over my head for more than twenty-five years, what would my life had been like? Would I have grown up to be a normal woman? Would anything have changed? I answered these questions and realized the abuse I suffered prior to the rescue, would have escalated naturally whether I was rescued or not.
For years I wanted to blame you for leaving me on that ledge. I guess in my mind it was your fault I was being abused and had the rescue held over my head. It took years for me to realize the only one at fault for the abuse was the abuser. I realize I tried to blame someone for something they never did. Please forgive me for thinking you had any part in the abuse that followed that day. You were nothing more than a terrified little boy who harbored the memories of your own abuse.
In closing, I just want you to know I don’t blame you for leaving me on that ledge. I don’t blame you for not saying anything until hours later. I think, had the tables been turned, I might have done the same thing. Fear of a heavy hand, or a belt, was always a child’s biggest concerns in the sixties.
I’m writing this letter, not to forgive you for anything you had done to me, but more for what I had done to you. I’m asking for your forgiveness for wrongfully accusing you for having a part in the abuse I suffered through.
I remember a carefree time when we were young. From what I understand we played for hours and we were inseparable at the time. However that changed due to one particular incident. Although there were many times, I honestly can’t recall much of my childhood, we had fun and enjoyed each other’s company, there’s one day, in particular that stands out in my memory. This is one recollection that will be forever etched into my brain. I can see the vivid details of the incident, I can hear your voice and I remember the terrifying events of that day as if they happened yesterday.
We were five, innocent and full of life. The abuse I suffered lay hidden in the depths of my mind, forgotten every time I was with you. No matter what we did, we had fun. However the only memory I have of you is as follows: It was mid-January, we decided, as usual, to disobey our mothers and do whatever we pleased. I remember playing on a ledge, above the Penobscot Bay. We carelessly tossed snowballs, talked and giggled as young children often do. The January weather was bitter cold, but we didn’t mind as long as we were together.
A voice from the distance called, alerting us it was lunchtime. We had to return home before the wrath of our mothers was unleashed. I remember you climbed onto the once grassy area, rose to your feet and stared down at me while I stood on the icy ledge. I know you were terrified of your mother’s hand just by the look of fear in your eyes. I held up my hand with the hope you’d help me climb from the ledge to the snow covered grass. The voice sounded again and I knew, right then, you were not going to assist me. As you stepped away, I noticed, your cheeks were bright red from the cold winter air. I saw fear in your eyes. You turned toward your house, looked back at me standing on the ledge, and said the four words I will never forget. “I have to go.” I watched as you ran across the snow-covered lot as I frantically tried to climb from the icy ledge without success. I slid from the ice-covered ledge into the icy cold water of the bay.
For years I wondered if my life could have been different, if only you had stayed to help me. I wondered, if I never fell into the water, if by chance, the abuse I suffered following that day, would have ever occurred. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you in any way for what was held over my head after my rescue. I just can’t help wondering, if my father wasn’t able to hold my rescue over my head for more than twenty-five years, what would my life had been like? Would I have grown up to be a normal woman? Would anything have changed? I answered these questions and realized the abuse I suffered prior to the rescue, would have escalated naturally whether I was rescued or not.
For years I wanted to blame you for leaving me on that ledge. I guess in my mind it was your fault I was being abused and had the rescue held over my head. It took years for me to realize the only one at fault for the abuse was the abuser. I realize I tried to blame someone for something they never did. Please forgive me for thinking you had any part in the abuse that followed that day. You were nothing more than a terrified little boy who harbored the memories of your own abuse.
In closing, I just want you to know I don’t blame you for leaving me on that ledge. I don’t blame you for not saying anything until hours later. I think, had the tables been turned, I might have done the same thing. Fear of a heavy hand, or a belt, was always a child’s biggest concerns in the sixties.
Her Silent Tears
Chapter 2
Maggie walked into her therapist’s office and sat in a chair facing the window. It wasn’t her usual seat, but considering the mood she was in, facing the window was perfect. Distractions loomed in her mind. She tried to concentrate on a magazine article but, her mind kept wandering, back in time, to her childhood.
Floating back to a horrifying time, the memory paralyzed her. She felt the ache in her legs as she remembered the feeling of being in icy cold water.
*****
It was noon. Knowing she was where she didn’t belong, she knew if her mother had caught her she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. Maggie and her friend played atop an ice covered cliff above the bay. They heard the sounds of her mother’s distant calls. The look of panic ran across her friends face. He knew he would be punished if his mother discovered he had been on the cliff and he panicked.
Standing on the embankment four feet above the ledge where Maggie stood, the boy turned to face his home. Panic and fear were in his voice. “I have to go!” he said in a rushed tone, “I can’t help you…I have to go.” She watched as her friend run across the lot toward his home.
Maggie tried to climb the small embankment leading to a vacant lot. Standing on a rocky cliff, she swung her leg up and grasped a rather large chunk of ice to help pull herself to safety. The ice broke away from the frozen snow; Maggie started to slide across the ice-covered rock. Frantically she clawed at the rough surface of the ledge while she slid. Maggie fell fifteen feet onto the rocky shore below.
Drenched from the incoming tide, Maggie, stunned and scared, stared at the top of the cliff and realized there was no way to climb the steep edge of the cliff. While swimming for safety, five-year-old Maggie struggled to keep her head above the water of the incoming tide. She spied an area she thought was low enough for her to climb to safety. Panic ran rampant through her tiny body as she desperately tried to climb onto the embankment with no luck.
After dog paddling for what felt like hours Maggie was able to crawl onto two rocks wedged together forming a vee-shape. The rocks were covered with seaweed causing her feet to slip and fall back into the ice-cold bay. While resting against the rocks and holding tight, Maggie pulled away large portions of the slippery weeds. Satisfied she had enough weeds cleared; she turned and started pushing with her legs. The air was cold and penetrated the wet fabric of her clothes. The waves continued to crash against the rocks causing a mist of icy salt water to spray over Maggie’s face. Relief entered her mind just moments before her foot became lodged between the two massive rocks. She knew she was at the mercy of the rocks and the sea.
Relatively calm up to this point, Maggie started to panic. She pulled at her foot as she tried to ease it from the crevice. Tears flooded her eyes. The incoming tide covered her chest. Panic flooded her body as she thought about her impending doom.
Darkness loomed, as the tide continued to slowly cover the remaining portion of her tiny frame. Her hands were numb and ached from holding onto the rough surface of the rocks. Maggie was weak, cold and tired. The numbness in her hands nearly caused her to release her grip.
Faint voices were heard in the distance. She heard men’s voices calling her name. Maggie’s gloom turned to excitement when she realized she would be saved. She let out a high-pitched scream. Finally after what felt like hours from the first time she heard the voices coming from the darkness, she saw a small group of men rushing toward her.
Maggie tried to turn to look at them, but her wedged foot made it impossible. While listening to the faint growls of the men devising a plan of rescue, Maggie frantically tried to release her foot. New found hope gave her new found energy. She won the fight against the rocks. Pulling her foot from her boot, she turned to face the men standing on the embankment. Her fingers were raw from hours of holding onto the rocks. She fought the pain and held on as she watched the men drag a fallen tree toward the nearly submerged rocks.
Thirty feet from shore, Maggie watched as her father eased his way into the water while holding tight to the tree with one hand. Seven men firmly clamped their hands and arms around the trunk and helped guide the man, who would hold the rescue over his daughter’s head forever.
*****
A hand was gently placed on Maggie’s shoulder and jolted her out of the terrifying memory. “Oh, sorry I must have been thinking.”
Alice Fine, Maggie’s therapist stood in front of her. “I’m sorry I startled you. I just wanted to let you know, I can see you now.”
Maggie rose to her feet, wrapped her arms around her purse and followed Alice into the office.
Maggie walked into her therapist’s office and sat in a chair facing the window. It wasn’t her usual seat, but considering the mood she was in, facing the window was perfect. Distractions loomed in her mind. She tried to concentrate on a magazine article but, her mind kept wandering, back in time, to her childhood.
Floating back to a horrifying time, the memory paralyzed her. She felt the ache in her legs as she remembered the feeling of being in icy cold water.
*****
It was noon. Knowing she was where she didn’t belong, she knew if her mother had caught her she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. Maggie and her friend played atop an ice covered cliff above the bay. They heard the sounds of her mother’s distant calls. The look of panic ran across her friends face. He knew he would be punished if his mother discovered he had been on the cliff and he panicked.
Standing on the embankment four feet above the ledge where Maggie stood, the boy turned to face his home. Panic and fear were in his voice. “I have to go!” he said in a rushed tone, “I can’t help you…I have to go.” She watched as her friend run across the lot toward his home.
Maggie tried to climb the small embankment leading to a vacant lot. Standing on a rocky cliff, she swung her leg up and grasped a rather large chunk of ice to help pull herself to safety. The ice broke away from the frozen snow; Maggie started to slide across the ice-covered rock. Frantically she clawed at the rough surface of the ledge while she slid. Maggie fell fifteen feet onto the rocky shore below.
Drenched from the incoming tide, Maggie, stunned and scared, stared at the top of the cliff and realized there was no way to climb the steep edge of the cliff. While swimming for safety, five-year-old Maggie struggled to keep her head above the water of the incoming tide. She spied an area she thought was low enough for her to climb to safety. Panic ran rampant through her tiny body as she desperately tried to climb onto the embankment with no luck.
After dog paddling for what felt like hours Maggie was able to crawl onto two rocks wedged together forming a vee-shape. The rocks were covered with seaweed causing her feet to slip and fall back into the ice-cold bay. While resting against the rocks and holding tight, Maggie pulled away large portions of the slippery weeds. Satisfied she had enough weeds cleared; she turned and started pushing with her legs. The air was cold and penetrated the wet fabric of her clothes. The waves continued to crash against the rocks causing a mist of icy salt water to spray over Maggie’s face. Relief entered her mind just moments before her foot became lodged between the two massive rocks. She knew she was at the mercy of the rocks and the sea.
Relatively calm up to this point, Maggie started to panic. She pulled at her foot as she tried to ease it from the crevice. Tears flooded her eyes. The incoming tide covered her chest. Panic flooded her body as she thought about her impending doom.
Darkness loomed, as the tide continued to slowly cover the remaining portion of her tiny frame. Her hands were numb and ached from holding onto the rough surface of the rocks. Maggie was weak, cold and tired. The numbness in her hands nearly caused her to release her grip.
Faint voices were heard in the distance. She heard men’s voices calling her name. Maggie’s gloom turned to excitement when she realized she would be saved. She let out a high-pitched scream. Finally after what felt like hours from the first time she heard the voices coming from the darkness, she saw a small group of men rushing toward her.
Maggie tried to turn to look at them, but her wedged foot made it impossible. While listening to the faint growls of the men devising a plan of rescue, Maggie frantically tried to release her foot. New found hope gave her new found energy. She won the fight against the rocks. Pulling her foot from her boot, she turned to face the men standing on the embankment. Her fingers were raw from hours of holding onto the rocks. She fought the pain and held on as she watched the men drag a fallen tree toward the nearly submerged rocks.
Thirty feet from shore, Maggie watched as her father eased his way into the water while holding tight to the tree with one hand. Seven men firmly clamped their hands and arms around the trunk and helped guide the man, who would hold the rescue over his daughter’s head forever.
*****
A hand was gently placed on Maggie’s shoulder and jolted her out of the terrifying memory. “Oh, sorry I must have been thinking.”
Alice Fine, Maggie’s therapist stood in front of her. “I’m sorry I startled you. I just wanted to let you know, I can see you now.”
Maggie rose to her feet, wrapped her arms around her purse and followed Alice into the office.
As you can see, Maggie has released her childhood friend from any guilt he may have suffered at the time of the unfortunate accident. I will tell you the letters, especially to her father and ex-husband, are intense...you will need a tissue when you read the majority of these letters. You can see more information about Her silent Tears by clicking here.