Journaling Workshop and the letters... - Trigger warning.

This spring and summer I've been hosting some journaling workshops and this past month the theme has been to write letters to the abusers in your life and also a letter to yourself. These letters are an exercise to help bring out all those emotions survivors carry within them but may not have honored. The letters are symbolic of your path and where you are at on your healing journey - they are not to be given/mailed out unless you choose to do so. They are for reflection and self-discovery.

It has been a while since I've written some for myself, so I thought I would do as I preach. The following are free form, as they should be - no planning, no worries about what is said, and no worries about grammar or sentence structure.

For me, I need music in the background when I write and since I am writing about my childhood, I am listening to songs from the 70s.  For this post I am writing a letter to the monsters who molested me and to the little girl I once was and thought (at one time) was lost in time.

Dear Monsters -

You filled my life with memories I will never be able to erase. I was once a happy carefree little girl. The world around me was shiny and bright and then you entered my life, making my childhood a dark place where monsters lurked around every turn. Because of you I felt like a freak of nature.

I was just five years old the first time one of you laid your hands on me. My stomach still churns at the thought. You set me on the path of being victimized. You took the light hearted ways I had and turned a smile into a frown.

Then just a few years later another monster entered my life. Again, you were a neighbor. I will never forget being fearful every time I left my house to go play or when I was alone at home, ill - if that doorbell rang how my heart sank.  I can remember crawling down the long hallway in my apartment and hiding in the closet until I thought you had left.

How dare you - I was just 8 years old. I was so ill. In and out of hospitals, that alone, was too much for a little girl to handle but then I was also carrying your shame. I didn't even know there was a word for what you had done to me but I knew it was something not to be discussed. The only place I ever felt safe was in my bedroom, with my door tightly shut.

I will never forget that one night when I was gravely ill and my parents rushed me to the hospital. That memory is stored forever in my head. There you were, acting like the hero neighbor - offering to carry me down the three flights of stairs while my father went and pulled the car around to the front of the building.  I was so sick and scared - but when you carried me down those stairs I thought a piece inside of me died - died because I couldn't say - speak the truths that had happened..all those times you cornered me in the laundry room where I kept my bike. You used your dogs to lure me - groom me. I know that now but didn't know that then. I just liked animals. No, I couldn't scream out my truth. I had to be silent as you carried me down those stairs with my mother following to my waiting father.  They didn't know you were a monster.  My father respected you...he respected your service to our country. He respected the fact you were a Vietnam vet. He had no clue of your twisted mind. He never knew.

Then there's the other Monster. You too were trusted by our family as you were family by marriage. I was just 9 years old and to this day I cannot stand the smell of wet leather. I remember that night when I was sleeping in your home and you came home smelling of alcohol. It was a stormy night and your boots were leather -wet and I can still smell them. You know what you did. I know what you did. You're vile.

All of you -monsters. I hope that Karma has bitten you threefold. I hope your lives have been a hell on Earth. For decades I searched for the little girl I once knew. I thought you stole her away - her childhood.

Yes, all of you had a part in creating the person I am today. I had to go through years of self-hate because of you - can you imagine what it is like to be a child and want to die? Want to die because of the actions of others? Somehow I survived all that pain. All those years. Somehow I did. And now, I use what you did to me to help others. It is the only thing that keeps those memories from consuming me alive.

I hope to God there have been days of clarity for you all. Days where guilt actually entered your twisted brains. I hope the shame you felt immobilized you. I pray that there haven't been other victims of your vile actions, but common sense tells me there have been. I was just one of many. That thought sickens me.  I am not a violent person, but I can say there have been many times I envisioned you dying a painful death.  I can only imagine all the pain you are due. May God have mercy on your soul, I don't.

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To that little girl,

I am sorry. I am sorry I lost touch with you all those years. You should carry no blame...no shame.  The memory of you lives on and does good in this world. That is how I honor what you have endured. Your voice now speaks. 

I know that doesn't take away the pain nor the memories. But, just know you were and still are loved. In the end love is what matters. It is because of that love I didn't give up. Why I fought to find healing.

All you ever wanted was a happy family and to be a mother. Well, you've succeeded. All the things you longed for, the boys receive. They know what love is and what it feels like to be nurtured-  It is because of you I was able to provide them with a childhood of wonderment even though they too had to live through something no child should. You kept me strong during those days - strong in a way I cannot explain. A child-like resiliency set the foundation so that I could be a loving mother to my children and provide to them what they needed to grow into fine young adults. Thank you.

You are me.
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