I am now thirty-three years old, and my story begins around the time I moved from eighth grade to nineth. I was a lively and accepted child in society, perhaps too lively and acceptable. I came from a good home. My parents were, and still are, good, decent and charming people. I have never had any difficulties at home or in society. All this – until I arrived at the new school. Five friends from elementary school came with me, and we were actually the largest group in the class. But as always, when you enter a new framework, new friendships and alliances are formed, and society changes completely.
I actually started on the right foot. I connected with many of the girls in the class, and everything seemed very promising. But then two of the girls in the class started working against me. I don't know why, but they started rebelling against all of them, laughing at me at every possible opportunity, hurting me, preferably in public, making fun of me, restricting my steps... They just tortured me, mental torture. Every morning I would ask myself, what new torture they had invented ad, diabolical. Wisdom for evil. They knew the craft very wellfor me. They were b . to destroy me socially and mentally. They had deteriorated – wasAnd the job confidence to zero. I sent them a mission and begged her to leave me, but-my self and –they sent back hurtful and painful messages. I tried to contact the teacher that was the biggest mistake. They were just naïve in front of the teacher, and presented me as a girl with mental problems, imagining things. They killed me , these girls. They just killed me while I was alive .
My parents didn't know what was happening to me. I was ashamed to tell them that I was at the bottom of the ladder. I still have, unfortunately, self-respect. I write "unfortunately," because when the Martyr's hand is paralyzed, you don't feel the wound, but when the Martyr's hand is normal, you suffer terribly. The same is true of the soul. I felt how I was fighting for my self-respect, for my mental health, when two girls were constantly shooting witty arrows at me, backed by the whole class, who followed them, whether afraid to get into their mouths – or out of admiration for them.
One time, I decided to go over to them and just ask them to stop hurting me. I remember it like today. I was standing at the entrance to the shelter. I waited for most of the girls to come out, and then I asked one of the girls to call them. They said they didn't have the energy to talk to me. I sent the daughter again to ask if they could give me a few minutes. I heard laughter from inside the shelter. "Tell her we don't have time for the mentally ill." But I heard the words spoken loudly and deliberately anyway so that I would hear. I went into the shelter and said, "I want to talk to you." I started crying and wailing. "I'm begging. Talk to me for five minutes." They began to talk to each other. "Soon she will bow down to the dust of our feet," she said to each other venomously. I realized that it was a waste of time. They won't talk to me, and even if they do, their hearts are stone. I got up, and suddenly words burst out of my heart: "Since you are not willing to hear me, the Lord in heaven will hear. G-d sees and knows what you are doing to me. He knows that I have no way of doing anything against you. I ask G-d to pay you for what you do. They laughed, and didn't pay any attention to me, and I went home broken and broken. They erased the remnants of my self-respect. They made me disgusted with my life and wanted to die.
The next night, I would cry and ask G-d to act for me. I told him that I had no more powers. I told him that he was the master of the world, and that the owner of the house could not allow his creatures to do this to each other. In those days, I felt that faith was the only outpost I had left in my life. A month had passed since that incident, and one of the girls who had bullied me had been thrown out of school. It was a real bombshell, because she was considered a good and outstanding daughter. There was all kinds of talk that was silenced – it turned out that she was Such good only on the outside. For me, by the way, it wasn't a novelty. In fact, none of them had anything new, but at least the others outwardly demonstrated that they were surprised. I felt that God's hand was in the matter. Suddenly, he kicked out the person who had harassed me so much. But her girlfriend didn't leave me.
She began to hurt me even more than before. She did it in an ugly way. She started talking about me in a lower grade. She knew how much it hurt the girl , among all the girls in the class –when they began to talk about her poor status . A girl can still suffer from mental pain, in front of a closed group, but as soon as everyone looks at her in a bad light, it completely finishes her. I sent her a message – isn't she afraid that Heaven might punish her, just as they punished her friend ? th a sneer, saying that she would make sure I was sorry that herShe responded wi because from now on I would suffer three times as –friend had been dumped much as I did before. Thus. In these words.
And she really kept her promise. She hurt me, broke me, crushed me every day. She made me a broken and scared girl – for life. She injured me mentally. It caused me a disability. From a happy and happy girl, with status - I have become a thin, suspicious, suffering girl from life.
Once again, I turned to God in heaven. I shed tears like water. I asked him to remove this terrible suffering from me, because I could no longer do it. A month and a half passed since the first girl was thrown out, and then a terrible disaster struck the family of the second. This is not the death of one person, but several. I can't tell you the details of the disaster, because everyone knew who it was. This story made the headlines of all the newspapers.
I want to stop and make it clear that as soon as I heard about the disaster, I felt that everything was because of me. I actually didn't feel it. I knew that. Let it be clear to you that I did not feel even a shadow of relief or joy. I felt even worse. I thought to myself: "What did you do? I hoped that no one would associate the disaster with the words I had said two months earlier, so that they wouldn't know that I was to blame. The immediacy of the disaster was like a signal from heaven to me: everything is because of you.
she -After the shiva she went back to school, and you will be surprised like –continued to chase me. But it didn't hurt me anymore, because my attitude changed from terrible fear to immense pity –everyone else's attitude towards her . I think she noticed that she no longer hurts me. A year later, due to changes in her family, she moved to another city, and I breathed a sigh of relief .
I didn't tell this story to anyone, partly because I still blame myself. But the main reason I didn't tell you was because I was afraid of dismissive reactions such as, "What does she think, that she has a direct line to God?"
Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that people who are in a real distress, that someone is persecuting them and that they have nothing to do – has a special power for their prayer. I have a message for all the people in the world, not to persecute anyone to the point of ostracism. Not to reach a situation where a person says to God: "Look what He is doing to me. I have nowhere to run. G-d, fight my war."
I believe with complete faith that such words cause a terrible catastrophe in the sky. G-d is the protector of everyone, but especially of the oppressed. When G-d, a gracious and merciful G-d, sees that one of His creatures is in great trouble – and begs Him for help – G-d is liable to hurt G-d in a terrible way, because G- d is also jealous and avenging.
I have a lot of evidence to back it up. I've been collecting them for years. There are well-known cases, such as the terrible death of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva, who died for what? Because they didn't treat each other with respect. The Temple was also destroyed, and the people of Israel went into exile because someone harmed his friend in public. I always think of Bar Kamtza who was deeply hurt by the humiliating treatment he received, and I know very well why God decided to destroy the Temple. I know exactly what Bar Kamtza felt.
I have other evidence from life, such as the friend who told me that two of her friends planned a big charity evening after their engagement, which was to be held exactly on the date of her wedding, even though they knew about it in advance. She begged them to move the event to another date - but they simply ignored her. On the day of the wedding, she said, she noticed that most of the friends did not come to the chuppah. It just broke under the canopy. She prayed for herself, but she couldn't help but think of the wickedness of these girls. She found herself crying under the canopy, not about her future, but about what her friends had done to her. It's been 15 years since then. One of them is single, and the other has been married for over 10 years - without children. She didn't tell anyone either, for fear of being laughed at.
I think that all the people in the world should be informed, that they should look carefully into their actions and think about whether they have ever done a terrible injustice to someone, an injustice that could have caused them to pray to God against the offender. I actually don't believe in curses. I'm not afraid of being cursed from morning until night. But if I do harm to someone, I will be very afraid , even if it is said without a voice or –because then his prayer is simply accepted only thought. God does not ignore wickedness and despicable actionswords, with , and He certainly does not ignore the cry of a human being who is in the strait .
Fifteen years ago, I got married. I was 18 at the time – maybe I did it to escape the difficulties I had. My husband is a one-of-a-kind person, sensitive, gentle and considerate. He quickly realized that he had married a woman who was wounded and mentally defeated. He invested a lot in me, and helped me collect the fragments of my soul. I think I managed to glue them together, but not perfectly. The scars are still visible, and in my opinion, they will not go away for the rest of my life. I have insecurity and fear of people who will never leave me. The only person I believe won't hurt me is my dear husband, Shichi.' Other than him, I don't believe in anyone and I don't trust anyone.
I am writing this letter with my heart's blood, even though I know that there will be those who will laugh at me: "What is she deluding herself about, that caused the disasters to happen?!" and on the other hand, there will be those who will criticize me, how I caused such disasters. I appeal to everyone who reads my story – don't judge a person until you get to his place, this is not "revenge," but a prayer to God to get out of the strait. And I also wish that no one would come to my place. I didn't pray that something bad would happen to them. I didn't want that. I just prayed to God that my troubles would end.
And finally, every Yom Kippur I say wholeheartedly that I forgive the two friends who bullied me so much. My friend also does the same to the friends who bullied her, but they still suffer. Apparently the anger from Heaven is so strong that perhaps a great correction and a request for forgiveness on their part is needed. But what can I do, when my friend doesn't find the courage to go and inform them about it?
I don't know what options are available to you, but perhaps publishing this letter will help in some way. Maybe they'll read and understand that it's them. There needs to be an end to this story, doesn't it?
