I have written this letter no less than 1,000 times since last year, but it’s only been in my head so far. Some mornings, I wake up determined to finally go through with writing it and mailing it to you, but I change my mind. On other days, I am perfectly content with letting things go, but then I speak to someone and the conversation turns to you. The shock on their face when I tell them the circumstances surrounding my absence from work renews my desire to speak my mind. But as much as I want to put every detail in writing to you, I ask myself, would it be worth it? Would it be worth the time spent reliving one of the worst years of my life? Would you even read it? Would you care? I know the answers to these questions already, which is why I have convinced myself to let things go. And I do, for a while, but the desire to get it off my chest builds again over time. So, I have decided to finally take the words locked in my head and my heart and put them in writing. Doing so is another step in my healing process. And those questions that always held me back? No longer important. Why? Because I don’t care anymore if you read it. I’m putting it out there so everyone else can read it. I have a feeling it will eventually make its way to you though. God, I hope it does.

There is no way to know how to process receiving a diagnosis such as Multiple Sclerosis. Within the span of just a few days, I was poked, x-rayed, scanned, diagnosed, and then began heavy steroid infusions to combat a major flare-up. I was simultaneously working with my doctors to set up a future treatment plan, working with my insurance company to prepare for the hundreds of thousands of dollars in claims that would eventually be coming, and learning all I could about the disease that was wreaking havoc on my body, so I could prepare for what was ahead of me. The funny thing, all of this wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was fighting the battle I was in at work each day – a battle led by you.

When I left on medical leave, I was broken, exhausted, and sicker than I had ever been. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional toll. Up until that time, I had never fought depression and thought of it only as sadness that would eventually fade. I couldn’t imagine how it could be something so dark and debilitating that a person had to fight to find the strength to get out of bed every morning and face the day. But that is exactly what it was. It was unlike anything I have ever been through. It was a persistent sadness, filled with hopelessness, fear, and constant feelings that I was drowning and would never be able to catch my breath again. All thanks to you. The years I spent working for your company, pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into it, the vacations I gave up to work on projects, the evenings and weekends I put work ahead of myself and my own family to meet company deadlines, and the after-hours phone calls I received to answer your questions, were forgotten. My being there wasn’t part of your plan following the sale of the company, so you portrayed me as the enemy, creating an environment that was virtually impossible for me to survive in. An environment that used my sickness against me, and eventually forced me to take leave to recover. But it didn’t stop there. From the moment I left, you, nor any other member of management reached out to me, coworkers were afraid to contact me for fear of retaliation, some friends within the workplace slowly faded away, no longer reaching out to check in, and one of the absolute worst, one that I still have such a hard time wrapping my head around, are the accusations that I was sabotaging company files and internal information. Seriously? How could you? You have known me for most of my adult life, worked with me for more than 20 years, praised me for my work, and seen firsthand the loyalty I provided to you and your family at the company. How dare you even suggest I would do such a thing? I feel that you never truly believed I could do it, but the fact that you suggested it shows your character and that you will do anything to get your way. Even when it destroys others. Shame on you.

For so long, I hoped, I wished, and crazy enough, I prayed that something would happen to you. I wanted you to feel what it was like to wake up each day and fight the battle I was facing. I wanted you to be in pain, feel hurt, lost, and helpless. I wanted you, and the others responsible for my own pain, to suffer. The darkness I felt towards all of you consumed me and forced me further down. I didn’t think I would ever be okay again. And in those moments, I realized – you were winning. You were all winning. You got your way, and I was suffering as a result. That’s when I decided I had to get well. I had to get strong enough to fight. I knew I wouldn’t be able to change what happened, but I was determined to make sure everyone knew exactly what you did to me.

I have overcome quite a bit these last two years, but there is one thing I still struggle greatly with. Forgiveness. I know I need to embrace it, but I’m not there yet. Maybe I will be one day. But there is one thing I do know. I may not forgive you for what you have done, but I do pray for you. And I pray for your family.

I pray that you don’t receive a life-changing diagnosis one day, and are told you have a disease that has caused lesions on your brain and spine. I pray your wife and children don’t have to watch you suffer through not only the diagnosis, symptoms, and pain of the disease but also at the hands of people who you trusted and thought recognized your value. I pray those people don’t treat you as an extension of someone they hate and seek to punish you only for that reason. I pray those people don’t attempt to ruin you and your career by telling lies and destroying the reputation you worked so hard to create.

I pray that your wife doesn’t find herself waiting for a diagnosis to make sense of all the pain and numbness she has been feeling. I pray you don’t have to sit up with her at night while she cries because she doesn’t know what is happening, and when she does sleep, you stay awake with worry. I pray that you don’t have to sit in a doctor’s office waiting for news, and then have to console her when the doctor talks about things like disability and life expectancy.

I pray that your daughter doesn’t have to tell you that she might have a potentially crippling disease. I pray that you don’t lay awake with worry for days and then sit by the phone waiting for the results to arrive. When they do, I pray that you have the strength to assure her that everything will be okay. I pray that she has a job that she loves and can continue with as long as possible. I pray they realize how wonderful she is and they appreciate her hard work and talents and therefore accommodate her so they can continue their relationship. I pray she doesn’t have to lay awake at night worrying about a paycheck or insurance and can instead focus on her health and her family.

I doubt I will ever understand why you did the things that you did. I hope that it bothers you, although I doubt it does. How can someone who orchestrates such evil feel any remorse? Maybe you will one day. And when that day comes, maybe I can find a way to forgive you. In the meantime, I will continue to pray for you. And it never hurts to ask for a little more because the worst thing that can happen is hearing “no.” So, I plan to add one more request tonight as I bow my head. I pray the Good Lord finds it in his heart to send a bolt of lightning down the crack of your behind. That would be a good starting point in my journey to forgiveness.