Dear Silent Crier,

I hear you. The universe hears you. In fact, every tear you shed, every sorrow you carry, and every storm you weather is not in vain. Trust me when I say, the storm shall pass.

Only the universe knows the depth of your pain. You’ve bottled it up for so long, haven’t you? The hurt, the betrayal, the silence—there’s so much that can’t be put into words. And yet, all of it is heard. Every ache in your soul, every unshed tear in your heart—it is seen.

I have cried countless days, just like you. I know the feeling of drowning in sadness with no one there to witness it. There were nights when my tears soaked through the bedsheets, and my silent sobs filled the emptiness of the room. Oh, those countless days! Days when there was no hand to hold, no one to hear my truth, no one to understand the weight I carried.

Sometimes, even when I tried to share my pain with my family, I was met with disbelief or dismissed as if it were all in my imagination. “It never happened,” they would say. Perhaps it did happen, but someone decided to bury it, to erase it from existence, leaving the rest of us to struggle in silence.

Oh, those countless days of searching for answers. The “why” haunted me, but the reason remained elusive. It wasn’t until I sought spiritual guidance that the healing began. When I went to see a spiritual advisor, something profound happened. My father’s spirit appeared and spoke through the session. He apologized for the pain he had caused. It was a moment of truth, of release, of clarity that I didn’t know I needed.

In my search for healing, I felt drawn to something specific—an aboriginal group or a place where spiritual healing could happen. I didn’t know why, but my soul was calling me there. I searched endlessly, called places, and was told time and again, “We don’t offer that kind of service.” Still, I didn’t give up.

And then, one day, I stumbled upon a website belonging to Victoria Gentlebird Wilde. It felt like fate. I made an appointment, and that day, I fasted in preparation for healing. I spent over three hours with her, and it was there, with the beating of her drum, that everything changed.

The sound of the drum reverberated through me. It was as if every ounce of anxiety, sadness, and turmoil inside me was pulled out. I could feel it leaving my body, draining through my feet, and dissipating into the earth. For the first time in years, I felt truly free.

Dear Silent Crier, know that your silent cries are not forever. They are just a passing storm. And like every storm, it will eventually end, leaving behind the possibility of sunlight and renewal.

You are not alone. You are heard. You are seen. And you are loved.