I had just moved 856 miles away from my family, escaping 13 years of sexual abuse. I was 22 years old, standing alone, raw and lost to say the least. Love was not something I ever knew, it was something I’d never been shown. I was stifling years of pain, staring down scars, scars embedded in my soul.
I was a mess and had no one or nothing so I’d find myself writing a lot, trying to give words to the emotions that I didn’t understand. I wrote when the memories of the past reared their ugly heads. I wrote to bring myself back to the surface, to talk myself out of paranoia and coax myself off of the ledges. Jumbled words everywhere, I’d write, angry, ugly, vicious words, words that brought me back, words that kept me grounded.
I often go back now and I read those words to remind myself of where I’ve been, how far I’ve come and where I’m still going and in the midst of the pages of my loneliness and pain, where my mind was shaped to distortion, and my soul was struggling for new foundation, I find these two beautiful pieces that I wrote about Alan. The only pieces of treasure written, tucked away, hidden amongst the rubble.
June 12, 1992
I met this guy Alan. I don’t know much about him but I sense he’s brilliant and his eyes are simply beautiful, the perfect color blue to go along with his lean physique and mop of unruly hair.
Truly he is the nicest, gentlest guy I’ve ever met. I say this having spent very little time with him. I say this because his body language and mannerisms whisper it boldly with each and every move. I’ve never met anyone like him. I want to mix him up, his entire being and pour him into an IV bag where I can inject him into my veins.
He keeps my attention and no one keeps my attention but lately we’ve been inseparable; together every chance we get, drive in movies, cooking, dancing, long drives and great conversations.
We met on the dance floor and that’s where I’d like our spirits to stay, entwined, under the lights, feeling free, loving life.
July 21, 1992
Alan is seeing someone else as well. He’s actually been seeing her for quite a while. I’m glad even though everyone can plainly see that she won’t keep him happy.
He tells me things. We talk a lot, he’s a really good listener and he’s great about remembering our conversations but I won’t chase, beg, share or steal any man’s heart. He is slipping away which is heartbreaking but also a blessing because I won’t be second. I won’t claw to get or live inside his heart. I won’t let him take what he wants and I won’t sign my body over to him. I will simply love him for the man he is, who he’s been to me, the love of my life, all while letting him go.
I love that I captured this time of my life, a time of big change and discovery of not just myself but of so many things. It was truly the very start of my journey to happiness after surviving that worst of the worst. This was me for the very first time with my heart wide open and with the strength to honor myself.
I will treasure these forever, read them, over and over again because truly, they really make me smile.
Read more of Kerri’s Diary:
Dear Rapist, an Open Letter to the One Who Abducted My Innocence
My Mothers Legacy of Shame – An Open Letter – From Me, the Daughter She Didn’t Protect
Love Letter to the Wounded Child Inside