1 am Kerry.
The girl who was never really seen.
The girl who learned to read a room before she learned to read a book.
The girl who knew when to be quiet, when to disappear, when to hold her breath and wait for the storm to pass.
The girl who experienced things no child should ever have to live through.
The girl who learned that sometimes the people who should protect you are the people who hurt you.
The girl who grew up too quickly, The girl who learned to cope, to adapt, to make herself small, to survive.
The girl who carried pain that wasn’t hers to carry, and learned to keep going anyway.
The girl who, later in life, found herself in relationships that were unsafe, where love became control,
where kindness could turn to cruelty, and the people she trusted again chose their own needs over her safety.
The girl who learned that home isn’t always a safe place,
and that leaving can be the bravest thing you ever do.
The girl who picked herself up.
The girl who carried herself out.
The girl who learned not to ask for too much, not to need too much, not to expect too much.
The girl who could survive anything.
The girl who turned her pain into purpose.
The girl who fights for every woman to make a stand against those who hurt them.
The girl who believes every woman should be in charge of their own body, their own choices and hold their own agency.
The girl who speaks up when other women are silenced.
The girl who uses her story to support, empower and help other women.
And everyone called her strong.
But nobody knew that strong was simply
what happened when a little girl had no other choice.
Because underneath the woman is still the girl who sometimes wonders
what it might feel like to be someone’s first thought.
The girl who wanted someone to notice when she was tired.
The girl who wanted someone to say,
“You don’t have to be brave today.”
The girl who wanted somewhere safe to put down everything she’s been carrying.
The girl who wanted arms around her that didn’t eventually let go.
The girl who wanted to be loved
without having to be so strong all the time.
The girl who wanted to know what it felt like to be rescued, without having to fall apart first.
She didn’t want saving because she was weak.
She wanted to be held because she had been holding herself for far too long
And now, when I look back at her, I don’t see a girl who was broken.
I see the girl who survived
The girl who kept going even when nobody knew how hard going was.
But perhaps she deserves more than survival.
Perhaps she deserves to know what it feels like when somebody else stays.
When somebody else holds on.
When somebody else looks at her and decides,
“T’ve got you.”
Maybe every girl out there is a girl who doesn’t need rescuing, but needs somebody to notice.
A girl who needs to be loved.
A girl who needs to be held.
A girl who needs someone just to hold out their hand and say, “I’ve got you”
Because in each and every one of us, there is
‘A Girl Who.’
We’ve all overcome things in our lives that have brought us to where we are now.
And maybe, just maybe, we can stop trying to rescue ourselves and not be ashamed to ever ask for help.
