"Dear John" from Speak Now
At Swift Steps, we use lyrics and songs to reflect on our own experiences with addiction, mental health, and recovery—both mine and our members.
This week's song struck a chord with many of us, leading to some amazing discussions and insights. I want to assure you that I will never share what our members discuss because of our confidentiality promises.
However, I do gather my own thoughts before the meetings, and I’m excited to share them with you each week!
“I want to assure you that I will never share what our members discuss because of our confidentiality promises.“
This week’s song is "Dear John" from Speak Now.
If you wanna take a listen:
Verse 1
“Long were the nights when my days once revolved around you”
This line takes me back to a specific, deeply unsettling experience in my past. When I was 12, I was beginning to explore what it meant to grow up—trying on hoop earrings, wearing cut-off shorts, and black V-neck tops that made me feel like I was stepping out of being a little girl. Around this time, there was a younger man, a friend of my stepdad’s, who began to notice me in ways that, at first, I liked. I caught him looking at me a lot, and I felt flattered. It felt like validation that I wasn’t a little girl anymore, that someone saw me as attractive. I didn’t understand the complexity or danger of that attention at the time.
“I didn’t understand the complexity or danger of that attention at the time.”
“Counting my footsteps, praying the floor won't fall through again”
The grooming wasn’t something I fully recognized for what it was. He wasn’t always around, but when he was, it left an impression. There was an incident when he was babysitting me and my siblings—something that never made sense, as I had essentially been tasked with childcare for my younger siblings the moment they were born. My mother’s decision to have him there felt unnecessary and strange. That day, he took me into my parents’ bedroom. I remember not understanding why or what his intentions were. He stood with his back to the door, placing himself between me and the exit so I couldn’t walk past him. Then, he asked me if I ever thought about him in a sexual manner and if I wanted to kiss him. I was stunned and immediately shouted, "NO! WHAT THE FUCK?!" He became flustered and asked me not to tell anyone. That moment left me feeling trapped and violated, and when I did tell, I wasn’t heard. I was made to feel like I was the wrong one for shouting, for speaking out. But I wasn’t the one at fault.
“That moment left me feeling trapped and violated, and when I did tell, I wasn’t heard. I was made to feel like I was the wrong one for shouting, for speaking out. But I wasn’t the one at fault.”
“And my mother accused me of losing my mind / But I swore I was fine”
This lyric reminds me of how my mom minimized the entire experience because of her addiction. She thought his potential settlement would benefit her, so he was allowed to stick around. One day, his girlfriend called our house, and I was put on the phone with her. I was exposed to blatant gaslighting: she told me he would never do something like that, I misunderstood, and that there was no way my perception could be correct. Yet, I also remember him making a comment about how I would forgive him when he got me something for Christmas. He never did get me anything, but that comment left me spiraling with questions. When did they know it was true? When did they decide that his actions were okay to overlook?
He was even allowed to spend nights in our home. I stayed awake all night, terrified he might come into my room—or worse, that he might target my brother or sister. When I voiced my fears, my mom laughed at me and said, "You really think he's going to walk past our bedroom to get to you?" Like I was crazy to think I was worth the risk. And my response was, "Yes, I do. He's a predator." But none of that mattered to her. My sense of safety wasn’t prioritized, and the situation was just another layer of chaos in a deeply dysfunctional home.
At the time, it was easier to brush it off as insignificant, to tell myself that it didn’t matter. I had already been conditioned to take on adult responsibilities, so I minimized it as just another odd occurrence in a chaotic household. Looking back, I see how much I was normalizing things that should never have been normal.
“You paint me a blue sky / And go back and turn it to rain”
The attention he gave me felt flattering at first—a kind of "blue sky" that made me feel grown-up and noticed. But the moment he acted on it, the illusion shattered. What had seemed harmless became something deeply inappropriate and confusing. It wasn’t about me; it was about him crossing boundaries that should never have been blurred.
“And I lived in your chess game / But you changed the rules every day”
“It was a game I didn’t even realize I was a part of, and I certainly didn’t know the rules.”
In hindsight, I see the grooming as a kind of manipulation, though at the time, I didn’t recognize it as such. His presence wasn’t consistent enough to make me anxious or obsessive, but it was enough to plant seeds of confusion and self-doubt. It was a game I didn’t even realize I was a part of, and I certainly didn’t know the rules.
“Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone tonight”
While this lyric doesn’t directly apply to this situation, it resonates in the sense of unpredictability. The incident itself felt like an anomaly, a blip in my life that I couldn’t fully make sense of at the time. He wasn’t a constant presence, but his actions left a lasting imprint.
“Well, I stopped picking up and this song is to let you know why”
As I grew older, I started to understand what had happened and why it was wrong. Writing about it now feels like reclaiming the narrative, naming it for what it was, and putting the blame where it belongs. The man who crossed those boundaries didn’t deserve the space he took up in my life, and processing this has been a part of my recovery.
“The man who crossed those boundaries didn’t deserve the space he took up in my life, and processing this has been a part of my recovery.”
Chorus
“Dear John, I see it all now that you're gone”
Looking back, I see the layers of grooming and the way his actions played into a larger pattern of dysfunction in my home. My mother’s choices and the chaos of addiction in our family created an environment where boundaries were blurred, and accountability was nonexistent. It’s painful to confront, but it’s also freeing to name it and move forward.
“Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?”
I was far too young to navigate the complexities of what was happening. His attention wasn’t about me; it was about him taking advantage of a situation where no one was watching. At 12, I didn’t understand that kind of predatory behavior, but I’ve had to work through the shame and confusion it left behind.
“The girl in the dress cried the whole way home / I should've known”
There’s a part of me that feels sadness for that younger version of myself, not because she "should’ve known," but because she deserved better. She deserved to feel safe, to grow up without that kind of interference.
“There’s a part of me that feels sadness for that younger version of myself, not because she “should’ve known,” but because she deserved better. She deserved to feel safe...”
Verse 2
“Well, maybe it's me and my blind optimism to blame”
“I’ve wrestled with this line—the tendency to blame myself for not knowing better, for liking the attention at first. ”
I’ve wrestled with this line—the tendency to blame myself for not knowing better, for liking the attention at first. But I’ve learned that none of this was my fault. He was the adult; he was responsible. My optimism and desire to feel seen were normal for a child on the verge of adolescence. I remember telling this to Jack and saying I was feeling myself and dressing like a normal kid, but it was provocative for me because I was so modest.
Jack responded, "It doesn’t matter if you walked out naked and approached him, you were the child." He’s right, and it took me until he said that to truly acknowledge it and let go of the part I thought I had played.
“Or maybe it's you and your sick need to give love then take it away”
His behavior was about power and control, not love. The mixed signals, the inappropriate attention, and the eventual crossing of boundaries were all part of a pattern I now recognize as predatory.
“And I'll look back and regret how I ignored when they said / 'Run as fast as you can'“
There wasn’t anyone warning me directly, but the signs were there in the dysfunction of my home. My mother’s choices and her prioritization of chaos over stability left me vulnerable. It’s taken years to forgive her and myself for what I didn’t understand at the time.
Bridge
“You are an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry”
This line captures the essence of grooming, creating confusion, blurring the lines between what’s appropriate and what’s not. It’s a tactic that leaves you questioning yourself and your reality.
“Never impressed by me acing your tests”
No matter what I did, his actions were never about me. They were about his own selfishness and disregard for boundaries. Recognizing that has been a crucial part of my healing.
“All the girls that you've run dry have tired, lifeless eyes / 'Cause you burned them out”
I wasn’t the only one affected by his behavior. Looking back, I wonder how many others experienced similar things. It’s a painful realization, but it also reinforces the importance of speaking out and breaking the cycle.
“But I took your matches before fire could catch me”
In many ways, I feel lucky that this was a singular incident. It could have escalated further, but it didn’t. That doesn’t minimize the impact it had, but it does remind me of the strength it took to move forward.
“So don't look now / I'm shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town”
This is my moment of reclaiming power. Despite what happened, I’ve built a life filled with purpose, recovery, and strength. His actions didn’t define me; my resilience does.
“His actions didn’t define me; my resilience does.”
Final Reflection
“Dear John” is a deeply personal anthem for me, not because of a romantic relationship, but because it mirrors the complexity of being groomed and manipulated as a child. Writing this is part of my recovery—naming what happened, placing the blame where it belongs, and releasing the shame I’ve carried for too long. If you’ve experienced something similar, know that it wasn’t your fault, and healing is possible. Together, we can reclaim our stories and shine brighter than ever.
Feeling connected to this reflection? Join us for our next Swift Steps meeting where we explore the emotional challenges of growth, love, and recovery. Our community is here to support you.
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