JOURNAL NO. 15
June 1975 - September 1975
Age 17

"
I love being seventeen years old, but it just isn't the easiest age in the world."




Tuesday 2:35 p.m.
June 24, 1975

I just went and bought this new Ledger at the drugstore, and I couldn't wait to sit down and begin writing. I've been so lonely lately, and the need to communicate with someone - even with an inanimate object like a Ledger - has been overpowering. I need to express all these tumultuous emotions flooding me. When I used up the last pages of my last Ledger, I decided I wasn't going to buy a new one. I don't know why. Maybe I felt competent and together enough to survive without the emotional release of writing out all my thoughts and feelings. Maybe I considered my head strong enough. Whatever the reason, I certainly don't feel that way now. In fact, I doubt that I've ever felt as weak and uncertain as I do right now.

This is going to be a different kind of Ledger, though ... I want it to be scrupulously honest and direct. I want to put every thought, every feeling, every event into words. I've decided that this summer should be one of self-analysis. I've simply got to figure myself out.

Steve hasn't called in two days, and I have this sick, empty feeling that he's following through with his threat to "just bag the whole thing." Looking back at the deceitful way I acted, the lies I told, I can't say that I blame him. I really blew it, and now I'm stuck in the middle of this mess all alone. He probably hates me, and that really hurts. I guess I just fell too hard and too fast ... now I'm sitting here with a big, bleeding hole in my heart, and he's probably on his way to Texas. I might not ever see him again. God, do you think that hurts? It does hurt. It hurts like hell, as a matter of fact.

I'm going to write later - it's 3:00 and I have to clean up the house before Dad comes home. The house is a mess, I'm a mess, the whole fucking world is a mess.

4:45 p.m.

Did a little housework, listened to records ... pasted on my big phony smile when Dad came home ... he has enough problems as it is, without having a downcast daughter to deal with. When he comes home every afternoon, he's always so anxious to tell me about his day. The least I can do is listen with (fake) enthusiasm.

Threw a potato into the oven for dinner, but for some reason I feel slightly nauseous and light-headed. Wonder why. Maybe it was the bug killer I sprayed in the kitchen to get rid of those damned flies. At any rate, I feel sick.

I just can't seem to figure out why I have such rotten luck with the opposite sex. Why do I always lose out? Why do I always end up flat on my face, squashed and trampled and broken? I gave myself to Steve too quickly, without thinking. I knew it was a dumb thing to do ... I knew I was setting myself up for a big letdown ... but it didn't seem to matter. He seemed to be so concerned and so genuinely interested in me. The sweet things he said to me, the way he touched me ... I just couldn't believe I'd been lucky enough to find someone who really cared about me.

Steve - why did we let ourselves get so tangled up? I just can't believe that I've lost him; we'd only been together for two short weeks. I'm not sure if I loved him - "love" is such a strong word - but I more than liked him. I wish there were a word in between "love" and "like" that would explain my feelings. It just doesn't seem fair. If only I could have a second chance ... if only the phone would ring and he would say he wants to see me again. There are so many things I would do differently. I would be so damned honest, it would make his head spin! Saturday he's leaving for Texas, and I'll probably never see him again. What am I gonna do???

One thing - I've gotta quit writing about it before I sink myself into an even greater depression.

Something To Appreciate: Sleeping in until noon

Before Bed:

I think the word that would best describe my mood right now is lonely. Maybe not crushingly, agonizingly lonely ... but lonely enough to make my heart feel a little empty, a little hollow. Enough to hurt.

No one called me today.  Absolutely no one. No one dropped by. The only contact I had with the world, in fact, was babysitting the kids for Mom this morning, and then the brief trip to the drugstore to buy my new Ledger. I am all alone. Naturally Steve didn't call, but I can't write about that yet. I'm just not strong enough. I can't face it - yet.

 

 

(The next few pages are ripped out or heavily edited.)

 

 

Here it looks like I'm trying to psychoanalyze my boy-addiction.

... thing, so I went from guy to guy in an effort to redeem myself? Maybe I wanted to "show" those other girls that I was just as desirable (if not more so) than they were? I really think I may have hit something. That last line, about trying to "show" the girls. I think that is really an honest (although unhealthy) motivation!

My Motivations

1. To show I'm "desirable" to boys, in an effort to "show" the girls that used to think they were better than me

2. An effort to find real "love" I've always been disappointed in love. I rarely find my ideal, and when I do something always happens to take him away from me. I've ended up shattered, crushed, torn, splintered, squashed, crumbled and bruised so often, I could probably qualify for a world's record. I fall for a line, I really think I've found Mr. Right, I live on a cloud for ten days, and BAM, it's all over as quickly as it began. But I never give up. I never stop trying! Hence - motivation #2.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday morning
June 25, 1975

I am a physical person. Not in the sense that I'm a sports nut or anything like that ... in fact, I'm quite a clod when it comes to anything remotely athletic. I can't even stand on my head. Maybe the word I'm looking for is sensual. I like to feel things, to hear things. I love being held close.  I love having the back of my neck tickled softly. I love the feeling of smooth skin, silky fabrics, soft fur. I love the smell of light perfumes. I love music. I love to use my senses to touch the world surrounding me. My deep love of music - my passion for it - has actually caused me pain. There are songs I can't listen to without crying ... the opening theme of "Dr. Zhivago," the theme from the movie "King of Kings," Nilsson's lonely "Without You" ... they reduce me to tears in seconds flat. Even the songs that our singing group at church (New Vision) performs really move me. When I'm standing there in front of the audience, singing "Through It All," my voice always gets a little husky.

I've been a lot of places
And I've seen a lot of faces
And there have been times I've felt so alone
But in my lonely hours
Those precious lonely hours
God let me know that I was still His own ...

I have some definite favorites. My favorite colors are olive green, peach, steel-blue. My favorite foods are tacos, Mexi-fries, shrimp salad, pizza. My favorite movies are "Dr. Zhivago" and "King of Kings." My favorite actors are Roddy McDowall, Michael York, Michael Brandon. My favorite music is rock.  My turn-offs are bad breath and caterpillars.

Something To Appreciate: Laughing at a funny TV show when you're depressed

 

 

 

Thursday afternoon
June 26, 1975

Question

I did something unbelievable last night ... I gave my life back to Jesus Christ. Again!  And boy was He glad to see *me*!

I still can't believe that I did it. Maybe because I don't have this overwhelming sense of peace and well-being, or because I didn't hear bells ringing and angels singing and see the sky light up with fireworks. It doesn't seem completely real, actually. And yet I know I did it. I went to see a movie at church, "The Gospel Road" with Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. I wasn't too excited ... I figured it would be a dull hour of Johnny Cash music, with pitches for Jesus strategically placed between each song. The only reason I bothered going in the first place was that I'd been feeling so isolated and cooped-up, and I knew I'd go insane if I spent one more lonely evening watching TV with Dad. Well, I was wrong about the movie. It was a documentary about the life of Christ, and it was beautiful. The photography and the music blended together to create a vivid portrait of Jesus, the human being. It skipped over all the old clichés: the Wise Men and the manger, the carpenters shop, walking on the water. Instead it showed how real Jesus was. It showed Him walking down the desert road with His disciples, and they were all laughing and talking and enjoying each other. Loving each other. The way things really must have been. It showed Jesus building sandcastles on the beach with some children. The Last Supper was a boisterous, happy affair ... Jesus knew it was the last time they would all be together, but He was determined to enjoy a good time with His beloved friends. But it also painted a portrait of Jesus, the Son of God. The Crucifixion was shown several times - first on Calgary, and then in the middle of a crowded, modern city with a noisy jet flying overhead and streets choked with traffic. Jesus - broken, crushed, dying, hanging on the cross with blood flowing from the hands nailed to the cross, looks at the city with love and forgiveness before He whispers "It is finished."

When the lights were turned on, tears were streaming down my face. I could barely speak. The movie had torn me up so much inside. Jesus was willing to suffer through all that pain and degradation, just so Terri V. could keep on sinning in 1975?  WHY?

Tom saw me crying, and before I went home he cornered me in the hallway. "Do you want to talk about it?" he said. I nodded. In his office, Tom read to me from Hosea, a verse that basically said "Your deeds are keeping you from turning to God." I started crying again, and for some reason I opened up and told him everything ... about Steve, about our sexual relationship and me thinking for a while that I was pregnant, the drinking, the drugs, the lying, everything. He listened, and he heard me, and he understood. He asked me if I wanted to pray. I didn't know what to say. I sat there for a full two minutes, torn in half, unable to answer. Finally, I gave a tiny nod. I WANTED TO PRAY! I confessed everything, asking God to forgive me and cleanse me of my sins, to create in me the desire and the strength to serve Him. I claimed the blood of His son, Jesus, to renounce Satan's presence in me, and I asked the Holy Spirit to flood me and make me a new person.

When I finished, I was still crying. I slipped into the sanctuary for a moment before I went home. It was quiet and dark and empty, and I sat down in a front pew and added a silent P.S. "Lord," I prayed, "Please take away my feelings for Steve. Help me to stop missing him. Replace those old feelings with feelings of friendship and concern, nothing more." I walked home in the cold, clutching my Bible. I slipped in through the front door, hung up my coat and, my mind still in a whirl, sat down to carefully re-read the book of Hosea. I penciled several principle verses.

I dreamed about Steve all night. When I woke up in the morning, I felt happy and content ... until I remembered my dreams.

Today was dull - damned dull. I cleaned the house, took a hot bath, washed my hair, heated a can of chili for lunch, checked the mail, talked to the dogs, watched an old Clark Gable movie, listened to records, talked to Grandma on the phone. The whole time I could hear my heart whispering, "Steve is leaving today ... Steve is leaving today." I might never see him again. Tonight I'll stay home and mourn. Maybe I'll clean my bedroom, or write a poem, or watch some TV. Maybe I'll go for a walk. Maybe I'll just sit by the phone, wishing it would ring. At any rate, I'm not going to be a whole person until I get Steve out of my system ... until I can forget about him. He implanted himself in my heart, and it's going to hurt to remove him.

As for my renewed relationship with Christ, I've decided to spend some time each day reading His word, trying to discover just who He is and what He wants with me. I'm going to let Him speak to me and teach me.

 

 

Seeing
by Kevin Lanning

Some people see:
Sunsets
And friends going away;
The wind blowing leaves from the trees,
And ships pulling away from the dock.

I see:
Sunrises
And new people to meet;
The wind freeing the leaves from the trees
And you sailing home to me.

I love that poem. Kevin is such a neat, introspective person, and his poetry always seems to express the way that I feel. This poem is my favorite ... it talks about two different ways of looking at the same thing. If applied directly to my life and the way I feel right now, it would probably sound like this:

Seeing (The Terri Vert Everything-Is-About-*Me*-Remix Version!)

Yesterday I saw:
the end of my junior year
and rain,
endless days of loneliness
and you, saying goodbye to me.

Today I see:
the beginning of the rest of my life
and the promise of summer sun;
time to grow and become myself
and new loves ahead to replace the old.

 

Something To Appreciate: The tanginess of cold lemonade.

Something To Appreciate: An hour-long bath with no one pounding on the bathroom door.

 

7:30 p.m.

Aunt Ann just called - she and Uncle Dick want me to babysit for them tomorrow night. Nothing else to do, so I said "sure." I'll make some money and I'll get out of the house. Not as neat as a date, but still it's something to do, and for some reason I feel happy about it.

 

 

Song

You used to make me laugh
When you tickled the back of my neck
and said I was "decent." 
You tried to kiss me on the boat
But I laughed and turned my face away.
I laughed when you snored in your sleep.
You picked me up and held me over your head
and I laughed.
I thought I would choke when you discovered I had ticklish feet:
You could make me laugh until the tears came to my eyes
and I was sure my sides would split.
I laughed because I loved you
and it was wonderful.
Until the day I turned around and
you were gone forever.
That was the only time you didn't make me laugh
Because you had made me cry.

 

 

I've been sitting here, giving things a lot of thought, and I've realized that the only way I'm going to be able to forget about Steve is to find someone new. But how? No "nice" guy is ever going to want me for a girlfriend: a status-seeker can't afford to soil his reputation by having a scarlet woman by his side (like Dean, for instance).  But still, I don't want a dope freak or a sex maniac for a boyfriend. What do I want? There have only been a few guys who have had that certain "something" ... that spark, that intangible quality that turns me on. It's impossible to describe, but once I feel it, I'm hooked. 

 

 

 

Friday evening
June 27, 1975

Sitting here in Uncle Dick's living room, babysitting my cousin Les.

Something incredible happened today, Ledger: Steve called me.

I was still sound asleep at noon, when the jangling of the phone jolted me awake. "Darn it," I muttered, as I groggily reached for the phone.

"Hi Terri," a painfully familiar voice said.

I sat straight up in bed. "Who is this?" I asked. Hope had flooded every nerve in my body, every crevice.

"Uh ... this is Steve," he said. "I just called to say my last goodbye."

I was wide awake then. For some reason I felt an inexplicable joy and calm. "Are you leaving (for Texas) today?" I asked softly.

"Yeah ... we're leaving in about ten minutes," he said. "I wanted to give you a call before I left."

All I could manage to say was, "I'm glad." 

We talked for ten minutes, and I could feel tears flooding my eyes ... tears of relief, of love, of happiness. Tears of sadness. Farewell tears. I thought it highly appropriate that in the background I could hear the strains of Elton John's "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" playing on the radio - a song that never fails to touch my heart. It was almost as though this was some sort of old movie, complete with poignant soundtrack. The two star-crossed lovers saying goodbye to each other. I wish I could remember what we said - I wish I could have tape-recorded the conversation, to preserve it and cherish it forever - but since I didn't, I'll try and remember some of the things we said to each other. He apologized for getting so mad at me, for one thing, and I apologized for lying to him. I remember saying, "Steve, I was scared."  Then I said that I didn't want him to leave with any bad feelings, and he said he didn't have any. He asked if he could still write to me. He ASKED!!  I started crying, and I gave him my address. I said, "Will I be able to write to you too? I mean, will you have a permanent address or what?" and he assured me that he wanted me to write to him. I laughed at that - I said, "You don't know what you're getting yourself into ... I write thousand-page letters!" He laughed too and said he didn't care, he would enjoy reading them. He explained that he hates writing, and apologetically said "I'll look for any excuse I can to put off writing, but don't worry - I'll write."

He said, "Have you heard anything else?" and I instinctively knew he meant about the pregnancy. I said, "No, it's too soon. I don't want to talk about it, because I don't want to get into any more arguments."  I wasn't pregnant  --  at least, not yet  --  but I didn't want him to know that.  I felt that the uncertainty worked in my favor.

"We aren't going to argue," he said. "I'll write to you when we get down there, we'll talk about it then." Then he asked me what I've been doing all week. "Have you gone to any parties?" 

I said yes, I'd gone to one, but it was dull. "In a way," I said, "I'm glad you didn't call all week. It gave me a chance to do a lot of thinking."

"Well, we've been really busy," he said, "getting ready to leave and everything." Then he asked me if I was going to wait for him to come back and visit me ... at least, that's what it sounded like he said.

"I'm going to wait for you, Steve," I said. "I promise."

"That's good," he said.

"I'm going to miss you," I said softly, but it was time for him to go so I told him to take care of himself. In typical Steve P. fashion, he had to say at least one infuriating thing. "Be good," he drawled, and then he said teasingly, "but stay out of beds." 

I could have killed him for that, but instead I ignored it. "Goodbye," I whispered. Elton John was still singing, and I joined him in song, tears streaming down my face ...

 

 

 


Thursday
July 3, 1975

Better Off Dead

Steve has been gone for almost a week now, and things have been going up and down. I've survived. Still haven't had a letter from him, but that isn't what's getting me down. I'm just confused because I can't seem to get things straightened out in my head. I've been surprisingly "un-depressed" about the whole thing ... I mean, I don't spend whole hours at night weeping into my pillow. I don't listen to sad songs on the radio, or gaze at his picture in our high school yearbook. I am sad that he's gone, and I'm lonely for him at times, and I'm a LOT sorry that I ever allowed myself to get into this mess in the first place. But it isn't destroying me. I wish I could just scrape my heart clean of all these lingering fragments of feeling. I wish I could find someone new!! I wish I could feel assured that something or someone neat & exciting & special is just around the corner. Not another mistake, like Steve, but someone who really cares about me.

I've Got A Line On You (brings back memories of Steve)

Maybe I'm aiming too high. Maybe there's no such thing as the "ideal" boyfriend. Maybe there's not even any such thing as true love. Maybe somebody just made the whole stupid thing up.

I'm lonely. DAMNED lonely. I'm sick and tired of guys using me, pushing me around, dating me just to see what they can get and nothing more. I'm sick of the whole stinking rotten business. Whatever happened to all the "nice guys" in the world? Have they all turned into callous, unfeeling sex fiends, drug addicts and alcoholics ...?? I'm tired of being lonely, but I'm also tired of going out with guys. How weird can you get? I'm sick of both: stuck here in the middle. Part of me is desperate for male attention, the other part of me is ready and willing to give up men for good. What do I do? Go out with girls??

I wonder if Dan will call tonight, if I'll see him or if I'm going to sit home alone tonight (anything good on TV?) Hot, sluggish, remnants of a hangover from last night and the night before. Actually it would probably be a good idea for me to stay home and rest tonight, especially since I have to get up early tomorrow morning and sing at church. Fuck. I've been going out with Dan Edmunsen this week, off and on ... he's 19, tall, good-looking, has his own house. The 4th of July was WILD. Feels good. No more worries about Steve. Parties, drinking, running around ... it's all a part of this freedom I feel. Dan is neat.

 

 

BASIC STEPS TO SPIRITUAL MATURITY

1. Principles INSIGHTS FOR ACCEPTANCE OF SELF

2. God prescribed us before birth Psalm 139:16 2. The cause of inferiority is comparison of II Cor. 10:12 unchangeable features Appearance Aptitudes Parentage Social Heritage

3. God is not finished making you yet Ephesians 2:10

4. Outward beauty is not related to inner happiness Isaiah 53:2

5. God has a universal inward ideal: the character of Jesus Christ Matt. 5:3-12

6. Our happiness & achievement are based on our ability to experience His inward ideal Matt. 6:33

7. If necessary, God sacrifices outward beauty to develop inward character II Cor. 4:16

8. Self-worth is increased by reproducing Christ's character in others II Cor. 3:2

9. Differences in unchangeable features are God's special frames to highlight His unique message through us II Cor 12:9

Consequences of a negative self-image:
* An inability to trust God
* A resistance against authority
* A hindrance to genuine friendships (hinders our response to others, and hinders * their response to us)

 

 

THINGS TO PACK FOR THE BUS CARAVAN

  • Shampoo
  • Comb & brush
  • Rubber bands, bobby pins, barrettes
  • Head scarf
  • Several rollers
  • Pssst Instant Shampoo
  • Face cream
  • Wash cloth \
  • Makeup kit (including tweezers, Vaseline & mirror)
  • Hand & body lotion
  • Lip balm
  • Soap
  • Hand towel
  • Body towels (2)
  • Deodorant
  • Nail file
  • Polish
  • Razor w/blades
  • Baby powder
  • Suntan lotion
  • Electric shaver
  • Bible
  • Notebook, pens
  • Money
  • Camera w/film and flashcubes
  • Jewelry
  • Aspirin

 

 

Diary entries from the 1975 Bus Caravan.

July 13, 1975
Sunday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Our youth group left this morning after church for Oregon.  Spent nearly 8 hours on the hot, bumpy bus  --  glad to finally reach our camp, Cove Palisades State Park in Oregon.  After the guys pitched the tents, we all drove down to the swim beach and had an hour in the great water.  Dinner, devotions, free time until bedtime at 11:00. 

Everyone seems to be on good terms  --  Karen is especially happy.  We (in our tent) stayed awake, LAUGHING, until past 1 a.m.  Got in a lot of trouble, but fun.




Karen and me, first day of the Bus Caravan
Cove Palisades State Park, Oregon
July 13, 1975









July 14, 1975
Monday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Spent the day on the other side of the lake (the Marina), swimming, water-skiing, etc.  Sunburn on my nose and cheeks, ouch.  Felt kinda depressed and lonely because of Phil and the way he and I seem to be falling further and further apart.  He was spending a lot of time with the new girl, a cute blonde named Sherrie.  I hated her, of course.  

Dinner, after-dinner devotions, evening free time  ...  I was still very depressed.  Felt awful.  Phil and I aren't even speaking because of a dumb argument, and I feel terrible, empty.  Hope this whole thing blows over tomorrow.




Swimming at Cove Palisades State Park
July 14, 1975









July 15, 1975
Tuesday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Definitely a better day.  We went to the beach again today, and Phil and I patched things up.  We sat by each other at all the meals and spent a lot of time talking.  In fact, he seemed to really be going out of his way to be sweet. 

Kar and me took the intertube out into the middle of the lake.

Fireside tonight after dinner and showers  ...  neat.  Sat by Phil and thought about Dan, what a mess I've gotten myself into  --  but not worried.


Karen and I floating in Lake Billy Chinook
July 15, 1975

July 16, 1975
Wednesday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

We got up early (6:00), broke camp, packed, and spent nearly nine hours travelling in the bus into southern Oregon.  I sat by Phil the whole way, fell asleep on his shoulder.  I feel really awful about this, but I REALLY have a feeling that I love him as more than a friend? 

Our new camp is at Lake Selmac  --  lots of bees, lots of trees, lots of wide-open space.  Dinner, the guys played football.

Still have a lot on my mind, with Phil at the top of the list.




Phil and I at Lake Selmac, Oregon
July 1975









July 17, 1975
Thursday
Bus Caravan  If I could re-live just one day out of my teen years, this one might be it.

Dear Diary:

We all went to The Oregon Caves today  --  really gorgeous, a witness to God's glory.  Of course, Phil and I were together all the time. 

When we got back to camp, had our devotions, free time (Karen, Sherie & I went swimming in the mucky lake). 

After dinner Phil and I went down to the beach alone and sat on the dock for an hour, talking, skipping rocks, etc. 

Tonight we had a SUPER fireside  --  sang songs, shared testimonies, and everyone was very, very deeply moved by the Spirit.  Phil started holding my hand during the closing prayer.  WE'RE BACK TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!




Phil and me sitting outside the entrance to the Oregon Caves
July 17, 1975









July 18, 1975
Friday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Got up early in the freezing cold  --  ate a hurried breakfast and loaded the bus.  A short, two-hour drive into Northern California.  We set up camp in the Jedediah Smith State Park.  Very woodsy!

We had the whole day for free, so Phil and me and Karen and a bunch of the other kids walked down the road to the delicatessan.  Sat around drinking Cokes, listening to the jukebox. 

More free time after dinner.  Phil and I are definitely together  ...  "hmmmmm."

Oh  --  I called home, and Dad said I got a letter "from Texas."   STEVE!!!?!?!?!?!?



   

Left: Hanging out at the deli in Crescent City (my back to camera, blue bandana in hair)
Right: Sitting outside a store in Northern California









July 19, 1975
Saturday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

We got to sleep in late (8:00, wow!) and after breakfast Kar and me took a nap in the tent.  After lunch, a bunch of us loaded up the bus and went to Crescent City to shop and walk around. I bought 2 rings and some stationery  --  we all had Cokes.  After town we all went to the delicatessan again  --  SUPER fun. 

Tonight we had the neatest fireside  ...  we all shared in edification, building each other up.  Everyone was crying  --  I shared, and I was so choked up and moved. 

After the fireside, Phil and me sat on the picnic table and talked about everything  ...  he told me that he loves me.  I am absolutely broken in two.  And loving every minute of it.










July 20, 1975
Sunday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Another moving day.  Got up early, loaded up the bus and spent 3-4 hours travelling along the Oregon coast.  Made a couple of stops  --  had lunch in a small park.  Phil and I very close, Karen  and I still good good friends. 

Camping at Honeyman State Park on the Oregon Coast  --  very nice park.

All played cards tonite, talked, good time.  (Remember having grass shoved down your throat by Phil & friends?)  As a matter of fact I DO remember that.  I also remember thinking This is probably one of the happiest times of my life. 





Karen and I during the Bus Caravan (wearing the T-shirts we stole from Phil and John).
I was aware that I was having the time of my life.
July 1975






July 21, 1975
Monday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Slept in late (skipped breakfast).  Went down to the beach  --  I rode in the boat while people were skiing.  After lunch we went and rode in the dune buggies.  Played Wink 'Em tonite, free time until bed.  Phil and I were together every possible minute, and he makes me feel alive & special again.  Steve was a mistake, Dan was a diversion, but Phil is a blessing.




Phil and me on the church bus (along with our pal Karen Lamb)
I was sure that things would work out this time.
July 1975







July 22, 1975
Tuesday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

Busy day.  We all drove to the ocean today, ate lunch by the dunes.  Windy, cold  --  I'm pretty sick so I stayed in the bus.  Wish this retreat could go on and on and on  ...  it's been so beautiful and so perfect. 

Had our final campfire tonite  --  not as tearful as the last one, but joyous.  Afterwards (11:30 p.m.) we loaded the bus and drove to the local hamburger joint for a snack.  Phil and I sat ALONE on the bus until nearly 3 a.m., and he actually kissed me.  He's such a sweetie.








July 23, 1975
Wednesday
Bus Caravan

Dear Diary:

We had to get up at 5:30 this morning to pack up and get ready to go home.  My cold is making me miserable.  The ride was long (10 hours), hot and terrible, but I sat by Phil and read my book to keep myself occupied.  I'm not sure but I think I really love him!! 

Got to the church around 5:00  --  felt so good to get home!!!  Read my letter from Steve and i almost cried 'cause it's super-sweet.  Took a shower  ...  feel clean, sleepy, stuffed-up and loved. 

Talked to Phil on the phone for half an hour before bed  ...  a REAL bed!!   Not a sleeping bag!!!






And now it's back to the regular journal  ...

Wednesday
July 23, 1975

You're looking at a new Terri Vert ... I've been resurrected in Christ, and I'm free, finally free from sin! From the drinking, the drugs, the sex traps, the non-Christian guys, the dishonesty.  I got home from the ten day Bus Caravan to California this afternoon, and although I'm too tired to write about it now, I just want to say how very happy I am to be sharing a part of Christ's new life. I have Phil for a boyfriend again, I have God on my side, and no big hassles yet. Thanks, Lord. Life can be beautiful at times.

 

 

 

 

 

Friday afternoon
July 25, 1975

Lots of time to write now. Sat down and completely re-read this Ledger ... decided not to tear out all the pages that talk about my past "mistakes."  If anyone ever gets hold of this Ledger and reads it, I would die ... but I just can't bear to destroy anything I've written. Not yet, at least.  (A couple of years later I came back and ripped them out anyhow.  Damn.)

I got a letter from Steve while I was in California last week.

Dear Terri,

How is everything? Hope fine. Well, finally got a letter from me, hope you're not mad, but it's really hard for me to write letters no matter how bad I want to. Anyhow, we made it. Really having a good time. No more problems, feels good.  How's dead Seattle? Still dead probably. Have you been keeping busy, going out a lot? I hope not, but I can't stop you, I'm not good enough to. I haven't went to work yet, but when I decide to I have a job waiting. I've just been getting drunk and taking it easy, the usual for me but so what, I enjoy it.  Hope you haven't forgot about me although I don't blame you if you do, after the way I treated you. Saying sorry is probably not enough, but I am anyway. It hurt me more than it did you because I realize what I did - had the best thing that ever happened to me and blew it by taking somebody else's advice. What a stupid move - I really messed things up. Hope you can forgive me, and if you don't all I can say is you're really the best person I've ever met and I had my chance and blew it. I'll pay for it, worse than I am now, but I'll still hope maybe it will be easier that way. But please, if you really care at all, try to forgive me for being such an ass. I really lost my head.

Well, I'd better stop boring you, it's probably making you sick but I had to do it because it means a lot to me. So do you, if for some reason you think of writing me back, please please do, it would really make me feel good. I would really like to hear from you - even if it's telling me off, please send it. At least then I'll really know how you feel. Thank you for listening to me, Terri. I miss you and want you real bad.

Love Always,
Steve

 

His letter really tore me in half ... I wrote back last night, a two page letter that said I still cared for him a great deal and that I missed him - but I pointed out how hard it was, with him so far away in Texas & me here in Seattle. I said that I'd been to California with my church youth group, and the trip had changed me into a "different" person. I pray that he'll understand.

The Bus Caravan was incredible ... absolutely the BEST (church retreat) I've ever been on. Lots of sunshine, great swimming, good friends, meaningful fellowship, happy times. I was happy practically every single minute. I've often said that the '75 Bus Caravan was the best ten days of my teen years  ...  and it's true.  And the neatest part is that Phil & I got back together!!!!!!   It's so hard to believe,  but it's true! Everyone knew that I was still kinda hung up on Phil, but rumor had it that he was really hung up on Debby B., the sweet little seventh grader at our church. I figured that I didn't stand a chance against her. She's so sweet and kind and godly, and next to her I look like a street tramp. But I was so wrong. Phil and I found our way back to each other anyway. I love him, and he loves me, but our love comes through Christ. I just can't talk about it yet ... it's something so neat and wonderful and private, I want to keep it inside my heart for a while, marveling at it.

I don't want to drink anymore. I don't want to go to any more wild parties, smoke pot, take drugs, get physically involved with guys, hang out with non-Christians, steal, swear, lie. I want this clean, pure, untouched feeling to last and last and last ... this sense of being one in Him.

Father, I want to thank you for everything I have.
It is from Your hand that all blessings fall
And now
In this quiet untouched moment
I wish to open my heart and receive
All that you have for me.
Your promise is worth far more
Than I could ever conceive of
And the miracle of your love
Is far more real than any other Truth.

 

PHIL and TERRI!

 

 

 


Saturday evening (early)
July 26, 1975
Wondering Aloud

I'm going to the movies with Phil, Karen and Mike Nyholm tonight. Just stepped out of the shower and into clean clothes, and I feel sweet and clean-smelling and good. I feel like I really BELONG somewhere, and this feeling of acceptance makes my heart sing.

This song ("Wondering Aloud") by Jethro Tull brings back sad/sweet memories of Steve ... and for some reason I feel a little lonely for him. A time in my life, brief but beautiful, that I will always cherish and remember. Steve ... why couldn't things have worked out differently? Will I ever forget you?

And it's only the giving
That makes you
What you are ...

 

 

 



Sunday
July 27, 1975

Middle of the night, and I'm about ready to drop from exhaustion. Sooooo tired. Spent the whole day with Phil, and I still haven't managed to sort out my true feelings. Everyone seems to be dead set against our being together: they all feel sorry for Debby, the sweet young thing he jilted in favor of me. They all thought Phil & Debby made such a darling couple, and now I'm coming across as the scheming villainess who took him away from her. Even Phil's parents feel this way to a degree. Really makes me feel BAD. But what can I do? Phil loves me, not Debby, and who am I to argue?

 

 

 

 

Monday morning
July 28, 1975

Rendezvous

Just got up. RAIN??? Cloudy, cold, overcast. What a change. Housework piled up to the ceiling. I've gotta turn on my engine and start working.

My new clock radio is missing, and I am MAD. I think one of Dad's "friends" must have taken it. They were all bombed on Saturday night.

Later (Evening)
All By Myself

Phil hasn't called me all day, and I'm trying hard not to worry. I guess I'm just not secure enough in his love ... I keep getting the impression that he's wondering if he made a wise decision, choosing me over Debby. Maybe I'm just being dumb. First chance I get, I'm going to just come right out and ask him how he feels. I hope he calls tonite.

Still raining, cloudy and cold ... feels like a night in October! I'm sitting here in my bedroom after dinner (spaghetti - I cooked it, and it was great!), feeling relaxed and private and cozy. Surrounded by all my beloved possessions; feeling a sense of myself. This room is MINE. It's an expression of my own personality. A private little world, all my own, that I love and cherish.

I'm still not sure how I feel about Phil, but I think I'm really beginning to care about him. I'm just not positive. I guess that's because I don't really know how he feels, and I'm afraid to jump into any kind of emotional commitment without fully knowing the score. Phil is definitely the sweetest, kindest, most understanding guy that I've ever known. He has his head on straight. He also has a terrific sense of humor, which makes him fun to be with. Everybody likes him. I'm beginning to learn something important, that the guys with the gorgeous faces and magnificent builds aren't always the best bargain. Phil may not be Mr. America, but he has a big heart and an understanding nature that means more than all the sex appeal in the world. I really think I love him!

The Bus Caravan was so darned neat ... almost perfect. We had so much fun, all grew so close. I wish I could re-live it.

Goodnight Vienna

I completely forgot to mention this, but Saturday evening before I went to the movies with Phil and Karen and Mike, Steve called me long-distance from Texas!!!!!! I almost died from shock! He hadn't gotten my letter yet (I mailed it the day before) and he was afraid that maybe I really hated him and didn't want to answer. He was worried!  We talked for nearly 15 minutes, and it was so incredibly wonderful to hear his voice. I think he honestly misses me. You have no idea how much that means to me. I have Phil now (I think) but a part of my heart belongs to Steve and always will ... a part that I can never give to anyone else.

Wish Phil would call me.

More Later:

Well, I talked to Phil for about an hour on the phone, but I still don't feel very reassured. Maybe he was just tired. At any rate, he didn't sound awfully reassuring.

Steve ... I wish you were here.

Pain, sorrow, tears
Long lonely years
With love having passed me by
I could live a lie for you
But truth is the road I choose
Knowing all I need to do
Is give to you.
Nights, winters, years
Pain, sorrow, tears
Cannot hold me now.
I'm a fool to fall for you
But here in the morning light
Tell me, how can love be wrong
And feel so right ... ?

~ Justin Hayward & John Lodge, "Blue Jays"

 

 

 

Tuesday morning
July 29, 1975

Sitting in bed. Another cold, gray, stony day. Cough, cough. Wrote Steve another letter last night, and as soon as I get up I'll mail it. Hope he doesn't mind this sudden barrage of letters from me, but with things still so uncertain between me & Phil, I need some sort of security to cling to.

Plans today: Stay indoors and clean my room.

My dreams last night - a dream I have quite frequently - it was Christmas Eve, and I suddenly realized that I hadn't bought presents for anybody. In a panic I went to the nearest shopping center and ran all over the place, desperately trying to find suitable gifts. Dan and Kevin were sitting there and I went over to talk to them, but Dan was sorta mad at me because I hadn't called him.

 

O Lord
This feeling inside of me can't be wrong;
this love, this joy, this sense of overwhelming, all-engulfing peace.
I love you
I love all who are Yours
And the greatest joy is knowing
that this love is returned.
You love me, Father,
In spite of a thousand things
All the faults I see within myself
Are beautiful in Your sight.
You love me In spite of my tongue-tiedness,
In spite of my jealousy and fears,
In spite of my weaknesses.
You love me
In spite of the fact that I turn away from you so often.
You love me!

 

 

Something to appreciate: A Christ-centered relationship with a super boyfriend

 

 

Tonight is Bible Study - good. I'll get to see Phil and all my church friends. Maybe we'll even go out somewhere afterwards.

I get my pictures from the Bus Caravan back from the printers today ... can hardly wait. Hope they turn out good.

Semi-happy. God is sitting here next to me.  

 

 

 

Friday afternoon
August 1, 1975

Oh Ledger ... have I ever got a problem!!!! Got another letter from Steve today, and you'll never believe what it says:

Dear Terri,

Hello again, how's everything going. I hope good.

Got your letter a couple of days ago, then went camping again for two days so didn't have time to write back earlier. Well anyhow, that was a nice letter, really enjoyed reading it. Hope that's how you really feel. You said I thought it was a big joke. I don't understand why you think that, after the way you saw me act after I thought you were lying to me. I was so upset, I didn't know how to act, so I just got mad and made things worse. I never lied to you, and I told you lots of things I never told anyone and will never tell anyone again, because it's too easy to get hurt. I don't like to write letters like this, because I like to just KNOW the truth and not have to ask for it. But I guess I'll have to, because I think I love you. So please be truthful with me.

Write me and tell me the truth about everything you lied to me about, and if you can, WHY you did it. If you do, then I can really, really know how I feel about you. I'd really like to totally forgive you, but I can't until I know the truth. So please don't be scared to tell me the truth. It would only be making things better ... believe me, I know. I'm sorry I had to write that, but it had to be done because I've been thinking a lot, and I miss you and WANT you bad - real bad. If you want me as much as I want you, you don't have to lie to me to get me, you should know that.

I hope this is the last letter I'll have to write like this. I hope that both of us can be really sure how we feel. I know how I'd want it, but we've got to make it that way so please help straighten out everything, so I can be sure. Then we will have no more problems. Well, thank you and don't get mad at me for what I've said. I really can't say what I mean. I'm no good at this. I didn't mean to hurt you, I'd never want that to happen to someone I love so don't let it hurt you. Just think seriously about it and write back and tell me what I want to know.

Love,
Steve

P.S. Hope I didn't blow it.

Ledger, what am I going to DO?? I can't stop crying, and I feel absolutely torn in half. Who do I love? Do I love Steve? Do I love Phil? How can I hurt either one of them, when they both mean worlds to me?? How did I get myself into this mess? How do I get OUT???

Of course Tragic Heroine Terri is secretly loving every minute of this romantic dilemma.

 

August 2, 1975
Saturday

Diary Entry:

Grandma and Grandpa took me shopping this morning and bought me a gorgeous new formal, a pastel green print, long and flowing and very feminine.  I love it.  Spent the afternoon getting ready for the wedding tonite (Karen's father)  --  Phil came and picked me up at 7:30. 

The wedding was very simple and very beautiful.  Reception afterwards at Karen's  --  we "young people" played pool and listened to records.  Around midnite, Mike drove Karen, me and Phil (still all dressed up in our finery) to the pizza parlor.  Mmm. 

Phil and I sat out in his car talking until 4 a.m.!!   And he told me that he loves me  ....  (sob)

Grandma took this picture of Phil and I, dressed for the wedding
(She called Phil a "tall cool drink of water)
August 2, 1975

 

 

 

Monday night
August 4, 1975

Tried to sleep a few minutes ago (it's nearly midnight) but I got to thinking about Phil, and imagining what it would be like to be married to him, and all of a sudden my heart was just filled with such an overwhelming love for him, I had to turn on my bedside light and express it in words. Ledger - it has suddenly and fully hit me. I love him! I wasn't sure before. I was afraid that maybe I was just casting around for someone to love me, and good ol' reliable Phil was handy. Now I know that isn't true. I love him ... so much so. We are so different, with such completely different attitudes, and yet it seems almost as though he's a part of me. I can't imagine my life without him - as a friend, a brother, a lover - I can't see myself married to anyone but him. Maybe I'm being dumb, or typically Terri Vert ... maybe as soon as we graduate our lives will go in opposite directions. Or maybe we'll remain close friends for years and years, writing occasional letters and exchanging Christmas cards. Or maybe - the dream I cherish most dearly - we'll get married in a few years. I can just see it.

The thing is, Ledger, that I've been dreaming this same dream for six years!

I still haven't answered Steve's letter. I can't seem to find the right words - my futile attempts come across sounding prissy and patronizing.

Dear Steve,

I really appreciated your letter, and the fact that you hold no hard feelings against me. I know I was wrong to lie to you, and I hope you can forgive me and continue to remember me in the kind way you do now. I really think you're a special person, and we had a lot of good times together. But - Steve, there can never be anything between us again, except friendship. You know that's the truth. We had fun together, but we're too different to make a relationship work. It was neat while it lasted, but it's over now. I really love Phil now, in a deep and lasting way, and there isn't room for anyone else ...

Before Bed:

Went to Phil's house tonight to watch TV, and when he brought me home and kissed me goodnight I FINALLY had the courage to tell him that I love him ... and I DO! I DO!

Problem Areas:

HIPS
Stomach
Thighs
Waistline
Weight: 125 (SHOULD be 118 or 119)

EXERCISE & Cutting down on between-meal snacks
Don't just talk about it - DO IT!

 

 

 

Wednesday
August 6, 1975

BAD MOOD. I hate Sherrie. Phil has all kinds of plans and secrets that apparently don't include me, but DO include her. I feel awful.

 

 

 

Thursday
August 7, 1975

Summer vacation is almost over ... I can't believe it. Almost time for my senior year. So many worries. Where should I have my senior pictures taken? What do I wear? How much will it cost? Where will I find the money to do my school-clothes shopping? Where will I go to shop? Should I cut my hair? If so, how much and at which salon? Will Phil & I stay together longer this year? Do I really love him? Does he really love me?

Our "anniversary" is on the 17th of every month ... that means we're ten days short of one month. Last year we went together for a little over two months. Will it be longer this time?

Yes.
Life is still and quiet and clocks ticking gently and candles burning beside my bed and sleepy.
All the world is sleeping.
I am loving Phil, and knowing (really knowing) that he is feeling the same way.
I dream ...
I can see Phil as a lawyer, and I am his devoted wife, fixing him breakfast in an orange and yellow kitchen on a Monday morning.
I can see him leaning across the breakfast table to kiss me, smelling like toast and jelly and aftershave lotion.
I can see Christmas morning with the children, laughing and opening presents and listening to squeals of joy and seeing enraptured smiles as baby dolls and electric trains and teddy bears are exposed to the snowy world.
I see a love stretching out over forever and ever and never ending.
Yes.

 

 

This ledger is dumb. I think I'll throw it away when I'm done with it ... I'd hate to have anyone read any of this trash I've been writing.

(No it's not! I think it's very interesting and very well written! Terri in 1978)

 

 

 

 

August 17, 1975

My period started after dinner this evening, and now (10:04 p.m.) cramps and a headache are preventing me from sleeping. Thought I would write a little in my ledger in an effort to relax.

I've been thinking about this particular ledger, and I've almost decided to destroy it. I think I've been too blatantly honest in writing about my sexual experiences and feelings; and the thought of ANYONE ever reading it scares me immeasurably. I've exposed too much of my inner self, and the only thing I can do now is make certain this notebook never falls into the wrong hands. In the meantime, however, I may as well continue to write in this frank way about the things that are on my mind. Sex is part of that, naturally, and I don't think I should try to suppress my feelings of sexuality from myself, for heavens sake.

Lately I've really been thinking about marriage. I'm seventeen years old now - which I realize is not the height of maturity - but people all around me, close to MY age, seem to be getting married and engaged right and left. It scares me!  Kids, MY age, all seem to be marching to the altar at an alarming rate. It's hitting too close to home for comfort! So naturally I've really been thinking about marriage and kids and the whole bit quite seriously. Not considering it as an immediate possibility for me, of course, but just wondering if it will ever happen to me. Will I ever marry? Will I have children of my own? Will my marriage be a happy, fulfilling one? Will I ever have to face the heartbreak of divorce, or the death of my husband? If I do, will I be strong enough to handle it? So many questions, and at times I feel so painfully impatient because I want the answers NOW. I feel so young and naive and unaware and STUPID ...

Yes, sure, I want to get married. I don't think I would feel successful in life unless I did. And yes, I want kids. Someday. I don't want to get married too young. I want to enjoy a few years of living on my own, learning about myself as an individual, before I commit myself to a lifelong partnership with a man. Twenty-two sounds like the right age? And yet, when I think of how close I came to marrying Steve this summer ... not that he asked, mind you, or that the thought of asking ever even crossed his mind  ...   it scares me out of my mind. It shows me how completely I could slip; how easily I could lose control. Of course, at the time I was afraid I was pregnant (afraid? I was petrified, terrified beyond words or description) and I was convinced that I loved him. Now in the cold light of reality I can see that our "love" was nothing more than overwhelming physical attraction. I shudder to think what a disaster marriage would have been. My whole life could have been destroyed.

 

PAGES MISSING HERE

 

undivided attention and assurance of eternal love, I'm apt to react in one of two ways: I either retreat into one of my black, silent moods where I rebuff anyone who tries to talk to me & coldly turn my back to the world, or else I become dramatically angry, accusing him of faithlessness and insensitivity, demanding an instant apology. (The latter only when we're alone.) Phil loves me so much that he always apologizes, no matter who was at fault ... I'm not always very fair and considerate of his feelings. I'd be the first to admit that. First, I'm insanely jealous. If Phil seems to be giving an "inappropriate" amount of attention to any other girl, particularly a pretty one - PARTICULARLY Sherrie S.  - I hit the ceiling. I go nuts. I'm just so afraid of losing him to someone else that I lose all sense of balance & I smother him. It doesn't matter that I have members of the opposite sex dropping by my house every day, or that most of my good friends are guys rather than girls ... all I know is that Phil had better not look at another girl. This has got to change.

Also, I've had a great deal more experience with dating and relationships and sex than Phil has, and I tend to flaunt that in his face sometimes. Old boyfriends - past dates - past experiences - I'm always talking about them. That isn't really being very considerate of his feelings. If he were any other guy in the world, he'd break up with me in a hot minute. I don't think any other guy would be able to handle the real Terri Vert, with her hang-ups, her biting self-criticism, her fears and anxieties and unpredictable moods. Any other guy would turn and run at the first sight of the "real" Terri  ... her feet up on the coffeetable, wearing her football shirt and no makeup, complaining because she has cramps & she hates Sherrie S. & she can't stand the Rolling Stones. But he's not any other guy ... he's Phil. I can complain about anything in the world, or I can make an idiot out of myself laughing at a terribly un-funny TV show, or I can just sit and not say a word for an hour, and he'll keep right on loving me. I don't know why. I can't explain it. But I won't question it.

The other important aspect of our relationship is that it is Christ-centered. Everything is based on our mutual love and faith in Jesus. Nothing can ever change that. Even if we break up tomorrow night, we will still love each other in a deep, Christian way forever. Our faith has created a bond that can never be broken. Phil is a growing, dedicated Christian. He has his priorities straight and Jesus is in control of his life. Because of that, Phil is the spiritual leader in our relationship. That's the way it's supposed to be -- that's the kind of man I need. The kind of man I must marry, if my life is to be fruitful. And it's the kind of boyfriend I need today. Phil's life has been clean and straight. In contrast, mine looks dirty and weak and out of order. The drugs, the drinking, the heavy sexual involvements, the dishonesty and stealing and wild weekend parties and contempt of God are all things I can never erase entirely. My past will always be there to haunt me and remind me how "undeserving" I am of God's grace. And of a boyfriend like Phil.

Phil knows about my past ... he knows about the rotten, evil things that have been a part of my life. He doesn't know about the sex, though. I could never bring myself to tell him. But he knows that I've dated a lot of non-Christian guys, and I imagine he probably suspects. Yet he loves me! Still! In spite of all the terrible, terrible things that I have done. That is truly loving with Christ's love. And because our relationship is based on mutual faith, there's no heavy physical involvement between the two of us. I like to sit next to him in the car, and we hold hands and hold each other, and kiss, but I mean there's no hopping-into- the-backseat stuff. Phil really isn't all that experienced, and I know for a fact that I was the first & only girl he has ever kissed (last summer, when we were dating the first time). So even kissing is a really infrequent and special thing. I don't want him to feel like he's being pressured into anything. I want him to move at his own pace. We like to sit together and he holds me in his arms, me leaning my head against his chest while he gently strokes my face and hair or kisses my forehead. That is the way he expresses his love for me in a physical sense, and that's all that I could want. I'm so sick and tired of being used for selfish, sexual reasons. I arrived at the point where I no longer felt like a person, a human being with thoughts and feelings, in the eyes of the boys at school. I'm a reputation. An object. A conquest. I'm so deathly sick of that, I don't care whether I ever date another non-Christian again, no matter how "nice" he seems to be. In fact, I DON'T want to. I'd be perfectly happy to fall deeply in love with Phil and stay with him for the rest of my life.

My only problem is that my feelings fluctuate too easily. Phil isn't the best-looking guy in the world. He's tall and bony and angular, with steel-rimmed glasses and a plain, open face. His features are blunt and non-descript, and his tastes in clothing run directly opposite from mine.  I feel just awful writing this. I really do. I love him so much, yet here I am complaining about the way God packaged him. Yet I have to be truthful about my feelings. At other times - when he breaks into his cute smile, or looks at me with his big brown eyes, or combs his shining, thick blond hair, I think, "Hey, he isn't all that bad!" The trouble is, one attitude is just as awful as the other. Either way, I'm judging him on a superficial level and basing my attitude toward him on the way he looks, rather than on his personality or character or inward beauty. I'm praying that God will change my attitude in this area. I want to love Phil for what he is inside, not for how "cute" he is (or isn't). This is what broke us up last year. I wanted a boyfriend I could show off to my friends - someone handsome and smooth - and Phil just didn't fill the bill. I was constantly trying to change him and we fell apart. I left him for Rick A. I admit now what a mistake that was. I was miserable a good part of the year, desperately trying to find love by hopping from boyfriend to boyfriend. In the process I made a lot of terrible mistakes that never would have happened if I'd stayed with guy who really loved me. That's why I'm so afraid I might make a similar mistake this year when school starts. I'm afraid that I'll start hanging out with Rhonda again, which will lead me into the old booze and drugs crowd, which will trample my reliance on God and make me desire to seek relationships with non-Christian guys again. I don't want that to happen!!! But what can I do? If I don't hang around with Rhon again this year, I'll be alone. I don't think I could take the loneliness. I'm scared to death of loneliness. What am I going to do?

Well, it's midnight now and I've been writing for so long that my cramps have subsided a little. I think I've relaxed enough to sleep now. At least I've been able to express a lot of the things that have been building up inside of me. I need that release sometimes.

I hope no one ever reads this, the things that I've written and revealed in this journal, because if they do they'll think I'm some kind of horrible, callous, insensitive monster. (Actually I just think you're kind of stupid and self-involved.  But you're a teenager: it's allowed.) All these terrible things in my past & in my thoughts. But I've already made my mistakes, and there's no way to erase them, so why pretend they never happened? They did happen. And as for my thoughts, who can really control their thoughts? I can't help thinking the way I do. It's the way I am, the way God created me. I may be dishonest with other people, but I can never be dishonest with myself. That would be pointless. So since this Ledger is meant for my eyes alone, what's the use in making it read like Mother Goose? If it sounds sordid, or immature, or frighteningly dumb - so what? At least it's honest, and if we can't be honest with ourselves, we really have nothing to offer to others, do we?

 

DECISIONS

  • What to do about Steve ... send him a very friendly, noticeably impersonal letter ... newsy but not revealing any inner feelings. And then wait for his reaction.
  • What to do about Phil ... pray that the Lord will help you to keep on loving him with Christ-like love.
  • What to do about school clothes $$$ ... stop worrying and turn it over to God. Then make wise, deliberate, unhurried purchases.
  • What to do about this Ledger ... keep it until it's filled, and then HIDE it. Why throw away something that has helped you?

 

 




August 18, 1975
4:12 a.m.
Before Bed:

I stayed out with Phil later than ever before, but Dad was drunk when I strolled through the door at 4 a.m. and didn't seem to care. All he said was, "Don't complain if I'm making noise at 9:00!" That really surprised me. I thought for sure he'd be mad.

Phil and I were closer tonight than we've ever been before, and in a way it both thrills me and scares me. I'm thrilled to know that a human being, a guy, could love me as genuinely and as thoroughly as he does. But it also scares me, because I still have my doubts, and the LAST thing in the world I want to do is hurt Phil. He said something to me tonight that scared me. He said that all signs were pointing to Jesus' second coming within the next six or seven years. Why aren't I happy about it? I should be rejoicing, but instead all I can do is think "It's too soon!"  There's too much I want to do in life first, like getting married and having kids.

 

 




August 19, 1975

Oh boy, Ledger ... I've blown it. Blown it, thrown it away, loused it up ... my new strong complete commitment to Christ. Well, maybe I didn't blow the whole thing, but I have made another dumb mistake. I've fallen down at the first sight of temptation. Kevin came by this afternoon and I bought a nickel bag of speed from him. That in itself is bad enough - the fact that I bought it - but the worst part is that I bought it with absolutely NO hesitation. I just bought it without even stopping to think.

OK, so I bought it ... a little foil bag ... carefully counted them out as though they were Hope diamonds ... and took two of them. That was 15 minutes ago, and it's already starting. My head is becoming a little fuzzy.

If Phil finds out that I bought it, he would be so disappointed in me. It would really hurt him. How can I tell him? I CAN'T!! But I can't be anything but honest with him ... that's the basis of our relationship, honesty. What should I do? Tell him? Conceal it from him?

 

 




Friday night, 7:30 p.m.
August 22, 1975

I've taken 10 hits of that stupid speed tonight, downed with a shot of whiskey, and I still feel nothing   ...  not even a tingle. I think Kevin cheated me. This speed is awful. Maybe I should just take it all (I have 9 left out of 25).

 

 




Sunday evening
August 24, 1975

Mighty Clouds of Joy

Phil left this morning on the Junior High retreat (he's going as a counselor). I hated to see him go, but it'll only be four days so I guess I won't die or anything. I'm just sitting here in my little bedroom, listening to albums and thinking. I'm dead-tired from a hectic weekend, but Phil is so very much in my thoughts & my heart that I want to write a few pages before I go to bed.

Why is it that I always seem to love him so much more when he's away? It's strange, and it probably sounds terrible, but I can't help it. That's the way it always seems to be. He's gone - I can't see him, or talk to him, or be with him - yet my heart seems to be overwhelmingly filled with love for him. Is that normal? He's so sweet and understanding, and he loves me so much. I just can't believe it.

I never found the courage to tell him about buying that nickel bag of speed from Kevin, and although I hate to conceal anything from him, I've decided not to tell him at all. He wouldn't be mad, but would be disappointed. Maybe it's better that I don't say anything at all.

I miss him. 

 

 




Monday afternoon
August 25, 1975

In a "writing" mood. Uh-oh ... that means this entry will probably end up being forty pages long ...

I took the rest of the speed - 9 hits - and as I expected, nothing. I feel a little dizzy when I stand up and walk around, and I can feel the beginnings of a sharp headache, but other than that, nothing. Not even a little buzz. How disappointing. I guess the Lord has simply taken away the effectiveness of the drug. What a powerful God I have. 

Still missing Phil. I wrote him another gigantic letter last night, telling him how much he means to me & everything. I think I'll give it to him on Wednesday night when we go swimming after Bible Study. Tomorrow I have to go and register for my classes at school, and money worries are starting to get me down. I need so many things, and the money seems to be nowhere in sight. I've got to trust that the Lord will provide enough money to cover my needs.

Later, 12 midnight:

Something awful has happened, Ledger ... something terrible, unexpected, sudden. Phil, why can't you be here to help me deal with this? Lord, what am I going to do??

Steve is back. He called this evening at 8:30, and said that he had to return to Seattle for an operation. He wants to see me tomorrow. God, what do I do? I don't want to see him. I don't want to start caring for him again. I don't want to get tangled up in another sticky mess. What am I going to do? Why did he have to come back? WHY?

12:46 a.m.

The middle of the night, and I still can't sleep. So much on my mind. I have to get up early and go register tomorrow morning, and for some reason I'm nervous and upset about that. And of course I'm worried sick about Steve coming back & seeing him tomorrow. I can't believe it's true. Every time I turn off the light and close my eyes and try to sleep, I keep seeing his face and hearing his voice. I DON'T love him anymore ... I love PHIL. I only wish Phil were here to help me deal with this.

Oh Lord, make Your way clear to me. Show me what to do!

 

 




Tuesday night
August 26, 1975

Well, Ledger, I went out with him tonight - against my better judgment - and dammit, I've run myself smack into a whirlpool. God, what do I do? Whenever I'm with him, the intensity and the power of our emotions scares the shit out of me. I love Phil!!! I do!!! But I'm sexually and physically attracted to Steve. Jesus, what a bind. What an awful mess. What am I going to DO??

Someone's got to be hurt, now, or else I'll wait and stall and two-time them both until they find out, and then I'll end up losing them both ...

We went with Randy and Cheryl to the mountains with a case & a half of beer, had a private little "party" by the river, surrounded by the trees and mountains and beauty. Steve held me in his arms when we stood by the river and watched the water thundering past, and I knew that I still love him. I do. I will always love him, in spite of everything.

 

 




Wednesday morning
August 27, 1975

Early, Dad is still in bed; the whole world is sleeping. I can't sleep. Too many things whirling around in my head. I dreamed about Steve all night long. Yet - this morning, now, sitting in bed, listening to the radio playing softly - when I think that Phil is coming home TODAY, I get every bit as excited and feel every bit as in love. What a mess.

Similar experiences: 1.) In junior high, when I loved both John and Clarence. I ended up picking Clarence, and although we stayed together for nearly a year and I loved him deeply, it turned into a purely physical relationship that nearly killed me. 2.) Last year, when I was going with Phil for the first time and I started liking Rick too. In the end I gave up Phil for Rick, and I was miserable. I regretted it for months.  But what do I do THIS time? I'll be seeing Phil tonight at our regular Wednesday night Bible Study, and afterwards we're all going swimming. I'll be spending a lot of time with him. Maybe then I can figure out what to do.

In the meantime, I'm wearing Steve's ring. He tossed it at me yesterday afternoon, when we were sitting in Randy's apartment drinking beer, and said "If it fits,it's yours." Naturally it doesn't fit - it's a guy's ring, sterling silver with a huge black onyx and two tiny diamonds - and it's gigantic. I put a wad of masking tape on the back and slipped it onto my middle finger, right hand.

My classes are going to be:

1. Childhood Literature
2. Modern American History
3. Choir
4. Journalism
5. Stage Band
6. Study Hall

 

School starting ... yuck!

 

Things I'd Like To Buy or Get As Gifts (Christmas?) 


1. Carpeting and curtains in my bedroom!
2. A big bulletin board
3. "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" Simon & Garfunkle
4. "Red Octopus" Jefferson Starship
5. A nightgown (something feminine & sexy)
6. A bottle of Chanel No. 5
7. A package of felt-tip markers
8. A new one-year diary
9. More plants for my bedroom (a HANGING plant!)
10. A night-stand (for right next to my bed)
11. An extension cord on my phone
12. A nice stereo system (turntable)
13. A subscription to "Seventeen"
14. An autographed pic of Roddy McDowall
15. A good housecoat and a pair of slippers
16. A new bedspread (green flower print)
17. A new bathing suit (one that FITS)
18. An atomizer (to water my plants)
19. A fern stand
21. "Who Loves You?" The Four Seasons
22. A stuffed panda bear

 

 



Friday midnight
August 29, 1975

Steve is a creep. He treats me like absolute dirt; he's always pushing me around, insulting me and criticizing me, making fun of me, hurting my feelings, ignoring me to see how I'll react. He's an immature, uncivilized bully.

Phil is a sweetheart. He treats me like a lady; he's always sensitive and understanding and compassionate, he listens to me when I have a problem or a worry, he never tries to hurt my feelings or force his opinions on me, and he loves me sincerely. He's a wonderful, sensitive, warm human being.

So WHY IN THE WORLD do I hang on to Steve??? What is wrong with me ... do I WANT to suffer? I just don't understand myself at all.

Phil and I decided not to go on the Family Camp retreat this weekend ... too rainy, too expensive, and not really worth it. Opted to stay home and relax. Fighting a terribly strong impulse to call Steve.

 

 




Sunday afternoon
August 31, 1975

The very last day of August. Summer is really, truly coming to a close. So many worries, so many things I've got to start thinking about. College, getting a job, getting a driver's license and a car, moving into my own apartment eventually, marriage ... heavy. I can't face decisions. Right now I'm faced with smaller-scale worries, like new shoes, do-I-really-love-Phil, what-to-do-about-Steve, keeping my bedroom clean, trying to grow my fingernails long, should-I-cut-my-hair. Heavy enough for the time being.

Haven't seen Steve since Tuesday, and I am still fighting the insane urge to pick up the phone and call him ... insane because Steve is such a rotten person. He never does anything but depress me and bring me down.

I've decided not to cut my hair: that's one decision out of the way. It's getting really long and thick, and I think I'll let it grow for the rest of the time I'm in high school and see how long I can get it. Now if I could only decide between Phil and Steve as painlessly. Why can't life be easier? Why do decisions always have to be so painful? I love being seventeen years old, but it just isn't the easiest age in the world.

CONFUSION REIGNS!!!

 

 




Monday evening
September 1, 1975

Feeling a little sad ... no apparent reason. Maybe it's because summer is over and I have to go back to school. Maybe it's because the future is so uncertain and hazy. Maybe it's because of Steve. Whatever it is, I wish it would go away ...

Cold, chilly, gray ... wind is blowing. My bedroom is cozy and warm and friendly. Music is playing. I'm full of spaghetti and meatballs and sad thoughts. Beautiful faces never seem to contain beautiful people. What would Dad say if he knew

Beethoven: Trio No. 3 in C Minor for Piano, Violin and Cello / Opus 1, No. 3 / III MenuettoL Quasi Allegro

Phil and I double-dated with John Riley and Debbie Sherman again tonight .. the four of us went bowling. I didn't do so well - I bowled a 94 and a 112 (my average is 96, I think), but it was fun. I love bowling!

 

 




Tuesday night
September 2, 1975

My Love Is Alive

Tomorrow is the first day of school. My SENIOR YEAR ... I can't believe it. Seems like only yesterday I was six years old, marching off to my very first day in first grade. I wore a bright red dress with little black velvet bows on it and a white princess collar, and school seemed like the most wonderful place in the whole world. How many things have changed in twelve years.

I wonder what my senior year holds in store for me ... will I stay close to the Lord? Will I slip back into my old ways, hanging around with my old non-Christian friends? Will Phil and I stay together? Will I go out with other guys? In a way I'm scared to death, but mixed with that fear is a certain sense of excitement. I can only hope that I have the desire to serve God in everything I do.

Later:

I can't sleep. Partly because of nerves, partly because of this darned cold. It's simply no use trying. Every time I turn off the light and close my eyes and try to fall asleep, I start thinking about school tomorrow morning, or my nose starts to run, and I find myself wide-awake again. This is terrible. Now listen, Terri  ... you're going to sleep! Do you hear me??

 

 




5:57 a.m.
September 3, 1975

Peace Train

Didn't get much sleep last night ... I kept having dreams and trouble breathing. I dreamed that I was driving through a little town in a convertible with some blond guy, and all of a sudden I looked at the horizon and saw a horrible, black tornado heading straight for town. It scared me out of my mind, but we headed for the nearest bomb shelter, in the center of the little town. It was jam-packed with people, all sitting on stone benches, and as I sat at my boyfriend's feet with my head in his lap, he told me we'd have to stay in the shelter for at least a month after the tornado "because of the radio activity factor." That scared me almost as much as the tornado itself, because I was starting to feel very claustrophobic ... no windows, no privacy from all those people, trapped in that bomb shelter ...

After school:

Well, my first day of being a high school senior was terrific! Great classes, great teachers ... looks like it'll be a breeze!  

Pat McKinnon sure is cute this year.  And thus it begins again  ...

 

 



Thursday night
September 4, 1975

I'm pretty sick with the flu so I stayed home in bed today. Dad wants me to stay home tomorrow, too, but I'm not wild about the idea of missing two days of school the very first week. It depends on how I feel in the morning, I guess.

Phil came over this afternoon to visit and cheer me up - we sat in my room and talked for a couple of hours. Steve called while Phil was still here. He was over at Dan's house and obviously stoned out of his mind. He said they'd been smoking pot, and I could tell it was true because his words were slurring together and he sounded strange. In spite of his fuzzy condition, he insisted that we "have a talk." He wanted to talk about our relationship, and although he was vehement about it, I only took him half-seriously. I don't think he even knew what he was saying. He kept saying that he really "likes" me a lot - at one point he even said he was "in love" with me, and when I laughed he said, "Hey! I'm talkin' seriously!" - but said that he can't figure out why he treats me the way he does. He kept saying that it wasn't "fair" to me (the fact that he never tries to see me unless he feels like it), and that he's always going out partying with his friends. 

So finally I said "Well then, why don't you just forget about the whole thing? About me and the whole thing?" 

He almost EXPLODED. He said, "I don't WANT to forget the whole thing!! I like you too much, but it just isn't fair to you!!" 

I was trying to be very patient with him, but he was so bombed that I don't think I managed to get through to him at all. I don't think he even heard me. I said that all I want is for him to be happy and to do whatever he wants to do, and to not worry about me. I said that I had plenty of things to do to keep me busy, and that I wasn't just sitting home alone, shriveling into an old maid just because he wasn't calling me. Then he asked me to marry him. I took that as a joke, but apparently he didn't intend it that way. He wanted me to "go on a vacation" with him, anyplace I want to go. He said that what he "ought to do" is marry me, but then he added "Except I'm not ready for that." I said that I was too young. "Well then, I'll marry you in two years, and that's a promise," he said.

I just don't know, Ledger. I haven't seen him for ten days, and I guess I just haven't been taking this whole thing seriously. Out of sight, out of mind. I almost wish he was back in Texas. At least then I didn't have to talk to him every day. I could just sit and dream about him, and the dreams were always so much better than the reality.

I can't stand this business of two-timing. I HATE IT. I feel cheap and deceitful and it's a horrible feeling. I love Phil; he represents everything that's good and clean about my life ... on the other hand, I still feel a lingering tie to Steve, who represents all the dark things in my life. Wow. Put that way, it seems so obvious who is the right choice. Everybody in the world would probably tell me, "Dump Steve! Don't be a fool! Stay with Phil!"  Dump Steve!  Don't be a fool!  Stay with Phil!  (Oh, and take the job at Microsoft, four years from now.)   Unfortunately it isn't that easy. Maybe it's because Steve and I share a sexual bond. I really believe that when you make love with somebody, a spiritual bond is created between the two of you that can never be broken. Maybe that's why I'm finding it so difficult to just let him go. What do you think?

At any rate, I'm going to have to do something, sooner or later, and the longer I wait the more painful it's going to be for everyone concerned.

 

 



Friday night
September 5, 1975

Oh Ledger, what have I done?? We've had a fight, Phil and I, and I'm scared to death that I've blown it. Lord, why do I always have to be so proud ....???

 

 




Saturday night (or Sunday morning ...)
4:45 a.m. September 6th (or 7th) 1975

So crocked I can hardly write. Five beers tonight, Ledger. Phil is mad at me and I don't think he loves me anymore. I am absolutely heartsick about the whole thing, and in an effort to ease the pain I went out with Steve tonight, got myself drunk and did EVERYTHING else. Ledger, I wish I could die. Phil .. I love you so. What if I'm pregnant? Oh dear dear sweet Jesus, please please don't let me be pregnant.

 

 




Next morning, 11:37 a.m.

Oh God, I feel rotten. I have a gigantic hangover; my head is reeling like a spinning top; and there's a sadness and a loneliness in my heart like you wouldn't believe. I feel stupid and cheap and useless. I'm so scared that I've lost Phil forever, and I can't stop crying because the thought tears me into little pieces. I've never felt this way before. If he ever finds out what I did last night, we've had it for good. If Phil doesn't love me anymore and wants to break up ... and if I'm pregnant by Steve ... I'm going to run away, Ledger. I don't know where, but I won't be able to take it here at home. My heart is nearly broken in two as it is. How will I be able to endure life without Phil there to help me?

It's noon now. He's probably still at church. I'll call him in an hour. I'm so scared.

1:00 p.m.

I called his house but his mom said that he isn't home from church yet. She said she'd "have him call me as soon as he gets home." Sure. Phone, RING. RING. RING. RING!!! Telephones are a terrible thing ... especially when they sit there, mockingly, infuriatingly silent.

1:28 p.m.

Still no call. He MUST be home by now. Why doesn't he call me??

10:30 p.m.

Tired, ready for bed. A quick word before I hit the sack. Phil isn't mad, and he still loves me. I can't even begin to express how relieved I feel. We went to choir rehearsal at church this evening; afterwards, several of us drove over to Karen's to play pool and listen to albums, and then stopped at Herfy's for a quick bite to eat. The whole time Phil was just as sweet and gentle and loving as always, and I tried my best to show him the same kind of love. He means so very much to me.

However ... I have no idea what to do about Steve. Last night we both got drunk, and he was being so sweet and kind to me that I couldn't resist. It was like a side of him I'd never seen before. When he whispered, "I love you, Terri," I couldn't stop myself.  What am I going to about this whole crazy mess? And what if I'm pregnant? I'm right in the middle of my menstrual cycle - last night was the 15th day - and I just have this horrible feeling, almost like a sixth sense. Oh Lord, why am I so weak? Well, we'll know on September 19, won't we?

Goodnight, Ledger.

 

 

 



Monday 6:15 a.m.
September 8, 1975

I've been awake for 15 minutes ... I'm soooooo tired from a long, emotionally and physically exhausting weekend, and the prospect of trudging off to school is a grim and dreary one. I wish I could just lay there in bed all day, relaxing and reading and listening to the radio. A life of ease. Wouldn't it be wonderful?

Strange that neither one of my boyfriends (Steve OR Phil) go to my high school. If they did, it might completely reverse my attitude.

Before Bed, 9:49 p.m.

Too tired to write. Long day, but I was in a happy mood, which always helps. I saw Pat around school a lot, and for some reason I couldn't help NOTICING him.

 

 




Tuesday morning
September 9, 1975

Strange ... I dreamed about Pat all night. I dreamed that he walked me home from school, and that he called me.

Afternoon:

I saw Pat around school a lot today, and at times it seemed as though he was watching me ... particularly in our 6th period Study Hall ... but at other times it seemed as though he considered me no less than invisible. He hasn't an inkling of my secret crush on him. Rhonda and I went to watch football practice after school, and I couldn't take my eyes off him for an instant.

Ledger, this is strange. I've been "noticing" him every day since school started, IN SPITE of the fact that I'm going steady with one guy already and "engaged" to another. What a mess!

 

 

One week before my period, and I've really got a case of the blues. I feel so empty and unloved and useless. Nothing is going smoothly. Steve hasn't called since Tuesday afternoon, and I'm afraid something's wrong.

 

 


Saturday night 6:00 p.m.
September 13, 1975

It looks like I'm going to be spending the evening home, alone, cleaning my bedroom and watching TV and eating. Oh well. Steve hasn't called in four days, and I think he's probably mad at me. (Who knows?) Phil and I aren't really getting along so hot, either, so I'd rather not see him. Lately I've been feeling so blue and so down on myself. A lonely evening home may or may not make me feel worse. I guess that part of me wishes Steve would take me out tonight, while another part of me craves some time ALONE, to think and sort things out in my head. Whatever.

Right now I'm STARVING. Time to put my steak in the oven. See ya.

Later:

Dinner is cooking (steak & baked potato). I'm sitting here in my little bedroom, listening to Jethro Tull on KISW and trying to discern what kind of mood I'm going to be in this evening. Happy? Sad? Depressed? Peaceful? I can't tell. I wish Steve would call and ask me out ... to a party, to Randy's apartment, anything. I want to go out, I want to drink, I want to feel Steve's big strong arms around me, have a good time ...

 

 




Sunday morning
September 14, 1973

I was right: absolutely no one called. Steve, particularly. So I spent the evening home. Actually, it wasn't all that bad. Kind of relaxing. I'm going to spend the day today cleaning my room (nice and cloudy gray outside) and then tonight I'm going to choir rehearsal with Phil. To hell with Steve.

 

 




Thursday
September 18, 1975

Sorry I haven't written in a few days, Ledger. Busy. It's nearly midnight, and after a long exciting day and an evening spent with good friends and good beer at the school football game, I'm ready to collapse. A word first.  Ledger, I am absolutely ELATED. On Cloud Nine. Happy. Excited. I think maybe, just MAYBE, Pat McKinnon likes me. Oh, what would I do? It would be terrific, but it gets complicated when I think about hurting Phil and forgetting about Steve. But I'M STILL HAPPY!!!

Details tomorrow, OK? I'm tired. G'nite, Ledj.

 

 


September 19, 1975
Next morning:

A little more down to earth. What an idiot I am. Just because he smiled at me, for Pete's sake, doesn't mean he's madly in love with me. I should slow down and quit losing my head over boys all the time.

 

 



Monday 9 p.m.
September 22, 1975

Ledger, I've just GOT to write to you!!! So many important things have been going on in my life lately, but I've been so keyed-up and so excited about it all, I haven't been able to settle down long enough to write. Sorry! I just washed my hair, and now I'm sitting in Dad's old easy chair, watching "All In The Family." I should go to bed and get some extra sleep ... but I swear it wouldn't do a bit of good. I would just lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling and wishing for morning. All I can think about is Pat, Pat, Pat. My brain is going to explode ... and so's my heart, my soul, my mind. I can't stand this suspense. 

I saw Pat all over the place today. Right before Choir (3rd period) I was standing at my locker, waiting for Rhon and Lori. I turned around just in time to see Pat and his buddy, Glenn, walking past me. I met his gaze and gave him a small, shy smile ... and I couldn't believe the NEAT smile he gave me in return!! It was so sweet!! Plus, I also got a chance to talk to him, briefly at least. After school I was standing in front of the main office, and suddenly he was standing nearby, asking one of his friends "Where did Chris go?" I said softly, "He went out into the parking lot a minute ago." He almost imperceptibly moved closer. "Out there?" he asked, and I nodded. That was all. Several brief encounters during the day, but they made me feel wonderful. The way he looks at me, it's really something hard to explain. A special kind of look. God, I hope I'm not just imagining it. I want him so much. My female intuition is telling me that he likes me ... but I'm afraid to hope. What if I end up flat on my face? What should I do? How can I let him know? What can I do? I'm absolutely dying to let him know. But HOW? I can't just walk up to him and say, "Hello Pat, nice game you played last night. I have a crush on you." No way. I can't write him a note - that's too junior high school. ("Dear Pat, I like you, Do you like me? Signed, Terri.")  No. So what DO I do? I have one plan ... one slim, minuscule, threadbare hope. What if I talk to one of his friends, like Tim Baker - who is also a friend of mine - ?  Maybe. I'm going to give it a try, at least.

 

 

7:17 a.m., Ledger, and I'm bombed. Before-school-drinks are wonderful.

 

 


Tuesday afternoon 5:17 p.m.
September 23, 1975

Family of Man

Guess what I did??? I talked to Tim about Pat!! It took every ounce of nerve and raw courage in my body, and I was shaking like a leaf the whole time, but I DID IT!! And am I ever proud of myself!

Our conversation:

Me: "If I ask you something, do you promise you won't laugh at me?"
Tim: "Yes, sure."
Me: "Well ... I really feel like an idiot asking, but do you know if Pat likes anybody?"
Tim: "No."
Me: "No you don't know, or no he doesn't like anybody?"
Tim: "No he doesn't like anybody."
Me: "Oh, well, I was just wondering 'cause I sorta like him."

Oh please, Tim, SAY something to Pat about it!!!

Note: Somehow I've managed to put on ten extra pounds.

 

 




Wednesday afternoon
September 24, 1975

Depressed. I've just worked myself up too fast - setting myself up for a big letdown.

This is what's on my mind today: Pat. I like him so much, but I couldn't talk to Tim again today. I saw Pat all over the place, and as usual he gave me that special smile and look, but big deal. I'm dying inside. What does he think of me?

Something on a different note: my period is five days late. I've been having cramps, backaches, headaches - all my usual premenstrual symptoms - since my due date on Friday. But no discharge. I'm scared. What if .... ?

Songs To Fit My Mood (in love with someone new) 

"Suddenly" - Bee Gees
"God Only Knows" - The Beach Boys
"Wondering Aloud" - Jethro Tull
"I Dreamed Last Night" - Justin Hayward & John Lodge
"Maybe" "Simple Game" - The Moody Blues
"For My Lady" - The M.B.
"The Story In Your Eyes" - The M.B.
"How Can I Tell You" - Cat Stevens
"Baby I'm A'Want You" - Bread
"Ready" - Cat Stevens
"Teenage Love Affair" - Rick Derringer
"Something" - The Beatles
"Oh! Darling" - The Beatles
"Monday Love" - The Grassroots
"Dizzy" - Tommy Roe
"Let It Rain" - Eric Clapton
"Hot Love" - T-Rex

I like Pat so much. That "look" he gives me when we say hi to each other in the hallway is impossible to describe. It's as though his whole face lights up, especially his eyes.

What do I do now?

Step B - Talk to Tim Baker again
Step C - Continue to say "hi" and smile a lot
Step D - Try to talk to him during 6th period
Step E - Talk to him tomorrow night at Herfy's

Before Bed:

Well. Life is certainly full of surprises. Tonight after Bible Study, Phil dropped a bombshell on my by announcing he wanted to break up. My first reaction: hurt. He didn't make it clear exactly why he doesn't want to go with me anymore, and naturally my first impulse was "He's breaking up with me because I'm not good enough for him."  Or how about this: "He's breaking up with me I've been two-timing him for weeks now, am probably pregnant by the other guy, and am currently pursuing a THIRD guy as though none of this other stuff is happening: in other words, I'm a complete and utter nutcase" ?  I shed some tears. But now that I think about it, I have an amazing sense of freedom. I'm free to like anyone I want - like PAT! - and I feel great.

Well ... almost great.

 

 




Thursday night, 11:25 p.m.
September 25, 1975

So excited I can barely write. Life is so strange and unpredictable and wonderful. This was one of the worst days of my life, and yet it was one of the neatest EVENINGS of my life. I'll write about it tomorrow, but I'll say this much for now: I found out tonight that Pat likes me!!!

 

 




Friday night
September 26, 1975

Rocky Mountain Way

Pat "went out with the boys" tonight ... I think he said they were all going to have a ping-pong tournament at Chris Peterson's house. Something along those lines. I decided to stay home tonight - I'm super-tired, and a nice quiet evening in my room, listening to the radio and drinking Pepsi and thinking about Pat, sounds fine to me. Besides, I have a lot of writing to catch up on!

Daisy Jane

About yesterday. I was in a rotten, depressed mood and nothing seemed to go right. The choir director yelled at me twice for minor mistakes, I didn't finish my History assignment, people seemed to be avoiding me, and worst of all it seemed as though Pat was deliberately hiding from me. It really hurt my feelings, because I have such a gigantic crush on him & he seemed totally oblivious. I saw him a few times, and he smiled that magnetic, brown-eyed smile of his; but other times when he saw me coming down the hall he simply turned around and walked away with one of his buddies.

Finally I caught Tim alone. "Did you say anything to Pat?" I asked quietly, and he said, "Sure. He didn't say anything, so don't worry."

"He didn't say anything?" I said. I could feel the first cold stab of disappointment.

"Oh, he said you were all right," Tim said nonchalantly.

All right. He said I was "all right." What a blow. A doormat is "all right."  An apple pie is "all right."  A new pair of gym socks is "all right."   I was really crushed. 

"Thanks, Tim," I mumbled as I walked away. I felt absolutely awful. It was time for the Pep Assembly, but I didn't feel much like clapping and cheering. I just wanted to sit and cry and bleed and think about those awful words.  She's all right. After the assembly I walked home and spent an awful afternoon in my room. I couldn't talk, I couldn't eat ... all I wanted to do, all I could do, was sit and cry. Suddenly all my problems and worries came crashing in on me. Steve hasn't called in a month ... Phil doesn't love me anymore ... I might be pregnant ... Pat apparently couldn't care less about me. I wanted to die. In fact, I felt so awful that I almost didn't go to the football game that night. And am I ever glad I did!! I had my eye on Pat the whole time - he's #43, team captain - and we won the game against the Cleveland Indians. Exciting game. Afterwards everyone headed for Herfy's. I was sitting in a booth with Lori, and about half an hour later the football players began to arrive ... tired, hot but victorious. Tim was one of the first to arrive, and I started to become depressed all over again, remembering what he'd told me that afternoon. He saw me and Lori and headed for our table. He smiled. 

"Lori," he said, "would you get out of here for a second? I've got to talk to Terri in private."

Lori obligingly got up and went over to talk to other friends, and Tim slid into the seat across from me. I was afraid he was going to tell me that Pat didn't like me at all, and I was nervous. So I babbled on and on, trying to avoid the subject. I talked about the game, school, Lori, anything. Finally he interrupted me. 

"Pat likes you," he said, smiling. 

I ALMOST DIED. I can't remember the rest of the conversation: I was too excited and nervous. But I do remember Tim quoting Pat as saying, "Tell her I like her."

I saw Pat once in a while today, and I talked to him after school for about ten minutes, but I just don't know, Ledger. I like him so much, I can barely stand it. He is on my mind every single second. I was watching him play ping pong in the Senior Lounge today. I was sitting on the couch, reading my History book, and once the ball flew across the room and landed in my lap. I handed it to Pat, and this may sound really juvenile but our fingertips touched and our eyes met at the same instant, and it was like an electric shock shooting through my body. I just sat there and couldn't take my eyes off him ... that thick black hair, those broad shoulders. I really have managed to get myself hung up, but like I said, I don't know. He doesn't act like he likes me ... but maybe that's just the way he is. Maybe he isn't all that demonstrative. Oh, I hope it works out. I really pray it does. I want my senior year to be something neat and special and exciting, and having Pat as a boyfriend would help make it that way. I just hope I don't blow it. Lately I've really been feeling down on myself - the way I look, my personality, etc. - and I'm afraid that anything I do or say to him might turn him off. I don't have any confidence. There are just too many other cute girls at school. Can I compete? 

Miracles 

He doesn't have my phone number. He doesn't even know where I live. In other words, I won't see him this weekend, but maybe it's just as well. Gives me a chance to think. I figure that by next Friday - one week from today - I'll have a pretty good idea of whether it's going to work out or not. If it does, great. Fantastic. If it doesn't, I'm simply going to have to keep on living. I can't pin all my hopes on this, or else I'll end up flat on my stupid face again.

Sky High

I'd probably feel so much better if my period would come and I could lose some weight. I don't think I'm pregnant, even though I'm a week overdue. My cramps are too regular and too severe. Besides, I'm scared to even think about that possibility. But I HAVE gained ten ugly, excess pounds, and it has to GO. Not only for the sake of my figure but also my morale. I'll work out a sensible diet plan this weekend.

I wonder where Pat is right now ...?

MY FAVORITE SONG is on the radio right now ... "Who loves you, pretty baby? Who's gonna help you through the night? Who loves you, pretty Mama? Who's always there to make it right?" ("Who Loves You," The Four Seasons)

Talking to Steve on the phone right now (7:28 p.m.) Is he going to see me tonight? In a way I hope so ... for "something to do" ... but still all I can think about is Pat. I'm not sure I would be able to concentrate on anything else. ("... Them big old charter boats and a fuckin' 18 footer ... I just thought I'd call you, in care I passed out ... Both of them fuckers got sick ... We were so tired, just the waves got to ya too ... Donny goes over the side (retching noise) ...")

My period is now ten days late. God, Father, please ... don't let me be pregnant. It would be an end of everything.

 

 



Sunday
September 28, 1975

I don't know what I'm going to do if I'm pregnant. My senior year means so much to me, and now it's looking as though I've really managed to screw it up. I'm just sick about it. I guess I just never really thought I could ever get pregnant. What a fool I was. Now things are utterly, hopelessly confused and I have nowhere to turn.

 

 




Monday afternoon
September 29, 1975
Hope You're Proud Of Me Girl

I don't think Pat likes me at all. It must have been a big joke, a trick that he & Tim decided to play on me. I don't think it was very funny. I saw Pat a few times around school, but he almost seemed to be ignoring me. I looked awful: I got up late this morning, and my hair and makeup and clothes looked terrible. That didn't do much for my self-confidence, so I was pretty much in an emotional slump all day. I've decided to take it like a mature human being, though. I was very depressed when I got home, but I gave myself a stern lecture and decided A.) Not to give up yet,  and B.) Not to let it get me down. I don't feel better, but I don't feel worse, either.

 

 




Saturday morning 8:59 a.m.
October 4, 1975
Get Down Tonight

I still can't believe that last night really happened. It was so wonderful, it was like a happy dream. 

Another football game, this time against Lindbergh. It was unbelievably cold and windy, with rain pouring down the whole time. Rhonda went up and sat by Brad Weddle, so Lori and me huddled together and watched the game with Rhonda's blanket wrapped around us. Freezing cold. It was a tough game and no one scored until the fourth quarter, when Lindbergh beat us 3-0. I watched Pat the whole time, every movement - #43 - and he played a good game in spite of the outcome.

Afterwards we all headed for Herfy's. I looked awful ... I was soaking wet. We (Lori, Rhon and I) ordered Cokes and slid into an empty booth to talk. The football players started showing up 45 minutes later. Pat, as usual, was with all his friends, although Brenda said he looked over at me before he sat down at a front table. I walked past him a couple of times and smiled. Well, I was sitting with my girlfriends, wondering how in the heck I could get him to talk to me, when I noticed Tim standing against the counter, eating an ice cream cone. We all motioned wildly for him to come over and talk to us, and when he finally saw us he smiled and headed our way. Tim is a friendly, talkative person - I just love him - and he talked about the football game, parties, life in general.

Finally I got the nerve. I smiled brightly and said, "How's Pat?" 

"I don't know!" he said. "I should ask YOU! How's Pat?" 

"I wouldn't know," I said wistfully. "I never talk to him."

 



JOURNAL ABRUPTLY ENDS RIGHT HERE!  (Looks like a bunch of pages were torn out)

 

VITAL STATS:

Terri Lynne Vert
Age 17-1/2
Birthdate: December 15, 1957
Birthplace: Seattle, Washington
School: Glacier High School
Grade: 12
Best subjects: Shorthand, English
Worst subjects: Math, Science
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 120 lbs.
Complexion: Fair

FAVORITES: 

Color: Olive green
Food: Tacoes, Mexi-fries, salads
Current Song: "Someone Saved My Life Tonight," Elton John
Album: "Physical Graffiti," Led Zeppelin
Group: Led Zeppelin
Actors: Roddy McDowall, Michael York
Actress: Jennifer O'Neill
Movie: "Dr. Zhivago"
TV Show: "Happy Days," "M*A*S*H"
Things to do: Take long hot baths, roller skate, boat rides

FAVORITE SONGS DURING THIS JOURNAL

"Hi Jack" - Herbie Mann
"Someone Saved My Life Tonight" - Elton John
"One Of These Nights" - The Eagles
"I'm On Fire" - Dwight Twilley Band
"Rendezvous" - Hudson Brothers
"Dynomite" - Bazuka
"That's When The Music Takes Me" - Neil Sedaka
"Miracles" - Jefferson Starship
"Ballroom Blitz" - The Sweet
"Get Down Tonight" - K.C. & The Sunshine Company
"Help Me, Rhonda" - Johnny Rivers
"You're Something New" - Carole King
"Bad Blood" -  Neil Sedaka
"Who Loves You" - The Four Seasons
"SOS" - Abba






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