I Had to Go Away to Find My Voice

It’s been a while.

A few years, actually.

But I never stopped writing.

If anything, I’ve probably written more during these past few years than at any other point in my life. I’ve written about fatherhood and marriage. Leadership and friendship. Mental health and physical health. Trauma and healing. Gratitude. Anger. Forgiveness. Sunrises.

And life.

Lots and lots about life.

I just wasn’t writing here.

I had to go away for a little while to find my voice.

When I created The Sunrise Warrior, there was a reason I didn’t call it Albert Perry.

I wasn’t ready.

As Albert Perry, I could write about struggle. I could talk about mental health. I could share lessons I was learning and photographs from my sunrise walks. I could even write about healing.

What I couldn’t do yet was tell you exactly what I was healing from.

I had spent most of my life carrying a secret. I survived seven years of childhood sexual abuse.

For decades, very few people knew.

So The Sunrise Warrior became a place where I could begin exploring parts of myself I wasn’t yet prepared to completely own publicly.

The name gave me some distance. And at the time, I needed it.

I don’t anymore.

My name is Albert Perry.

I’m a husband.

I’m a father.

I’m a businessman and a leader.

I’m a friend.

I’m a work in progress.

And I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse.

About a year ago, I finally attached my name and my face to that last sentence publicly.

It was one of the most important things I’ve ever done.

I didn’t need everyone to know my story.

But I could no longer hide from it.

There is a difference.

For most of my life, I became pretty damn good at running. Many survivors do.

I built a career. Raised a family. Set goals. Accomplished things and stayed busy.

From the outside, my life looked pretty good. And in many ways, it was.

But eventually I had to understand that you can build a successful life while still carrying an injured part of yourself everywhere you go.

Eventually, running stopped working.

Fatherhood had a lot to do with that.

My children changed the direction of my life.

There are three special people who will appear frequently in the stories I tell here. Four if I include my wife.

But today I will mention one. Her name is Lucia.

She’s my oldest daughter.

She’s 20 now.

Watching her become the young woman she is today is one of the great privileges of my life.

But long before she knew anything about my childhood, she was helping me confront it.

Becoming her father forced me to start asking questions I had successfully avoided for years.

That’s when I learned the true beauty of childhood innocence.

And that’s when I realized what was taken from me.

In many ways I didn’t identify as a victim until then.

Sadly, in many ways I thought I was part of the problem.

But then the questions emerged.

Who am I?

What kind of man do I want to be?

What kind of father do I want to be?

And perhaps most importantly:

Where is the road I’m currently traveling actually taking me?

I didn’t like all the answers.

So I started doing the work.

Therapy.

Writing.

Walking.

Learning.

Talking.

Listening.

Taking better care of my body.

Being more honest with myself.

Being more honest with the people I love.

One percent better every day.

Lucia didn’t do that work for me.

Nobody could.

That’s something I’ve come to believe deeply about healing. People can love us, guide us, walk beside us and sometimes carry a little weight when ours becomes too heavy.

But ultimately, we have to decide to build the bridge.

Lucia helped me see what was waiting on the other side.

You can’t build the bridge to where you’re going until you’re willing to be honest about where you’re starting.

That’s one reason bridges have become such an important symbol in my life.

And sunrises too.

So why come back now?

Because something has changed.

For a long time, I thought The Sunrise Warrior was somebody I was trying to become.

Someone stronger.

Someone healed.

Someone who had figured everything out.

I understand it differently today.

The Sunrise Warrior was me all along.

I haven’t conquered everything.

Every wound hasn’t miraculously disappeared.

But I finally understand that what happened to me and what happens next are two different things.

I didn’t get a vote in what happened to that little boy.

But I get a hell of a lot of votes in what happens to this man.

And that’s what I want this place to be about.

This isn’t going to be a blog about what somebody did to me.

There will certainly be stories about childhood sexual abuse.

There will be stories about trauma and mental health.

Some will probably be difficult.

But I want to spend much more time talking about what happens next.

Finding our voices.

Learning to trust ourselves again.

Taking care of our bodies.

Building relationships.

Setting boundaries.

Finding community.

Being better parents.

Laughing.

Forgiving ourselves.

Getting pissed off sometimes.

Finding purpose.

Experiencing joy.

And occasionally just putting on a pair of sneakers before the rest of the world wakes up and going outside to watch the sun come up.

Because healing isn’t spending every day thinking about what happened to you.

Sometimes healing is realizing you just lived an entire beautiful day without thinking about it at all.

I’m coming home.

Back to this little corner of the internet where I learned how to write about healing before I was ready to tell you exactly what I was healing from.

I’ve accumulated years of writings, photographs, lessons, mistakes and stories.

It’s time to bring them home.

Some of these stories will be mine.

Some will come from things I’ve learned walking alongside other survivors.

And hopefully some will eventually remind you of your own.

Especially if you’re carrying something you’ve convinced yourself you have to carry alone.

You don’t.

I know that now.

I wish I’d known it sooner.

But I’m grateful as hell that I know it today.

So let me introduce myself again.

My name is Albert Perry.

I’m a husband.

A father.

A survivor.

And after spending a lot of years learning how to find my voice…

I am The Sunrise Warrior.

And I’m ready to write again.

Yesterday happened. But here comes tomorrow.