Will You Choose Me?

Photographer: Heather Jackson

Photographer: Heather Jackson

When I write, I write from a place of vulnerability. It’s a form of release and can sometimes be a way of me working through my shit. Putting it all down in a journal isn’t always enough. Publishing it on here, for anyone to read is that extra step I need to take towards loving and accepting who I am. If I’m scared to push the ‘Save&Publish’ button then I know it’s going to be a good one. 

I write about love a lot. So many things in our lives are driven by this feeling…it’s a universal language, something we all desire, something we all understand. It makes sense it occupies my thoughts and fills my pages. 

My track record isn’t the best. I’ve been in and out of relationships. I’ve been fought for, I’ve been chased, I’ve been told I was ‘the one’ more than once, and I’ve just about always been the one to leave. Men have hated me and loved me simultaneously. I’m not easy to love. My heart is wild and indecisive, there hasn’t been a single person who has made me want to stay. 

With a past such as mine it’s hard not to think that as soon as the right one comes along they won’t choose me.

I grew up as an only child. This surprises a lot of people. I’m not your classic case. I didn’t grow up privileged — we were “poor” in an American sense of the word, living off of food stamps and cafeteria food. My parents got divorced when I was one and my Mother had a brain tumor when she was pregnant with me. She’s been living off of disability ever since.

I often times didn’t get what I wanted in the form of material things but more in experiences. If I wanted to go out with my friends past curfew that’s exactly what I did. I drank a lot and often stayed out all night. I didn’t make it easy for anyone in my family. 

I’m a very different person now than I was then but I’ve carried that ‘I’m going with or without you’ mentality into each one of my relationships. It makes my partners feel insignificant and unimportant.The moment my goals and desires aren’t in line with my partners — I bail. 

I’ve had men say that my wild spirit is what they love about me. But act surprised when they see it’s not just a phase. Now they have to try to build a life with this wild spirit. There’s two sides to every story… and in the past I’ve been uncompromising and stubborn. Resisting putting in the work because I never felt fully invested.

I’m learning to acknowledge and be honest about my past. To let go and to open up to someone new without being afraid of it blowing up in my face.

When you reach me and the gaps of distance are filled with your hand in mine. When the sun hits the horizon. When the bottle of wine is empty. That’s when my truth will spill over and your hand will tighten around mine with understanding and acceptance or slip from my grasp with fear and disappointment.