Why I Once Loved a Jackson Mainefeatured

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 19, lost, confused, and completely uncomfortable in my own skin. I was a girl who wanted love but hid it behind a party girl attitude.

I was down for any night of forgetting it all. I would go wherever the wind blew, a breezy girl of sorts. I was constantly on social media and I made sure to always be at the cool places all my “friends” would check in at.

One night it all changed. One night I met a person who would turn my entire universe upside down. He wasn’t cute at all. Heck, he was probably the most unattractive person in the room.

But. He moved me. He found a way into my head and my heart soon after that. I had no clue what was happening at the time except for the fact that I had a new “buddy.”

Things started off turbulent and ended up much worse, but I persisted. I wanted this man in my life and I did everything in my power to keep him around in any way that I could.

I paid for dinners. I suggested concerts. I saw a light in him and I wanted it to shine brighter. Not just for anyone, but just for me.

I saw glimpses of his light from time to time. He was a writer just like me. He “got” me, I thought. He would change his ways because of me and only me, I thought.

At some point I had a feeling he was an alcoholic. I mean, 13 beers a night pointed to yes, right?

Wrong.

Although my gut told me he was, my heart refused to believe it. I began to think I could replace the alcohol. But I didn’t stand a chance.

Things got progressively worse day after day. I kept loving him. It was strange though. This “love” felt more like pity. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to drink hot chocolate by the fire with him every night instead of having beers. That’s not what happened.

I held onto to him like he was my the answer to all. If I could get him to just love me, it would all be fine I thought.

Long story short. He never loved me and would never love me. He loved the alcohol. He loved the party. I was just a means to an end.

I loved him because he wasn’t real. I liked the idea of saving someone when the only person that truly needed saving was me.

And that’s the thing about loving sick people. It provides distraction that can become addicting. It makes you fall deep into a vicious cycle of service. You become too blind to see what you really are, a fine enabler at best.

I loved an alcoholic because it was so easy to “love” something that was so broken. To love something that would clearly never love me back.

It was a troubling time where I was searching to control something… anything. Truth is, I could never and did never control him.

It wasn’t until I lost complete control of who I was that I realized I was running on a hamster wheel. I was so far gone that it took years to recover…to realize that I am a powerful, intelligent, and highly empathetic human being.

I loved a Jackson Maine but Jackson Maine never really loved me. But that’s okay because I have learned to love myself on an entirely different level. A level that no other will ever be able to break or even reach for that matter.

Love Deeply and Forever,

Karen

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