Hello, my name is M.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
You can call me M. I am in my early 30s. I live in major Candian city and I'm in a creative field. I am married, and my partner is a working professional. By many accounts, my life is close to perfect: a paid off car, a new home and a happy cat that is actually glad to see me when I came home. I'm a photographer and writer in my spare time, and we lead a sparkling social life.
Backtrack to just after we purchased our new home in October of 2010. The purchase was almost accidental, and I felt like I was forced to move from a condo where I was happy and comfortable to a house that was, to me, empty and full of bad memories - the house was sold to us as part of a divorce of a family friend. I had lived in condos my entire life, and just the thought of living in a house, with all its responibilties, scared the living crap out of me.
With a house, of course, came the expectations of the 2.5 children from my family and my partner. I have never had the buring urge to reproduce (I still don't). Worse yet, I was beginning to see myself being labeled a "housewife" and be doomed to a future of diapers, Costco's and minivans and fading away into a shell, full of regrets of things I never had a chance to do. At the time, I don't think my partner saw that, he saw the house as an opportunity, a chance to complete his life, to settle down and move to the next stage in his life.
I don't ever recall feeling so hopeless and helpless, and I was surrounded by friends and family that are so hopeful and eager to help.
And then I met him online. Where and how are unimportant. Sufface to say that it was in a place where I least expected to meet anyone with anything in common.
A chef, a musician, a poet. Let's call him Nate. He lives in one of my favorite city in the world- New Orleans.
It all started innocently enough- Just expanding my social circle and talking to people I would never have a chance to meet. I soon found myself pouring out my deepest fears to Nate, vocalizing them for the first time. And for the first time, I found a sympthizing ear..I needed to figure out how I could have everything and still be so completely miserable and to shake this feeling of being so completely trapped.
I remember that lightbulb moment- I was standing at my kitchen table and it suddenly clicked. I needed to go to New Orleans.
A confession - why I'm here...
I'm a strict believer that we all do somthing to keeps our brains in check - to keep us all balanced.
Well, I write. More importantly, i write about me. I usually write fiction with hints of truth, but I feel the need to bare my soul which leads to this online confesional. I hear its good for the soul, to confess to it all. If I was catholic, my priest would have heard about this by now.
...or maybe it's becasue I don't want to forget what happened.
