Maybe I'm just a huge dork that looks to writers for inspiration and finds solace in the fact that some of the most beloved writers of today were once depressed drunks. I know that last part definitely made me sound a little nuts but hear me out. These were people the world largely ignored. They were just following the only thing they knew they were good at and getting ridiculed by themselves and their peers. What a harsh life walking the road you were created to follow. Next month my husband Kristian and I will be moving. We will be packing up five years of our life into small cardboard boxes and making the haul back to my hometown of New Orleans. Home holds lots of memories for me, but for the sake of time, I am only going to mention one today; New Orleans is the place I chose my first road.
I moved to Dallas from New Orleans, though I had always complained about how much I despised Texas and would never live there, I did it! I met Kristian there, finished school there, and created lifelong bonds there.
Then came Florida. The road to Florida was exciting at first. A new job for Kristian, a new adventure for me; a new city, new people, but it all began to get a little dull after the first year. I wasn't meeting people. The city was more like a town. I wasn't in school anymore, I didn't know what I wanted to do, I felt frustrated at this point I had come to. Eventually I made friends, started my business, and grew to love my new home.
Soon, I will trek back to New Orleans. Unlike when I left, I have a clear vision for how I want my future to look. I am learning to ignore the naysayers, because I am finding they actually don't relent no matter how much you work to prove them wrong. Negative people follow you everywhere and will have opinions about everything. As if the voice in your head following you around isn't enough, occasionally asking for advice (that you always hope will be what you want to hear) can turn into new wounds, friends don't believe in the road you're wandering, and parents always want you to do something just a little bigger. So excuse me while I read Robert Frost's cliche poetry about the choices we will inevitably face, the roads we were meant to choose, and those we can never go back down.