My husband use to refer to the internet as the devil. He trusts nothing that takes place on the screens I’m constantly working from. It’s easy to sit back and judge something you haven’t allowed yourself to explore. I finally broke him out of his no-internet accessing flip phone, and he has now come to the dark side.

Where I’m engrossed in social media and keeping up with my readers and fellow authors, he’s now consumed by stupid, childish games that make absolutely no sense to me. He likes to complain and assume the worst on my end, throwing out the fact that he’s kept in the dark and has no clue who I interact with. This is true. I do keep him out of my author world bubble. It’s mine. I don’t want to share it with him. If I allow him to get close enough, I know he’ll pop it. And I’m not ready to fall down to reality. He doesn’t get my “job” and doesn’t even see it as one—although he doesn’t complain when my “job” buys him stuff.

Funny how that works.

The internet is my office. And a very, very distracting one at times. But it’s a necessity. I wouldn’t be known without it. He doesn’t get it. He has no clue how much work goes into this passion of mine that has turned into a career. The truth of the matter is, he doesn’t support me. So therefore, his mind isn’t open to everything that goes hand in hand with me being an author. All he sees is me on my laptop or phone and he instantly thinks I’m chatting with people—guys—I shouldn’t be.

And maybe I do.

And maybe I shouldn’t.

I’m unhappy. I’ve been this way for a couple years now—since I started writing my books, to be more precise. I didn’t wake up one day and tell myself, “Self, I want to be an author.” I woke up one day realizing I needed more in my life. Not that being a stay at home mother and wife wasn’t satisfying, but it definitely wasn’t quenching my thirst. Something was missing, and I was on a mission to find it. That’s when I discovered writing and that I could write out whatever I wanted and toss it into the black-hole known as the internet and if someone read it, cool.

It felt amazing letting out anything and everything I had on my mind without any expectations in return. Slowly I started gaining readers. It was scary and exciting. There were actually people who wanted to read what I had to say. Why? I didn’t understand it. But as they started conversing with me, one by one, I realized I wasn’t alone in the grand scheme of life. And that felt good. I felt like my purpose had been found. And I planned on embracing it no matter who had my back, which my husband didn’t. But his unsupportiveness didn’t detour me from continuing my writing journey. It wasn’t a choice. It’s my destiny, my future, the passion burned throughout me and I couldn’t extinguish it even if I wanted to. And yes, there have been times I wished I could shut the ideas out. It completes me and gives me a sense of purpose. When a reader tells you that your story moved them, helped them, made them laugh or they related even a tiny bit to something you wrote—it changes you.

And that’s exactly what’s happened to me.

I’ve changed.

And dammit, I like who I’m becoming.

I want to embrace this revolution rising within me. I want to spread my wings and expand my horizons and see where the possibilities of it can one day lead.

But I can’t.

Because I’m stuck.

Being a prisoner to a life of contentment, knowing that you settled and wishing you knew then what you know now is so disheartening. I’m married to someone I wanted by my side from the get go, but wouldn’t grab my hand. Now that he sees me pulling away, knowing I’m unhappy, he’s grasping for my fingertips, trying desperately to slip his fingers between mine and grip with all his might.

But it’s too late. My fingertips are now digging into my hands, forming fists. Him refusing to take the journey with me, not only hardened my stance against him, but also my heart.

I can’t change it. I can’t change the way I feel. I can’t go back to two years ago when I picked up the first book I ever had the urge to read, and warn myself of what would take place once I closed that story with a new outlook on life. And if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to.

I knew it the first time he came over to my apartment and we ended up sleeping together that I was settling. I was compromising who I was, and who I wanted to be—even though I wasn’t sure of who that was.

The ironic part of it all is me settling led to my passion. But now I’m in a predicament. Do I stay with the man who loves me, but doesn’t know how to fully support me, and stay unhappy and fake it for the rest of my life…or do I jump bail and find what brings me joy? I already know the answer, but I tried it once. It wasn’t planned out, and in return left me freaking out. I have kids to take care of. I have to be smart instead of jumping on a whim and praying for a safe landing.

Waiting it out shouldn’t be hard, right?

I’m sure most will say it’s me being a horrible wife and that I shouldn’t have put myself in this situation. To an extent, I agree. I know I should leave my husband before flirting with the opposite sex. I know all I’m doing now is flirting with disaster.

I can’t help it…or stop it.

It could all be the fucking author in me reading into it, writing my own personal whacked out fairytale.

I know people say the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, but something inside me makes me want to test that theory.

Harlow Paige is a known author using a pen to shield her identity (and others) as she writes about her adventures and many, many mishaps in the world of online dating. Her Series of Cliches is bound to resonate within any woman who has jumped back into the dating saddle. No worries if single-hood doesn’t apply to you. This series will be full of real life honesty, as Harlow twists her life experiences with a bit of fiction to keep the reader guessing. Everyone who joins in on this adventure will be able to relate in some form, and if not, will still be rooting her on along the way.

Harlow asks that all willing participants please keep their hands, feet and legs inside the ride at all times. Your safety… and ENJOYMENT is her number one goal. 

Hold on tight—you’re in for one helluva ride!