Hello! My name is…not Marc. But that is what I have everyone call me. I haven’t introduced myself by my real name in years, and to most people I am Marc. The few members of my family who will even talk to me are mostly confused by this, but it’s hard to explain that the name I grew up with holds a lot of memories, both good and bad, but mostly good. As I try to traverse life with depression, PTSD, and anxiety, I find that I don’t want my name to become something I hate to hear. When my boss fires me, I don’t want it to be the same name my mother yelled as she hit me. When someone tells me off, I don’t want the name they’re yelling at me to mean anything more than just that: a name. I don’t necessarily think it’s a good idea, but going by Marc helps me to stay detached. The name means nothing to me, and therefore can’t be used to hurt me. I want to reach a point in my life where I am proud of my name, which means “Open House”. I want to be able to own it without caring who mistreated me, and I’m working toward that day. Even in my professional career I don’t use my real name, hiding behind the anonymity of Marc Cade. I often joke and smile and laugh, because if I’m not laughing, I’m crying. I’ve never met anyone who understands this logic, and I’m not entirely sure that I do either, but I keep working toward the day when I can be myself, vulnerable and naked before everyone, and be happy that I am who I am. I’m not at all happy with myself now, so my name is Marc.