What's in a name?

My name has changed 3 times in my 25 years of life. Yes, that’s a lot in a short time, I’m well aware. As expected, each of these times has had a huge impact on my life.

Obviously, as most of us are, I was born with a name. As a small child, I was very proud of this name despite the fact that it followed all phonetic rules and yet people still managed to pronounce it wrong. I was a daddy’s girl when I was very young and with him being an athlete and active member of the community, he gave me a lot to be proud of.

As I got older though, life found a way of opening for me closet doors full of skeletons. In addition to this, my father and I had several falling outs and my view of him changed drastically. It was around this time that my name changed for the first time. Although I didn’t feel the need to hold onto the name I was given at birth, I felt nothing but terror about taking the name given to me at my first wedding. Of course it wasn’t the name I was afraid of but everything about the idea of marrying him. Don’t get me wrong, of course there were feelings between us at one time but by the time we were married, those feelings were all but fizzled. Taking his name represented the last step in giving up the life I had worked toward.

As the story goes, nine months later I was filing for divorce. It was during this time that my dad came back to me or me to him; I’m not quite sure. Either way, we more than reconciled. Both of my parents were truly my rocks during the lowest time in my life. I grew closer to my siblings, came to terms with the skeletons I had discovered a couple years earlier and decided that the mistakes of others did not define me.

It was two years before he gave me the divorce and equally as long that his name haunted me. Every time I had to say my name out loud or write it, I was reminded of the mistakes I had made. If you don’t think you write/say your name a lot in 2 years, try taking the name of the person you loathe the most. I guarantee you will become a lot more aware.

By the time the big D-day finally came, I left the courthouse and immediately stopped at the DMV for a new driver’s license. I think I was more proud of it than the first time I went to the DMV for a license.

My daughter though, shares her father, my ex-husband’s name. At first I had a problem with this. As time has passed (and as the saying goes, ‘time heals all wounds’), I have realized that she is my proudest accomplishment and I couldn’t have her without him, so if this means she shares his name, so be it. Everything that was good in that relationship is in her, as well as traits both of us possessed but were too selfish to bring into the relationship.

Not too long ago, I made a decision to give up my birth name yet again. I couldn’t help but reflect how my feelings about it had come around full circle. This time though, it was very bittersweet. I had absolutely no reserves about taking his name, but I had finally learned what my family was all about and exactly which pieces of me each member had given me.

And now here I am. Again, I have a name that I can say without cringing (or wanting to vomit) and I look forward to making it my own. I am already elated to be sharing it with the family I have acquired but also can’t wait to share it with our children. To expand upon what the name already means and give it everything that I have to offer.