What’s in a name?

 I’ve been trying to kill off one of my identities for decades.

I didn’t know until recently that that’s what I’ve been trying to do. When a couple decades ago, one of my bosses pointed out that I was vaguely schizophrenic in all the ways I self-identified, he wasn’t wrong. There’s a story here, so bear with me while I unwrap it.

There’s a name I grew up with. It’s not quite a dead name, since there are people I know and love now who don’t know me by any other name. But that name connects me to shame, so starting about three decades ago, I began using another name. This is the name most of the people in my life use now.   

Why? 

When I decided to use the new name, I was trying to put some distance between the then ‘new me’ and who I perceived to be ‘loser me.’ That’s a whole ‘nother post, but the upshot is that I learned some stuff and wanted to be better—not necessarily someone else, but some one who is wasn’t some one else’s goat.

“Why all the names?” Boss asked me. I couldn’t articulate it at the time, but I can tell you right now I was trying to shed some baggage.

Then some other stuff happened, and some people tried to bully me into killing myself under that name.

The name didn’t die there, but it came close, and would have taken me with it if it did.

Then my kids went through their paces, their turns through the school district, and the voice that is the me you know from this blog emerged.

And this is who I am.