What’s in a Name? What Happened When I Changed my Name (& How My La...

I read This Post: Nameology/A Study on What You Call me by Hive account@limabeing

The post intrigued me and brought up some different things for me that I wanted to write about.

What is in a name ?
A name is a label. It gives an impression upon the value that a person has placed on you. It tells people what to think of you as far as where you are from, your age, potentially your demeanor. If I called myself Betty Or Brunhilde you would have a completely different perception, I believe. I think im gonna look for research on this.

My name is who I am, it is in essence me especially my chosen name.)

I LOVED her post and how many different variations there are in a name, in what we're called, what we're referred to and our own chosen name. The writing just made me realize... or made me want to try and put into words my own feelings about my own name and my story.

My experience is different from some in that I chose to change my name in my late teens and then legally changed it at 19 before having my first child... so my story is more about that than what other people call me.

I have a few names that other's call me. I have 5 children who call me "Mom" "Marm" "Mommy" (and a few kids who aren't actually mine call me those things too!) I have two grandkids that call me "Grandma" and really... I don't get called much of anything (to my face anyway!) by other people, aside from the occasional "Intimidating" so I guess that's about it.

My dad chose my name. Apparently one of the first things he said after I was born was, "Holy shit! She's ugly, she looks JUST LIKE ME!" (and I still look just like a female version of him) Of course stories are exaggerated in my family all the time, but the point is he chose my name.

As long as I can remember, I always disliked my name. Not in any way that I could have put words to, it just felt awkward and uncomfortable. It was like a shirt that was sewn just slightly askew, with fabric that was just a little too rough and seams that were a little bit scratchy. Nothing specific, nothing huge, just… it never felt like me.

I tried, at times, to put my feelings into words. My friends all had fun nicknames, and I tried to think of one for myself, but nothing seemed to fit.

I got called “names” in elementary school (and got start out at so many new schools, it just became routine), but of all the things I hated about my name, the teasing over the name “Robin” was just… lame. I remember being 8 years old and just rolling my eyes at the “Oh, you’re a BIRD! HAHAHAHA” and I would just wonder if anyone had any imagination at all.

In high school, I really didn’t like my name because it felt “normal” and “boring” to me. It seemed like an average name, uninspired and totally without individuality to me. I can’t imagine if my name had been Laura or Heather, since there were dozens of those!

At any rate, the older I got, the more I found my name was chafing at me. Rubbing me the wrong way. It just wasn’t right in some way I couldn’t define.

Somewhere around age 16, I decided to change my name. At first it was just a nickname, but it soon became something more solid to me.

My senior year of high school started and I claimed the name “Byn” instead of “Robin.” My teachers all called me by my chosen name (which was a surprise to me then and in hindsight, even more of a surprise, even though “William” was called “Bill” or “Billy” and Bob instead of Robert wasn’t a problem, either. Still I’m glad that my teachers just went with it and didn’t make a big deal of it.

I need to also say that my mother (and probably about the only person whose opinion mattered to me at that time) was supportive as well. She just wanted me to be happy and she respected my choices.

Two weeks after high school I moved two states away to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A much MUCH bigger city than I had been to before. I went to school there, got a new driver’s license and social security card that had my new first name “Byn” on it. Back in those days, it was as simple as going to the tag agency and saying, “Hey, I actually go by this name” and they changed it. I’m pretty sure it would take more than that in this day and age.

My new name felt RIGHT. It definitely felt like me and was comfortable, like it finally fit right, was made of the proper materials and was made just for me.

The rest of my name… and the legal name change was yet to come.

Most of my extended family ignored my name change and I even understood for a while. I mean, they’d all been calling me by one name for 16+ years, it is hard to change habits. Still, there were a couple of “I’m NEVER going to call you by that name, it’s not your name.” just because that’s how they are. I mostly ignored them, since I wasn’t terribly close to them anyway, it just didn’t matter enough to me to argue the point. Most of the time.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think that a lot of my dissatisfaction with my name was directly related to my severely dysfunctional relationship with my father. The fact that He had been the one to choose my name really just… bothered me. I don’t think I would have blamed my desire to change my name on only that fact, but looking back, I’m sure it had a lot to do with it. As a teenager, the more my father denied me, ignored me or treated me like shit, the less I wanted any connection to him. I suppose that the only real connection that I felt I couldn’t really change was my name… until I DID change it. And maybe that is why a “little” thing like changing my name made such a significant difference for me.

When I was 19, in an unusual set of circumstances for it, I met my soulmate Patrick. At least the guy I felt was my fate, my one true love. Unfortunately, it didn’t last at that point. He broke up with me because… well, that’s another story, but let’s just say that for now, he broke up with me because he was 19 as well and just couldn’t handle the intensity of the feelings we had… and (quite understandably) couldn’t deal with some majorly significant emotional/mental baggage that I was carrying around.

Onward to the next phase of my life. I met an older guy and we fell into a relationship. He wanted kids. I wanted kids… and one thing led to another… I got pregnant.

This is only relevant to the story because we were living in Iowa at the time, and in that state, you can only legally change your name one time. I really wanted my legal name change BEFORE I had the baby, before I had to sign a birth certificate and all that. My boyfriend suggested that if I was going to legally change my name before having the baby, I should go ahead and change my first AND last name if I wanted to. He was doing all of the paperwork for me, so I took his advice and tried to think of a last name. I mean, if I was going to do something, I might as well do it All The Way.

Now one other thing you should probably know at this point… I was still completely and utterly in love with Patrick Hive account@serapium. My soulmate, my one true love. No other relationship had that same pull or connection that we’d had. As a matter of fact, my boyfriend (I guess they call them ‘Baby Daddy’ now) and I had just watched a movie called “Always” that is in the end a story about “soulmates” and losing her one true love…I sobbed my heart out and that movie gutted me. It totally made me think of Patrick and how I’d lost my “One True Love” (in a way I was being dramatic, I suppose, being pregnant and young. As life plays out, though, I wonder if I was even being dramatic at all. Patrick was and still IS my “One.”

So That my dears, is how I ended up choosing the last name “Always.”

Of course the Always brand feminine products came out soon thereafter, but hey, at least they were good quality products ;)

So now I had a new first name and a last name and everything was great.

Well… great in that moment. There was still the matter of the dissociative identity disorder and the other names I had, but that is REALLY a story for another time. Maybe a novel for another time.

Now days, There is Still that one relative that I rarely see, but when I do, she makes damn sure that the first thing out of her mouth is to call me/introduce me as “Robin” just to affirm that she still has no respect for me or my choices (and thus has no place in my life, because I’m done with toxic bullshit from anyone and long ago lost the desire to put up with anyone especially just because they are related by blood… but that’s yet ANOTHER story for another day.)

Anyway, that was the beginning. That was how I changed my name and how I went from ‘normal’ and uncomfortable to being Me. Annnnd how meeting my "Other Half" at age 19 changed my LAST name as well... even though at the time we weren't together and I didn't think we would ever find each other again at that point!

**There is yet another story in there of why I didn't change my last name when we got married... but maybe I'll save that for our not-so-romantic-wedding story on our anniversary or something!