1/16/2017

"...but we love it and doesn't that count for something?..."


For as long as I can remember I have always hated my name. Before I was married I focused on my hatred for my surname, of the man who gave it to me, of all the bad memories he brought. Part of the reason I got married so young {aside from love} was that I just wanted to be rid of that horrid surname and all the bad memories that went along with it. I felt no sense of pride hearing it. The name didn't belong to me. It never did. I was glad to be rid of it.

Next, came the hatred of my middle name because it's the first name of my mother and, to me, for always, she was never the mother I needed or wanted. And, so, when my mental health got really bad and she was no longer a part of my life I got rid of the middle name and, with that, I shed another layer of unnecessary hatred from my life.

After that, came the hatred for my first name.

It's at this point I feel like I should point out that I know I could just not associate all the bad people and things with my names but I'm not wired that way so let's just leave it at that. I don't just hate my first name because of the people who gave it to me. Nope. I also hate the stupid thing because it's a dumb name and every time people ask me my name they say:

Jade?
Jane?
What?
Really?
Like the letter?
Oh, that's interesting!...
Isn't that a boys name?
Are you named after someone special?

Anyway, I hate my name. Hate it. It's stupid. End of story.

Or, rather... I hated my name. I am now, thanks to my adorable kid, slowly, learning to like it. B. knows that I hate my name but she has never understood why. She usually calls me "mum" or "chook" so it's never really been a problem but as she's gotten older she's questioned my distaste for it more and more.

One day, in the checkout at a supermarket, while she was calling me Jaye and I was stamping my foot and pouting and calling her something silly in retaliation she stopped, held my hand and said --

but we love it and doesn't that count for something?

And I felt tears well in my eyes. Not just because she said something so ridiculously sweet but, also, because I get a bit teary when she recycles phrases I use.

In response I mumbled something like -- I guess I could try. And with that I have been trying. For B. And maybe, eventually, I will learn to like Jaye after all. Who knows? One day I might even love it. 

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