My name was a big deal. It is a big deal. I don't mean I can find it up in lights on a marquee somewhere. I just mean it matters to me. Changing my name back to my birth name after my divorce was final was something I had been wanting before I ever changed it as a newlywed.
My name change was the first fight I ever lost. I think it was an early discovery for my ex that I can't deal with grownups crying. He figured it out before I did. Crying adults are not something I saw often as a child. I don't think I've ever seen my Mom cry. I only saw my Dad cry with the death of a family member. I understand crying from pain or loss. Those tears are supposed to fall. I can be a rock for someone else while tears are falling. My tears are almost always private. Even living with someone else, I can usually hide my tears in the same bed. I can't handle others crying because they don't like the way life is playing out. It's the quickest way to see me lose a fight or lose my shit. Flip a coin on that. I won't know my reaction until you do.
I wanted to keep my name. I wanted to hyphenate his name onto mine. I wanted him to take on my last name. It's likely my last name will die out with my generation. My Dad had daughters and we gave our sons the names of their fathers. My cousin that can pass on the family name has never chosen fatherhood. I wanted to keep it and I couldn't because I made his wants more important than mine.
My divorce papers arrived on Friday and by Tuesday at 2:37 I was taking my first selfie after I had taken my new driver's license picture with my name change.
I arrived early at the Social Security Administration. I knew it'd be a long day and I arrived 45 minutes before they opened. By the time we were let inside, I was able to see someone, take care of business and be done within 11 minutes. My form was filled out over the weekend. My divorce papers were with me. We made small talk as she did everything for me. When she handed me a letter stating that the changes were made, I was so moved and over joyed. It was a rare moment when I began blinking back tears in front of a stranger. I felt so foolish for my tears of joy, but that's how over whelmed I felt. It was years of my life. It was total rejection. It was tears and loneliness. It was filing after filing. It was income taxes paid to an attorney. It was transformation from change I never wanted. It was difficulty and it was survival.
My next stop was the California DMV. I was unwilling to wait a month and a half for an appointment. I brought my Kindle and ended up 12 chapters into a new book before I was called to hand in my paper work, sign a check, take a picture and walk about with an interim license. It was about 5 hours.
The next days have been a series of signing into websites to add new emails to everything. It has been changing usernames and calling banks to make changes. I have forms filled out to reissue my degrees and certificate. It's new (spam free) email addresses.
The thing about my name is it was about me. So much of my marriage was about being half of a whole. It didn't feel like I was part of it because I was trying to be someone else. I don't mean he wanted someone else. I mean the person I was became someone I thought I should be.
I am Yessica Reedy, smoking occasional cigars, loving the geometry of shooting pool, shit talking and honest. I felt like I couldn't smoke cigars or cigarettes because he didn't want me to. Hanging out with guy friends (all of my friends were men) wasn't the way a wife should behave. I hate cleaning up anything and I suffered through it because I was expected to. My only career goal has always been to make enough money to hire someone to clean up after me, and I was the only one to clean up. It was my job so I didn't get help.
I was the one to graduate high school with honors. I was the one that learned the coping skills to work through suicidal thoughts and depression. I was the one that advocated for our children. I was the one that found a way to go to school and earn my degree with his begrudging every quarter. I was the one to earn several scholarships and be awarded at Honor's Convocations that he chose not to go to (except once). The badassery I amassed under my belt was all me and I did it under his name because I was his wife and that title made me feel like property.
A lot of what we did as a couple was what we did individually. We didn't really connect as a couple. We did things separately but along side each other. We were in the same vicinity but lived separate lives. We shared children and a bed. We shared names and went on vacation together, but even then did a lot of things separately. I did things as his wife but he didn't do things with his wife.
My name means so much because it's mine. It's who I am and who I was born to be. I'm not carrying the baggage of the ideal of who I should be to everyone else. At the end of the day I matter to me enough to know that what I have to say, think or feel is what is important. It's freedom. It's beautiful.
And now my name is mine again. It feels so good to have it back and I've been dancing randomly and laughing at silliness. I was at a happy hour at the Bungalow after work tonight and just looked up at the sky and that feeling of joy from knowing I'm a divorcee with my name back just opened up a whole new fit of giggles.