Just now, I was doing one of those quiz things where you take the first three letters of your last name and the first three letters of your first name, then the street you were born on, or whatever — and I went to use the first three letters of the last name I’ve had for almost 22 years. And it felt wrong. It didn’t feel attached to me any longer. It felt like a crutch I no longer need to use.
And I used my maiden name instead, and it felt right. It felt like me. I remember who I used to be when I used this name, and I like her.
Perhaps it’s time for that name change I didn’t think I wanted… but at the time, I wanted to maintain as much of the normalcy of my life as possible. I was not ok with any sudden moves. Perhaps now I feel more solid. More secure. Perhaps it’s time for me to be that girl again.
(Plus, I almost feel like, every time I introduce myself to someone, I have to be kind of apologetic in case they know my ex and have seen his behavior. We’re so different now; I really don’t want that trail of crumbs that says, “yeah. I was there. I’m still part of that.” Because I’m not. Emphatically not. And that’s by his choice as much as mine. He and his family slid back and away like a car I passed on the highway, and I find I’m just fine with that.)