Thinking…what’s in a name? As we go through our varied experiences, and though our bodies change, our personality alters, our name remains the same. Perhaps like a magnet, it gets so many adjectives attached to it that we have to take stock and do a mental cleansing at times. Clearing our name. Remember or keeping the things we want to and choose to keep attached to our name.
I shudder at the thought of my name, how many people have called it, where I have seen it printed, like on my first degree or on the programme the day I took my first communion at church. I’ve heard my name, call on the radio, when I wondered how the hell was I expected to get through an interview with all this stuttering.
I have heard them say really good things, using my name, like ‘Stacy is so nice’, and I have thought ‘Hmmmm…really, its not about being….nice…’. I have heard second hand some of the negative things said about using my name, and have wondered why not say it to my face, speaking directly to me so I could address you.
I have heard my name being said with words like ..’I love you’, read in ‘love’ letters or attached to the bottom of beautiful cards…heard it being whispered, screamed…my name. Today I sit back and play them all over in my head…the things that have preceeded or followed my name, and I am confused. Moments I want to cry, scream, get angry…emotions I never expressed in the moments I heard my name, moments I let slip by because I didn’t NEED to respond. My name follows me and sometimes its saddening, I’m not all too proud of everything my name has seen or with all the things it has been called, piled up. I try to forget, but my name still sticks,..memories of glory days, the pain of the pain I have caused to be attached to my name.
There is good and bad, ugly and beautiful. For the people who have felt pain at the mention or memory of my name, if it is something you deserved I am glad, if not, I am extremely sorry things had to work out that way. For the people who have felt stronger and empowered, I am proud and it wasn’t a one way street. As a matter of fact, there are no one way streets.