The Name Game

We pick up our little journey in the early Spring. Which in Florida is very early. I was navigating, and sometimes circum-navigating, life as best I could, but really needed to figure out who I was, and who I was becoming.

Names have always been important to me. I don’t know why. I’ve tried my best to remember names of folks, wanting to not succumb to the standard, “I’m terrible at remembering names” excuse. It really can be difficult, and I don’t know why about that, either. We all do it, struggle with it, have to make up “name games” to remember who gets what name. I don’t take offense when someone doesn’t remember my name, in fact I assume they don’t remember. And I don’t get embarrassed if I have to ask someone to repeat their name for me. I’d rather do that than struggle my way through a conversation and act like I know what I don’t know. But, what about my name? What people call me, how they identify me, how they yell at me across the grocery store – what exactly is that?!?

I like my name. Sharon Elizabeth. Not sure where it came from; the only story I’ve heard is that my Daddy picked it out. Don’t know why. I’ve had a few nicknames over the years, but none of them really stuck into adulthood. As shy, scared, and socially awkward as I felt as a kid, I had quite the animated personality, and my nicknames reflected. “Prissy,” “Monkey,” “Lib,” “Lizzy,” “Sharona” “Sharoon,” all silliness, nothing with glue, and that’s ok. It sounds odd to me now if someone calls me by one of those. My husband has a couple of nicknames for me, but more times than not, especially when he’s giving me a little grief about something I’ve said or done, he calls me “Ms. Ganus.” That’s when I shoot back at him with a “Dr. Brooks.” Makes life fun.

I spent a great deal of time, and energy, and internal grinding, trying to figure out who I was, who I needed to be, who I wanted to be, who I was comfortable with. When I married at twenty-one I chose the traditional route of dropping my middle name, making my last name my middle name, and taking on my husband’s last name. I always missed my Elizabeth, but it was ok because that was just what you did. There was never a question of what my name must become, everybody did it that way and so would I. But after a divorce, what’s to be done? In my experience most women keep their married name. There are usually children with that name, it’s a pain to change your identity, you’re established in business, you have licenses and degrees in that name, etc. Usually women only make the major change when they re-marry. I debated, struggled, chewed, laid it down, picked it up, wrestled with it for quite awhile. But I knew in my heart what I wanted to do. So I did.

Now, when you divorce, you have the opportunity right then to choose to change your name and have no additional cost, no additional court appearance, no additional paperwork. I didn’t make that choice. I have a son with that name, a business with that name, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to make any more decisions on that day. But it kept gnawing. It was time. I could do it on my terms, in my timing, and outside of anybody else’s business. I contacted my attorney and set into motion a legal name change. I was going back to my roots to find myself, to take a deep breath. I knew it wasn’t going to come without some frustrations and a ton of paperwork, but that was ok. The hardest part was telling my son.

I went before the judge in a very short court appearance, briefly explaining why I didn’t change my name months prior with the divorce, and with a rap of the gavel, I was me again. Whoever that was. It was time to find out, I suppose.

I figured the most difficult transition would be with my clients; after all, I had a better than twenty-five year business under that name. Much to my surprise, it was actually the easiest part. They adapted immediately, and it was a delightful transition.

I was once again who I was before, taking back the name my parents gifted me at my entrance to this crazy world. It was strange, yet cathartic. A new journey, I just wasn’t sure where this journey was taking me. But I knew what my name was. It was odd to hear myself say it, odd to hear others say it, but strangely not odd to not hear the other name. I didn’t wholly recognize it, but I knew I’d never lose it again; that will forever be a non-negotiable.

Though I felt like I was in a bit of a fog, or cloud, or parallel universe most of the time, I knew it wouldn’t last forever, and I knew I’d be happy in the long run with my decision. What I didn’t know was how much I’d struggle when the time came to figure out what my name would be when I married again. I was adamant I wouldn’t lose my name, but didn’t want to not take his name. Let’s just put a giant “uuuugggghhhhhh” here.

As it happened one day, I was taking care of a girlfriend’s hair and our conversation turned to our names. Have no idea why or how it got there. Most conversations in the salon start and end that way. No rhyme or reason, no measurable trajectory – just buckshot. Anyway, we were having this conversation and she said, “Well, you know my name’s not really Jessica*, right?” Um, no ma’am, I was unaware of that until this moment. (I’d always only known her as Jessica, which isn’t exactly a nickname, it’s a real, full name.) Huh. “Yeah, I chose Jessica because I didn’t really love my name, but all my family calls me by my original given name, Belinda Jane. I chose Jessica and told everyone that was my name. Then, when I got married, I just added my husband’s last name. It’s long, but it’s all there.”

Excuse me?

So, I asked her what her full, legal, social security and driver license name is. I was beside myself with excitement!!! “Belinda Jane Jessica Anderson Greene.” Holy moly, it IS all there! I had absolutely NO idea you could do this! Keep your entire name and just ADD to it?!?!?! My problem was immediately solved! (I laugh at myself even now. My reaction to her was genuine, and hilarious. But I was elated.)

Now, the most important side note is this: I had married, and my husband put absolutely no pressure on me to change my name to his. He knew and understood my personal grappling, understood the lengths I had just taken, didn’t care what my name was legally. I could go by his name socially and go by my name legally – people do it all the time. We were both good with that compromise. But, deep down, we both wanted more. When I found out I could have ALL the names, we were both happy. I wanted to take his name, but didn’t want to lose mine. This was the most fantastic merge.

Once again, I began the pain-in-the-butt process of name change. In case anybody cares to know, you start the process at the Social Security office, not the DMV. Social Security is top of the food chain when it comes to identity, then driver license, then everything else as it comes up in life. Best of luck to you if you ever have to go through the gauntlet.

It is finished. The process is complete. My name is long, and folks often have a hard time understanding why I have two middle names. Sometimes I even get odd stares of confusion and little snarky laughs, as though that’s the dumbest thing they’d ever heard. Ok. Doesn’t bother me any. You get to be you, I get to be me. And I’m happy as a clam about it. I get to keep all of me, I get to be all of him, I have a whole identity that is mine, and I’ve never been happier about the dumbest thing ever.

So, why the “just call me Sharon?”

That’s maybe a little emotionally complicated, too. But I think it boils down to this. It’s been the only consistent, hasn’t ever changed, people who once loved me and no longer do called me by other names that I don’t want to hear, I’ve changed my last name several times and people forget, and why should they have to remember anyway, and emails and handles change and good gravy JUST CALL ME SHARON already. geez. :p I don’t need to be all formal and be “Mrs.,” I don’t need to be addressed with a full name, I don’t need to explain anything – JUST CALL ME SHARON. I know who I am and what my whole long name is, you don’t need to keep up with it. (And I mean that in the nicest way possible, not the snarky way it could sound when you read it.) Just call me Sharon. It’s super easy that way. I’m Sharon Brooks, but please, Just Call Me Sharon. Nice to meet you 🙂