2010: New Name
Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why?
(Author: Becca Wilcott)
When I was younger, I used to wish I had a different name. I didn’t like my name at all. I’m not sure why.
When I was in middle school, some friends told me I looked like a Becky. I don’t really know how a person looks like one name or another, but haven’t you ever seen someone and just thought, “That person looks like a Todd. I bet his name is Todd”? (Fill in name as appropriate.)
So sometimes I’d jokingly be called Becky by my school friends. And then, randomly around the same time, another person from a completely different part of my life (no connection whatsoever to the friends calling me this) called me Becky, too.
But I don’t really like the name Becky. Ok that’s not true. Becky is a perfectly fine name but it’s not my name.
However, the whole time I thought I didn’t like my name, I couldn’t land on a name I did like.
And then as times got rough in my life, I’d at times think about running away and starting over. I’d just go – get a bus ticket and go until I was out of money. End up in some place who knows where and be someone new. A year and a half ago, when my world was upside down and I couldn’t face another day, I’d think about running away again. Start over. Fresh. But I never could think of a name.
Instead I decided I’d show up somewhere with “amnesia” and let the town name me. I’d probably end up as Becky again.
But as I’ve grown older, I’ve really gotten attached to my name. I love it. I love that it’s spelled differently than most (my full name: Deborah instead of Debra, my nickname: Debi instead of Debby/Debbie). I love that it’s short. I love when I’m called “Deb” and his lips curl into a smile as he says it.
So, I’m sorry Reverb10. Hello, my name is Debi. That’s who I want to be.