Dear Son,

We're doing our very best for you buddy. Hang in there. We'll get through this godforsaken school/life stigma thing...We love you.

-All of us

Is Your Identity Based On Your Last Name?

I was reading this article about identity being tied up with your last name and I think the answer is, sometimes. It really depends on the circumstances and the person. 

I'm taking back my maiden name. Actually, I never got rid of it...just tacked my married name on the end. It made my name ludicrously long, and amused me to no end when I couldn't fit it onto forms. 

When I was getting married my first inclination was to keep my family name. I don't know why, except that I had girlfriends who didn't plan to change their names as they felt it unnecessary and old fashioned. I thought it sounded like a pain in the behind, and it is, particularly when you come to a point in your life where your name is out there in the world on more than just your social security card, the bank, and the DMV. Ex told me it was important to him and would mean a lot if I took his name so, just like with everything else, I caved and did what he wanted me to do.

I didn't discuss it with anyone really, except Partner, my mom and brother. I told them I was taking my name back (really I should say, ditching my married name - but taking my name back sounds much more powerful, and I need to feel powerful right now) because my married family has shunned me, as of my filing divorce papers. I talked about that here. I was proud and happy, mostly, to be a part of the huge clan I married into. They were tight knit and though gossipy, nosy and controlling, they were loving and fun, and had money for big trips and lavish presents. I'd always dreamed of having a big family, as mine was filled with depressive lunatics as well as good, gold-hearted people I adore, that are just too damned far away.

Turns out, you only get to be a part of Ex's extended family if you follow their rules. Duh. I didn't follow the rules, therefore SHUNNED. I'm not the only one who bailed out over the years. There are several of us now, walking wounded who ran for the hills, and I remember the shock, dismay, then utter mean spirited gossip, speculation, and rumors that started immediately on discovering they willingly left the clan.

Yeah, that's me now too. Being shunned by people who professed to love and care about me triggered my abandonment issues and my insecurity. Things I'm working hard on right now.

My family has never left my side, even when I 'abandoned' (my word, not theirs) them as I decided to start pretending everything was ok. They never wavered in their love and support no matter what was happening, and I want to symbolically fold myself back into their bosom.

It means a lot to me.

I worried that my children would be unhappy about me having a different last name, and very briefly I worried about the possible confusion of having a different last name in society. "Society" can kiss my ass too. I need to talk with Kids about it. I will report back with the results of that conversation after I have it. I don't imagine they'd have a problem with it, but with my sweet knuckleheads, you never know. Also, they deserve to know because it will most likely come up sometime.

I briefly considered asking their opinion before I did it, and then I decided that it was my name and I was no longer going to ask anyone for their permission about anything. 

Fuck that. Those days are over. I will consider opinions and suggestions, then decide and do whatever the hell I want.

I'm getting better at it.

Now I'm happier.

Narcissistic Rage

I was reading this and it triggered memories for me. Memories of my father throwing things, screaming and yelling, breaking things...and the abject terror it caused my brother and I, and my mother too.

Wow.

I was reading this and I got to the part where she brings up childhood and that what you learned about being abused as a child affects your adult life. It got me thinking THAT didn't happen to ME. I love my parents. They weren't abusive! So I skimmed those parts of the book and kept reading.

It hit me. My father was emotionally abusive. He was funny and kind and loving and adored us...but when he was angry, we all ducked and covered. And his sarcasm cut like a knife. You didn't want to be the one he was aiming it at. Anything from a bad driver to a young girl walking by chewing gum with her mouth open would set him off.

I remember once he was replacing a toilet that leaked and he bought a brand new one. Big porcelain bowl and all, and if you've ever tried to lift one of those, you know it's heavy. He was replacing it by himself and I just remember hearing a THUNK! Pause...then a slew of every curse word my father knew (and he knows them ALL) started flying out the bathroom door down the hallway and through the house like a black cloud of terror, causing all of us to lay low and quiet. Have you ever seen a dog when he knows he's been naughty? That low to the ground, no eye contact body posture? That's how we would react. Be invisible and the rage can't see you. Tools started flying out the bathroom door down the hallway and the dog was running for cover.

I don't remember much after that, but my childhood is filled with happy memories mixed with incidents of screaming rage that ended when my mother decided enough was enough, for more than the emotionally abusive reason I won't go into here now, and filed for divorce.

To this day my father loves my mother, my brother and I dearly. He royally pisses her off, though I think she may still care for him too.

I have talked to my mother about not really remembering a lot of my childhood and it used to disturb me. We moved often because we were Air Force brats and I just figured between losing friends, moving schools and being severely introverted was the reason.

Now I realize it's probably because there are a lot of painful memories I repressed. I'm not sure if I want to pursue it or not. I'll have to think about it.

It's weird and amazing the things I'm learning about myself through self help books, Prozac and writing this blog. Introspection is not something I was able to do a lot of when I was in the trenches with Ex, because I was working so hard to pretend everything was ok and that I could fix it all. I'm getting back into the swing of it. Having the kids with me every other week, though it's painful to me to miss so much of their lives, has the mixed blessing of giving me time to find myself again and relearn how to stop constantly preparing for explosions and disaster.

It's a long road.