It’s my birthday.
I was born once, 32 years ago, and I’d like to say both my parents failed to attend (bc that’s funnier) but I guess mom had to be there. He was not, ofc. But he did name me…I really wanna tell you what it was but I can’t. I had it too long and you’ll google/facebook search me bc you’re human and you have to. I get that. So I can’t say the name but I can say it was terrible. A joke actually. He didn’t stick around long enough to tell me the punchline so the whole thing was meaningless to me. I hated it.
I was teased mercilessly in school for it.
It literally meant nothing.
I was nothing.
18 months ago I hit a major turning point in my life. During this event (to be documented here at another time) I was in Tennessee visiting my sister. When I finally made it home my amazing Hub called me Bella. And said, with much certainty, “That’s your real name.”
And I knew it was true.
I accepted it as is, personally. Who wants to go through the time, trouble, and cash to legally change a name when it really only counts in your heart?
Hub, that’s who.
Did it all on his own, too, the spunky thing. If he’s on a mission folks just get out of the way and let him work…
Today I stood before a judge and made it official. I even got a certificate which I immediately adopted as my birth certificate. This is me. The real me.
Names matter. They just do. People are always saying shit is important…bees, debates, the ozone…but the little things are overlooked in our culture I think.
Live on purpose. Think. Go slow.
Like the guy that rides your ass in traffic on the way home from work, ignore the asshole. (The asshole metaphor referring to pointless stress the world tries to press on you…get me?)
But I digress…I was born today. Tomorrow I can use this as an excuse for saying something stupid! And I will say something stupid. You’ll see.
The judge asks you why you want to change your name when you stand up there petitioning. I told her my parents were addicts and my name was a joke between them. I am not a joke, I said. And when she saw I couldn’t speak, she spoke for me…
“A fresh start then. You are remaking yourself?”
I nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
And she signed the paper.
Thus, I was born. The love and dedication of my husband plus the kindness of a random judge on a Tuesday. That’s my new birth story. Hub took pictures but…nope. Use your imagination.
It was a great day. We had the kiddos with us because we didn’t know if we’d be home in time for their bus to arrive. They were angels considering all we did today was wait, walk to another room and wait, wait some more, drive, wait…
But it was still a great day.
I finally beat that one boss in hearthstone, too.
That girl that accidentally happened to those messed up ppl 32 years ago is dead. Dead. I’ll never forget her or the things she taught me but…you will never see her again.
What you see here is the real me. Some of it anyway…humans are so beautifully complex.
Happy birthday, me.