Name and shame
Family names have been something I’ve poured over for years.
When my sister announced she was pregnant in 2020, I went through a deep spiral about what her baby would call me.
I got really down about it. I immediately went into that shame nook where I wished things were easier and that I didn’t have to ask people to expand their labels so I could fit into the family.
That shame nook is something I’ve made a home in for a long time. I’d go as far as saying it’s my comfort zone. And all it takes is one question like ‘what will my child call me’ and I’m curled up in there thinking about how there’ll never be a card in a shop that will have my parent name on it for my child to choose.
Writing this now, I can see how absolutely ridiculous that is. I’d prefer a handmade card anyway!! I’ve recently realised that shame is my default, and it’s always something I have to work through (or actively ignore) to get to joy.
This realisation has come with the arrival of my little one. Because joy is at the forefront, in the little moments I’m able to bypass the shame. And I’ve started to learn that self-hatred doesn’t always have to be part of the routine.
I’ll detail in another post about why I have chosen these names, but my nephew calls me Gar (short for Garfield/Garfunkel) and my child calls me Dee or Dee Dee. Well, he will one day when he’s able to speak.
It’s very special to me and I love both titles so much. I am honoured to be someone to them. All that anguish before their arrival was redundant, so the focus moving forward is to get out of the nook and start from somewhere new.