I Changed My Last Name…Again
Societal pressures to fit in and be “normal” make me feel really awkward about doing this, but here is why I am going through the motions, and the expense, to change my last name again. I’ve only been married once by the way. This will be my 4th last name. Crazy, right?
I really wanted to belong. Be part of something, a family, be part of a unit.
I married when I was a few months shy of turning 30. I didn’t intend for it to be the case to rush to the alter in a desperate attempt to marry before hitting the big 3-0, but we’d been together for almost 5 years and it’s what your supposed to do at that age, right? I didn’t hesitate for a second to take his last name and drop the one that came from my father. He was adopted so it was never a blood line last name, and boy did I get made fun of having that name growing up. For a girl who ended up having a breast reduction, and was well ahead of my peers in chest size in high school, I was called tit-less all the freaking time; in new places, high school, college, probably grad school, and all sorts of new groups of people. Plus, my father has not been present or kind, so sure, let me take that last name, the well established one that has ties to family signing the constitution. The one that shows everyone I now belong to a someone, a family, I did it, I’m part of something.
Then, after 13 and a half years, and so much emotional abuse, lack of showing up and communicating (I’m definitely at fault for the lack of communicating myself), we divorced. The lawyer asked me if I wanted to go back to my maiden name, and I just couldn’t. Plus, I was getting established well professionally under his last name.
However, after processing what I’d been through and that although his family really did treat me so well, it wasn’t my family. There were some things around privilege and connection around that name that no longer felt good to me, so I decided to take my maternal last name. This is the name that connected me to lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins. The name my Gram had that brought the entire family together for some of my best childhood memories; Christmas Eve with tons of people crowded into my grandparents small home for pierogis and the seven fishes dinner (which I thought the entire world ate until I went to college…seriously). I messaged my family to tell them I was doing so. I might have asked if it was ok. I got mostly a warm reception for it.
The thing is, I never felt connected to or good about it. It’s my mother’s last name. The woman that told me when I was older and everyone around that would listen, I wasn’t a lovable baby. The woman who I fought to defend when my father was beating her when I was about 5. The one that never hugged me or told me I was wanted, and loved. The one who packed up everything I owned in garbage bags when I was 15, and put it on the front porch. I think she did it because I wasn’t home to shovel snow during a substantial storm. Instead, I was in a place where someone was willing to drive me to my extracurricular activity where I’d be traveling for the weekend, mostly because she complained so much and made me feel like I was a burden because of the places I needed to be. But it snowed so much that weekend, nobody went anywhere, and I was kicked out. Taken out like the trash.
But, I took that name because I had other family members that I wanted to belong to. But I chased them and worked too hard to belong to and be validated by. Sure, I’ll do anything and everything for anyone that asks if it makes me feel wanted or needed. It just hasn’t felt right or real as much as I love many of them.
And in the last couple years, I have done a ton of healing. I am transforming myself into someone who is not operating in survival mode from a childhood that sent me to Flight and Fawning constantly. I am becoming someone who is finding a home and belonging within myself and not looking for my ego to get a quick hit of validation from people I serve. I am learning to trust my intuition and not chase, to surrender and flow more alongside the hard work I’m doing to create my best life and move my professional career in a direction where I’m no longer on auto pilot. I’m finding peace amidst the chaos, for finally honoring that things have been less than ideal. I’m recognizing how me and my trauma have gotten in my way, and finding a new way to operate and exist. I absolutely was doing the best I could, but I know better now and it’s just not sustainable to exist the old way any longer.
I’m changing my last name again so it just belongs to me and nobody else. I’m doing it to celebrate and honor me. I’m changing my last name to something that feels like it’s more me and I don’t cringe almost every time I say it out loud. I’m so open to getting married and sharing my life with someone. I long for it actually, but only under the right circumstances. I don’t know what I’ll do about my last name if I do. I likely will keep this until I’m no longer on this planet. For now, I’m just over here finding joy and adventure in each day, evolving and growing, and finding peace and belonging where I should have always found it, within me.
Now, please meet, Shannon Bloom. I’m happy to be here.