What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet

I have always loved my given name. It is so beautiful, so complete. I dislike the fact that I never went by it.

I don’t like my nickname.

I tried to go by my given name when I was a teenager. I told the temporary staffing office my given name and I succeeded for three weeks as a receptionist before I forgot and answered the phone with my nickname. In despair, I gave up. I decided I could never remember to refer to myself by my name — the nickname was so ingrained in me.

When we moved to Australia last year, I told my husband, again, that I’ve always wanted to go by my given name. He told me, again, that I should go by it then. Why not? With him as my support system, I have. For the past year, I have been “Rebecca” to everyone I meet. And I love it.

• Rebecca is an adult.
• Rebecca is a wife.
• Rebecca is a mother.
• Rebecca is an active, participating member of a ward.
• Rebecca cooks dinner for her family.
• Rebecca feels competent with her everyday responsibilities.

Whenever someone calls me “Becky,” I think of pigtails. I imagine my buck teeth. I feel insecure again.

• Becky is a little girl.
• Becky reads The Babysitters Club.
• Becky is afraid of the stove and cries at the thought of cooking.
• Becky sits by herself, secretly wondering why no one is her friend.

Now, whenever I do something dumb, I hear myself say in my head, “That was dumb, Becky.” Every other time, I refer to myself, in my thoughts, as Rebecca. I love being Rebecca. I finally feel like me.

At some point in the coming month (still no departure date), I’ll leave all the people who know me as Rebecca. I’m returning to a place where everyone calls me Becky. I am very sad to leave my identity here in Australia. I’ll never feel like myself again, completely.

I know, I can continue clarifying my name for everyone I re-meet for the rest of my life. But some people have already made it clear to me that they don’t intend to even try to remember that I’m Rebecca now.

Sigh. I love my name. Why can’t anyone else remember what it actually is?

Note: If someone you know signs their name in a particular way or calls themselves by a particular name, why wouldn’t you refer to them that way? I just don’t get it.

ETA: To all reading this post, please understand that I don’t mean to offend anyone! My purpose in writing this post was to show that there is something I’ll miss when I return to the USA from Australia, going by Rebecca, and that when I return to the USA, I will be fighting to be Rebecca instead of Rebecca-by-default. I sorry if that offends you; offense was not intended.