RELATIONSHIPS | DIVORCE
Women Pay the Price in Divorce: Hand-Wringing, Head-Scratching Name Choices
I need feedback on the best choice.
Yes, that girl is me. I have a name. I have choices, but nothing feels quite right. Putting on jeans, with all that structure involved, is doable but do they feel as right as my bleach-stained yoga pants?
They both work, but which is preferable when neither is 100%? I crave a perfect answer, not just a quick fix like throwing on pants because someone is at the door.
Not just any name will do.
Do I go back to my maiden name?
It’s the stupid stuff that keeps me awake at night. Of course, stupidity is subjective. To me, this issue of indecisiveness is consuming more thought and space in my brain than I want.
I pride myself on swiftly taking care of business. When people question me about this behavior, my response is generally, “The cream always rises to the top.” When it’s right it’s right and I immediately take action. I like an empty Inbox.
I grapple with this one, though.
I’ve been divorced for 3 years now. My ex is remarrying in a month or so. I like his fiancée and think they will last the test of time. They seem well suited for each other. I wish them nothing but the best. Seriously.
That whole update has nothing to do with my dilemma.
Well, maybe it does have a bit to do with them. I am happy there is a new “Mrs. Braun” looming. I am SO ready to pass the torch. In fact, some very real things have transpired that I relish the rebranding of me and disassociating myself. Other than my kids, who finally understand my desire, I have no need for a continuing allegiance to the married name.
Here is the issue, sort of in a nutshell. Maybe the nutshell is shattered, scattered, and kind of a mess. It is my best attempt to explain though, I promise.
Before getting married, people invariably butchered my last name frequently enough that I became a little jaded about it. I don’t harbor any ill will, but it kind of sucks. What if I am insanely sought after, far in the future, and people can’t Google me with ease because I went back to my former name? The easy (to me) maiden name has a history of glitches.
They can’t find me if they don’t remember if my last name is spelled Gerard, and not:
Gerald Girard Girouard Gerrard
One of my first jobs had me working side by side with another Lisa. Her last name was a more French-sounding spelling of mine. Only one of us got a paycheck. They simply corrected her name of Girouard to my spelling, Gerard, and bumped her out of the system.
This is not a great way to make friends with new coworkers.
Do I stay with my married name, then?
I really don’t want to keep it.
When the divorce attorney asked me if I wanted to include that change, I simply said no. My youngest was 18 so that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that everyone was pretty jacked up that I left at all and I was too chicken to rock the boat even more.
It’s hard being vilified.
My 25 years of married life brought issues of people writing BROWN even though I would slowly spell it for them. There have been years of misfiled documents (back in the olden days of paper and oak-tag folders) and missed announcements because “Brown” would be called out in a crowded room in attempts to beckon me.
Let’s throw in one added factor that eats at me. Raising my grandson, who has a totally unrelated last name, makes it slightly problematic. I like continuity. He is neither a Braun nor a Gerard. Now what?
Whatever decision I make still leaves him out in the cold. I’d love to adopt him if the bio parents (my daughter being one of them) would sign off because then I could hyphenate his name to match mine.
But which name is mine, anyway?
My married name, Braun, or my maiden name of Gerard?
A name is a large part of our identity, isn’t it? To say I feel lost is an understatement. The answer is not glaringly obvious nor even a slight glimmer on the horizon.
When I start to lean one way, hoping to find balance, the harsh reality that I am neither name comes slamming down. Again and again.
I have graciously been tagged, recognized, or acknowledged by other writers through online platforms. The first-ever had a few names referenced for different works, and mine was the only one with a broken link.
Lisa Gerard Brown is not my name, so it went nowhere.
To add insult to injury, it was obviously not highlighted like the other writers. How am I the only one who notices that? Maybe it’s that I would be the only one to care.
Tough pill to swallow but I’ve swallowed worse.
The second and most recent was a series of kudos to roughly ten people. The writer had gone to great lengths of creativity and put time and effort into crafting individual cards of recognition. In the sea of some more challenging names, mine stuck out as the only misspelled one.
Lisa Girard Braun is not my name.
These people are kind and thoughtful. I would never consider sending them a side note to correct them. I rested on the grateful feeling that I was thought of at all. My thanks are extended to those who took their time to throw a nod my way, but I am secretly pained that no additional reads are coming based on the misspelling.
It also bums me out to think I want to change my name and don’t have an obvious choice.
People continue to misspell both.
There is the expected exorbitant fee to pay the government to consider. I can’t justify paying to change everything from my Driver’s License, Social Security, and banking unless I am sure of my selection.
- Feedback is welcomed.
- Comments are encouraged.
- Advice from others that have encountered this dilemma would be factored in accordingly.
The injustice of this problematic issue being isolated to women is another story for another day. It may even require a rant. For now, I can only address one challenge at a time.
I am tortured by this process and see my newly delivered marriage certificate copy staring at me from my kitchen counter. It was a requirement to seal the deal of a name change. I was unable to leave with it when I semi-packed my few things.
It was more important to breathe than to fight for anything that was even legally mine.
So, here I am.
But, who am I?
I can’t expect you to know if I don’t.
The irony of this dilemma is not lost on me, either. I was born Susan Michelle and so my name started out as a temporary fixture for the 6 weeks until I was adopted. My name then became Lisa Suzanne. The name game began long ago for me.
Maybe this is my fate, to never know who I am or where I fit.
My completed request, all 11 pages, sits in the online queue waiting for me to hit submit.
I am considering changing my name to Joe Smith.
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