I kept my married name after my divorce to avoid confusion while my girls were in school. I’ve always wanted my name back, but when we moved to Ohio, I found that I had to wait a year before I could file for a name change. The day came and I filed all my paperwork and received a court date for about three months later.
The appearance before the judge to answer some routine questions was uneventful, but when he said that my name change was now accepted into the records, I was overcome with surprising emotion. When I retrieved the certified copies of the order from the judge and he shook my hand, I had to choke back the tears. The relief I felt at shedding the last vestiges of my abusive past came as a shock to me. I couldn’t help grinning while tears inched down my face all the way back to the car and on the way home.
I never really liked my last name. Growing up it was the butt of several jokes, I still don’t particularly care for it, but it is my family name and I am grateful to have it back.
The value of identity is of course that so often with it comes purpose. ~Richard R. Grant