My name.
My name used to be O.
I was proud of it. I was determined that I would carry it on. I would most likely not change my name when I got married. My eldest brother is autistic. As amazing as he is, it's likely he won't have his own family, and I felt duty as the "oldest child" (whom I've always acted and been treated as) to carry on the name. I'm old fashioned, what can I say :)
O is my father's name. His father's name. My dad is ... my dad. He is smart and independent, two characteristics I pride myself on. He runs his own self-employed businesses; has done so for over 25 years. He's kind of a hypochondriac. ...I don't need to expose his faults. But this part of him has always made excuses to avoid physical pain and work acceptable among us children.
E is my (now ex-) husband's name. Matthew keeping E as his last name is a statement. He has, for his own strong reasons, retained his estranged mother's name, having a different name than his brothers and adopted father. I don't feel the need now to share my own theories on this. When we married, I told him that (in my absolute love for him) I intended to take his name. Somewhere during our engagement (such as it was), I decided I would. We hadn't discussed this and (I don't want to wrongly name feelings, but) it seemed he was astounded, astonished, and gratified by my intentions.
I became Jessica E. I redid my signature, my social security card, my driver's license. My CNA certification was given me with the name Jessica C E.
When we divorced -- when I divorced him, the idea of changing my name was to the least, exhausting, terrifying, and heartbreaking.
We did the papers and I signed on the line where it said I would return to my maiden name of Jessica C O.
At this point, I was in the process of joining the military, and already had so many complications with enlisting already, including: my marriage to a (at that time active) soldier, past drug charges (talk about a hassle) and simultaneous divorce, my packet was already three times as thick as the average trainee's. I decided to hold off on changing my name until I had the time and presence of mind to deal with the hassle.
So I went to basic training with the name E.
It was a trip, at first, seeing a nametape emblazoned with "E". I had washed many a pair of ACUs with the same label, ripping off the the Velcro nametape, in the past two years. I had been a different person then, with different life, with a different future, standing in an apartment or a laundromat, considering that name.
Now, I was E. My drill sergeants and my battle buddies called me E. Someone hollered anything remotely related to those syllables and I jumped.
During my Red Phase PT test, when my knees snap-crackle-pop-burned with pain, I was jogging, forcing myself to slam one foot ahead of the other at a rate faster than walking. I came to one of the last intersections before the finish line. I knew I was near, ever so near, the end. I wanted to stop. I wanted to slow down. I wanted to quit. From deep inside me, the thought burgeoned: Es don't quit. Matthew never quit. He was in constant pain form his feet being abused as an Army gunner in a turret for a year, and the pain didn't stop when the mission did. I had encouraged and loved him as much as I could, but I realized in that moment that I didn't understand what I wanted him to do, by motivating him to do his best. You can burn through the pain. Es don't quit. Your body is a machine. You control it; it doesn't control you. I ran. I didn't stop. I thought; I thought thoughts that should have stopped me physically as well as emotionally. But I kept running.
That moment, and going through nine weeks of basic training being called "E" by battle buddies and drill sergeants alike, solidified the omneity that I am E.
That is my goddamn name, and I have goddamn earned it. It represents the maddening love I once felt for another human, the love that was so strong that I would do or undo everything for. It reminds me of the pain I went through and the strength it took to leave that person. And it represents the incredible woman I became through basic training (round one). I am strong, I am determined, I am disciplined. I am a goddamn soldier. Well, near enough, anyway. And I am Private E.
My name used to be O.
I was proud of it. I was determined that I would carry it on. I would most likely not change my name when I got married. My eldest brother is autistic. As amazing as he is, it's likely he won't have his own family, and I felt duty as the "oldest child" (whom I've always acted and been treated as) to carry on the name. I'm old fashioned, what can I say :)
O is my father's name. His father's name. My dad is ... my dad. He is smart and independent, two characteristics I pride myself on. He runs his own self-employed businesses; has done so for over 25 years. He's kind of a hypochondriac. ...I don't need to expose his faults. But this part of him has always made excuses to avoid physical pain and work acceptable among us children.
E is my (now ex-) husband's name. Matthew keeping E as his last name is a statement. He has, for his own strong reasons, retained his estranged mother's name, having a different name than his brothers and adopted father. I don't feel the need now to share my own theories on this. When we married, I told him that (in my absolute love for him) I intended to take his name. Somewhere during our engagement (such as it was), I decided I would. We hadn't discussed this and (I don't want to wrongly name feelings, but) it seemed he was astounded, astonished, and gratified by my intentions.
I became Jessica E. I redid my signature, my social security card, my driver's license. My CNA certification was given me with the name Jessica C E.
When we divorced -- when I divorced him, the idea of changing my name was to the least, exhausting, terrifying, and heartbreaking.
We did the papers and I signed on the line where it said I would return to my maiden name of Jessica C O.
At this point, I was in the process of joining the military, and already had so many complications with enlisting already, including: my marriage to a (at that time active) soldier, past drug charges (talk about a hassle) and simultaneous divorce, my packet was already three times as thick as the average trainee's. I decided to hold off on changing my name until I had the time and presence of mind to deal with the hassle.
So I went to basic training with the name E.
It was a trip, at first, seeing a nametape emblazoned with "E". I had washed many a pair of ACUs with the same label, ripping off the the Velcro nametape, in the past two years. I had been a different person then, with different life, with a different future, standing in an apartment or a laundromat, considering that name.
Now, I was E. My drill sergeants and my battle buddies called me E. Someone hollered anything remotely related to those syllables and I jumped.
During my Red Phase PT test, when my knees snap-crackle-pop-burned with pain, I was jogging, forcing myself to slam one foot ahead of the other at a rate faster than walking. I came to one of the last intersections before the finish line. I knew I was near, ever so near, the end. I wanted to stop. I wanted to slow down. I wanted to quit. From deep inside me, the thought burgeoned: Es don't quit. Matthew never quit. He was in constant pain form his feet being abused as an Army gunner in a turret for a year, and the pain didn't stop when the mission did. I had encouraged and loved him as much as I could, but I realized in that moment that I didn't understand what I wanted him to do, by motivating him to do his best. You can burn through the pain. Es don't quit. Your body is a machine. You control it; it doesn't control you. I ran. I didn't stop. I thought; I thought thoughts that should have stopped me physically as well as emotionally. But I kept running.
That moment, and going through nine weeks of basic training being called "E" by battle buddies and drill sergeants alike, solidified the omneity that I am E.
That is my goddamn name, and I have goddamn earned it. It represents the maddening love I once felt for another human, the love that was so strong that I would do or undo everything for. It reminds me of the pain I went through and the strength it took to leave that person. And it represents the incredible woman I became through basic training (round one). I am strong, I am determined, I am disciplined. I am a goddamn soldier. Well, near enough, anyway. And I am Private E.
I feel like a horrible cousin. I didn't know any of this. We need to catch up. This was really very awesome.
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