What's In a Name?

So, I know we all have identity issues... Most of us are neurotic, self-absorbed, and obsessed with our image... and that's on a good day. But what do you do when you don't even know your own name?

See here's the thing: I have many many many names. No, Messiah is not one of them... Yet. I'm still working on the Mission Plan for my Cult. Anyhow... My best friend from college was recently visiting me here in D.C. where a friend from Arkansas now lives too and I realized that when a bunch of us went out, I was being called THREE different names simultaneously... and I don't mean slanders, either.

Growing up, my parents used the nickname, "Betsy" for me because it matched best with my twin's name, "Cathy." (The twin thing is a WHOLE other identity issue that most people are lucky/unfortunate enough not to deal with... moving on...) So, I was called "Betsy" until I reached Junior High and attempted to change this fact. You know when the teachers call roll on the first day and then ask what you go by? Well, I finally started answering, "Elizabeth." Of course, seeing as how I was going to Junior High with the same people who had called me "Betsy" not a summer before, my strategy didn't work... Sure, my teachers respected it, but the kids? Nope... still Betsy. Yes, I'm aware that it's a common cow name. I grew up in Arkansas, of course I know that. As do all the other Arkansans in my school... Why do you think I was so anxious to be called Elizabeth? Sigh.

Well, at some point in high school I made friends with a girl from Chicago who decided to start calling me "Liz." Cathy (not my twin) was the first openly Democratic person I had met in Arkansas and I adored her... mostly for her spirit, but renaming me certainly didn't hurt anything. By the time I went to college at the University of Missouri-Columbia, I had started to like "Liz," though in Arkansas few people actually called me that. Liz was funkier than Elizabeth, more self-assured, and way less like a cow's name than Betsy. I still always introduced myself as Elizabeth, especially in class. It was a nice back-up name to Betsy. Liz, though, became my "casual" college name and I liked the way being a "Liz" felt. I liked the people "Liz" was friends with.

But then, something else happened, something cataclysmic. All my friends who called me Liz, whom I associated with my "Liz" persona, well... to put it succinctly, they sorta sucked. A lot. And we stopped being friends. Liz now sounded like a dirty word coming from their mouths... Liz... Liz... Liz...Bleck. So here I was, an unwilling Betsy, a back-up Elizabeth, and a now-tainted Liz. I felt lost.

Eventually my names settled, as all things do... boobs, houses, men. I was renamed "Lizzy" by my best friend from Mizzou (not associated with the aforementioned "Liz" friends) and finally reowned Liz. Elizabeth finally became a name I chose, as opposed to my backup. I also became at peace with Betsy. It's not such a bad name. Really. Besides, I can't change it. I'll always be "Betsy" to my Grandpa, elementary school enemies, and to that little part of kid that's still in me. Owning these names helped me own all of the "pieces of me," to quote the great philosopher of our times Ashlee Simpson.

In the end, I'll always be "Liz" to some people, "Elizabeth" to most, "Betsy" to those I grew up with...let me clarify: ONLY TO THOSE I GREW UP WITH. And sometimes, like three Saturdays ago, I was Elizabeth, Betsy, and Liz all at one time. I guess that's sorta the point of all this exposition: we all have different personas, characteristics, "names". Well, if we're aren't cardboard cutouts of type personalities. Hopefully, we all change in our lives. I know that I have changed. But all parts of me still influence the whole. Each experience I have lived, good and bad, makes me me. I wouldn't give up my time with either my "good" or "bad" Liz-friends. That "Liz" is part of what makes me who I am now. All of these names make up both "Elizabeth" the name and the person.

Just don't call me "Beth"...