Since I was a little girl my birth name bothered me. It never looked right when I'd see it on paper, to hear it made my skin crawl. I remember in grade three being "that weird kid" because I was so desperate to have another name I picked a nickname from a favorite book, the name of a unicorn character, Lightfoot. That's right, grade three and I'd rather have been teased for wanting to be named after a unicorn than actually go by my real name.
All growing up I felt like I wasn't sure who I really was, like there where these parts of me that didn't fit with other parts of me. But none of those parts seemed to fit with my name. I saw more and more around me how a persons name fits them, suits them. We all know people like this, where the name Samantha, or Nicole, or Chris, there are certain characteristics that are regularly seen in each one. I just didn't fit the name Cheryl. I couldn't even tell you what it was about the name that I didn't fit, it just wasn't ME.
By the time I was twelve I had a solid nickname among my friends, Colt. I tried to get others to use it, but it didn't fly, and only earned me more ridicule at school. But at least something was sticking for awhile, and it did until graduation. Heck, even having a few friends call me Chex was better! In my early adult years I was more known as Cowgirl to acquaintances, spending a lot of time in bars where I didn't know a lot of people well and didn't want to give them my name. Being that in my town very few where country folk my jeans and cowboy hat would stand out so Cowgirl was easy enough, and people just knew me by it.
As I matured and grew I found who I am, how my pieces fit together, and who I want to be as I age further. Through Yahweh I know my place as his daughter and his creation. I am finally happy with the person Yah made me and able to shuck off the experiences of my past to flourish. Yet still, this name I was born with didn't fit. As I was growing better to myself the name was rubbing me wrong even more, irritating me, making the hair on the back of my neck raise. I knew that the last piece of the puzzle would be to fix this last vestige, to fully become the woman I now was.
I was blessed, a few years before I reached a breaking point my Husband came up with a pet name for me, Niesa. I found it beautiful, unique, and like it really fit. Over the last few years it became a stage name for dance, a persona name for the SCA (a medieval re-creation group), and the name used by those around me. It grew, to the point I had numerous conversations with people later who heard my birth name and where confused, feeling that Niesa was a much better fit and that my birth name "was absurd" in relation to me! They where right, the name Niesa embodied me, it felt like me, it suited me. So my husband and I began to talk about changing it.
It was a long while as we discussed it, off and on for over a year. Talking about the pros, cons, and neutrals. The concerns with my family who wouldn't understand and not wanting to hurt feelings. It wasn't an easy decision to come to in the end but the tears and heartache where worth it.
Today I am Niesa, legally, forever. I look at my new birth certificate, my marriage certificate, my change of name certificate, and wait on my driver's licence in the mail while a piece of paper sits in my wallet. Cheryl remains on it, a token for my parents, a reminder of who I was, almost like a past life. It sits as a middle name now, but I barely see it. Legally it remains, but to me it simply doesn't.
To some people I will always be Cheryl, some of my family, and some people to used to it to be expected to change. I don't plan on ever being forceful about it or ignorant, I don't plan to ever tell people they need to change how they refer to me; but I do ask them nicely and if they don't then they don't. I know now who I really am, and all the pieces fit. I am Niesa Michelle, daughter of the Most High.
