Reclamation
I gave myself away a bit at a time, slid softly off my bones, inched out of my skin. If I saw what I was doing, I called it being a woman, being a wife to a certain sort of man. I missed the girl I used to be, who signed swooping J’s over and over as if every blank page was waiting for her name, as if her highest task was simply to be herself a little more beautifully. Today, I signed a final T, wrote a check, reclaimed my name. In the car, I shook with laughter, gulped air like something new. I am reclaiming laughter, or laughter is reclaiming me— a woman who loves the shape of her own ribs, who sings the heaving of her own heart.
The Prompt
Jensen is my maiden name, and I’ve been using it liberally since my divorce—even though I hadn’t yet legally returned to it. Lisa is the nickname I’ve been called since birth, but my first name is actually Elisabeth. So legally, my name is (for a few more days) Elisabeth Thomas, but I generally introduce myself as Lisa Jensen. This creates quite a bit of confusion, as you can probably imagine.
I am so excited that in a few days time, I’ll legally be a Jensen again. I didn’t know how much I wanted this until I turned the paperwork in and began cackle-crying with glee.
And so for today’s prompt, I invite you to contemplate names! Your name, the name you wish you’d been given, the most memorably regrettable name you’ve ever encountered, the name you took on in every childhood game of house, the names others call you, the name you gave your child, or the name you wanted to give your child but your meanie pants partner wouldn’t let you.
Notice the swirl of names that live inside you. Notice which ones come with big feelings attached. Which ones are tangled up with stories or sensations, color or sound. Let all of that come together into a poem as unique as you.
I look forward to reading what you share, dears!
Some Happy News
I’ve already yodeled praises of
’s Conscious Writers Collective several times here, and I recently turned on paid subscriptions in the hopes of being able to continue my participation in CWC for a full year. Thank you so much to every one of you who upgraded to a paid subscription. In addition to being incredibly helpful at a practical level, each one of those paid subscriptions feels like a big hug to me. Thanks to your support and to a mini-grant from Kentucky Foundation for Women, I was able to sign up for a full year of CWC today! I look forward to sharing much of what I learn there here with you.
The name I gave myself
*
I went to college, barely eighteen
moving away from my best friends
as we scattered like seeds all over the country
and I didn’t know anyone in the dorms.
*
So when I said my name
in a getting-to know-you exercise
and someone said, “Wow, Margaret Ann
is a REALLY long name,” I laughed
and said, “Actually, I also go by Maggie.”
*
I did not go by Maggie.
But it seemed like the kind of name
a carefree girl,
a darkness-free girl,
a drama-free girl might have.
(I was none of those things.)
So I became “Maggie” for four years.
*
My new name became beloved
because I loved the people there.
It was also a secret sorrow:
a way for me to fit in
by cutting myself out.
That’s “Karri” with a K.
Two Rs no E.
You won’t find that on a kiosk
In a souvenir shop
On vacation.
Oh the years I spent wishing to be
Carrie
Kerry
Kari
Karrie
But alas after fifty years
I have learned to love my name.
I gave up my last name at nineteen.
Only to snatch it back at twenty three.
Just to give it up again
Because that’s the way it’s done.
I would like all of my names please.
First
Middle
Maiden
Last.
They are all mine.
They are all me.