I have a confession. I sometimes miss my maiden name.
I haven’t had my maiden name for seventeen years, but, there are times along the way I miss being called “Speer.” When I got married, I did the old southern trick of legally dropping my original middle name and using my maiden name in its place. At the time, I did that mainly for work reasons – so many clients knew me as Pam Speer, I figured it’d make the transition easier. But, if I’m to be honest, I also did it because it wasn’t a name I wanted to let go of.
I liked that name. It was who I was, who I always had been. I was proud to have it and proud that it meant something and proud of other people that shared that same name.
The morning of my wedding, I was in the shower at the hotel and had a “moment” when I realized I was giving up my name. It was somewhere between panic and mourning, but I remember thinking, “I’ll never be Pam Speer again.”
Obviously, I got past it.
Today, while searching for a gift for someone, I stumbled across these earrings on etsy and they absolutely left me breathless.
I hadn’t seen my maiden name, aside from mail and paperwork, in years, and there was something about them that just jumped off the screen and punched me in the face. There was my name, my old name, in metal – a bullet to boot – and I knew I needed to have them.
I thought maybe I had forgotten that girl. After all, seventeen years is a long time. But, as it turns out, I remember her very well. It bothers me that I’ve let pieces of her go. I don’t wish to be her again – she had some growing to do, but I’ll be damned if I just let pieces of her sit on a shelf, dusty and worn.
So, yeah. I bought the earrings – and reclaimed a few pieces of me in the process. Reclaimed bullets, reclaimed identity. There’s something poetic in that, isn’t there?
What about you? Have you ever stumbled across something that struck the heart of the “old” you?