Release
As I’m writing this, today is the day I begin the process of legally changing my name. Names are deeply important for all of us. They carry weight and meaning, history and potential. In myth and legend, magicians choose name cloaks to disguise their true name because names hold power. In religious practices, names are given to people upon certain milestones of age or indoctrination into mysteries. Pop stars and actors choose stage names which help to further glamorize their image. Trans people often choose names to signify who they are becoming.
Names tell stories. As a trans person, I have been in the practice of choosing my own story. It is, in its way, a privilege to do so. Many people feel trapped in the narrative they were born into. Being trans isn’t easy certainly, but it does force you to grapple with the narrative of your birth and to change it to suit your authenticity. Choosing my name is a part of writing my own story. It started with a doctor’s appointment and beginning hormone therapy. Today I’m adding a new layer, a new title that marks a significant chapter beginning in my life.
Funnily enough, I am adopting this new moniker (legally, and officially, tho those who know me already use it) as we near a Full Moon. In my own practice, like the practices of so many who look to the moon and the stars to understand their journey, the Full Moon represents a time of release, shedding, and rest. The moon is on the precipice of waning towards newness, and as it shrinks in the sky, I can ponder what influences will shrink in my life.
Writing our own story is not just adding on to the narrative. It is also choosing what stays behind on the previous pages. Like a closet or a wardrobe, in order to make room for newness, we must let go of the old. Letting go of who I once was, of the story attached to my legal name, can be painful. That person kept me alive for so many years. He allowed me to walk towards the path that I’m on now, as scared as he was. He sought love and kindness and bravery at every turn, and eventually found grace for himself when he failed.
The person I was is a person I love deeply. However, I’m choosing to let him go. The practice of gratitude for what came before does not mean attachment to those things, those people, those places. There are patterns that an older version of me was stuck in and could not break free of. I hope to set those down. There are ideas of who I was that were small and shrunken and suffocating. Those, too, I will release. Most meaningfully, there was a narrative of shame, guilt, and unworthiness that clung to my name, my person, my existence. I saw myself as someone who had to scrape and suffer and earn before I could deserve anything. I choose now to release that idea and to transmute it into one of wholeness, abundance, and joy.
We’re about to enter a time of cultural gratitude, of celebration and gift giving, of community and love. There are many things we will receive over the next few weeks. I encourage you, however, to contemplate what you might like to put down as well. You can choose to be someone new at any moment. You can choose to get rid of that old mug someone you no longer talk to gave you. You can choose to stop calling yourself stupid or unfunny or lazy. You can choose to stop beating yourself up when you forget to make your bed or take your allergy meds. Hell, you can choose an entirely different name at the drop of a hat. Just like that. You’re welcome to.
If you want to experience newness, think also on what you may shed to make room for it. I’ve got a pile we can add your old baggage to. It’ll be so cozy right next to my old name. Don’t worry, they’ll take care of each other. Let’s leave them here and move forward. We’ve got this.
