My mom hated my first name. Every now and then this is a story I share with people. She hated the name Christina, yet made a compromise with my dad when I was born that could be my first name. They agreed I would go by my middle name, which as everyone knows is Michelle. For years when people ask me my middle name and I say Michelle they laugh and tell me to stop joking. Only I’m not joking. I even have friends who are so used to me being Michelle they often times forget my first name is Christina.
I’m what I have dubbed people over the years as middle namers. I’m a middle namer because my mom hated the typically shortened version of Christina, which is Christy. She never thought about people calling me Chris though. I don’t know if she would have necessarily enjoyed that either. Maybe that is because I somehow got stuck with the nickname Mitchell in middle school and she didn’t quite understand that one either. The stranger part is I got called Michael by various students passing back papers my whole life too.
A name is important though. Who you are named after is equally important. I’m named after two of my amazing aunts. One of my father’s side and one on my mother’s side. I’ve been taught about how to respect family, love family, and be there for others from both of them. I’ve learned that no matter how hard life might seem one should never give up. Sometimes those lessons fall by the wayside. Sometimes a depression kicks in and it’s hard to ignore those feelings. Thus my strength falls down around me and I’m left wondering what ifs.
Instead of revealing any of those at this time, trust me they will come in the future, I’m focusing more on names. What is in a name? And now I can’t help but think of the quote a rose by any other name would smell as sweet from Romeo & Juliet. I feel like a Michelle. When I look in the mirror I don’t see a Christina. All of this has always made me wonder what my names actually mean. I’ve read that Michelle is the feminine version of Michael and started out French in origin. There is also the Hebrew meaning of my name which is close to God. The name Christina is Latin in origin and the meaning given is follower of Christ.
In a lot of ways this makes me feel like I was born to believe in something bigger than me. I’d like to believe that. Despite not being an avid church goer I still believe in a higher power and believe that person is looking after me. Whether God is a man or a woman I do not know. Though Kevin Smith taught me God is Alanis Morissette so there’s that. I also believe in a guardian angels and I have a slew of those. One of those being my mother who I have thought about a lot recently. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her and the strength she gives me. Though I feel like I haven’t been living up to that potential.
Here is where my tide turns. I’m going to write again. I’m going to make art again. I’m going to focus on me and discovering my strengths as well as understand my weaknesses. I’m going to let her be my cheerleader from above. I’m going to believe that more now than ever. I’m not going to play a victim card anymore, not that I think I really have, and believe that I don’t deserve more in life. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t deserve my dreams coming true in some format.
So what’s in a name? A lot more than I’ve been producing that’s for sure. I think there’s potential in my name that hasn’t been discovered yet and I look forward to taking this journey once more and figuring out my way in life as well as the world.
By sticking with me I can promise random book reviews, movie reviews, artwork that I love, artwork of my own, and probably more posts like this. I want to focus on what I know and what I love. If I have learned nothing else in life it’s that we need to focus on what makes us happy and spending time with those who value our time rather than trying to please everyone. I’m me. I’m complicated and complex, but I’m me. And I’m worth getting to know.