This entry was posted on Mon, April 13th, 2009. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Can you pass over pain to resurrect your happiness?

Posted: April 13, 2009
|
Author: Daniella
|
Filed under: Ask the Single Parent
|
Tags: divorce, parenting, passover, religion

I'm on this side of the name game: I've often wondered why my ex kept my name after our divorce? We did not have kids. She was the one that wanted the divorce. She left me, why leave with my name? Strange...she left the dress, but ran off with my name! I was actually in shock when I found out. Even more shady is the fact that I found her on facebook, using JUST her maiden name... So what is in a name when you get married and divorced? Daniella explores the name game, and as she has in all of her previous posts, hits the mark (no pun intended) with a story that is on the other side of the name game.

We stood under the Chuppa enveloped by June’s Summer Sun and deep-red luscious bloomed roses. My parents and best friend stood to my right and his parents and brother on his left. We wrote and read our vows aloud yet with my hands in his I looked directly into his Father’s eyes letting him know how proud I was to take their name, for him, for me, the future of our combined families and his son, my husband.

I think I’m pretty much a modern woman yet I hold traditions close. Many of my friends hyphenated their names or didn’t take their husband’s name at all. I was overjoyed to share my husband’s name and I was looking forward to honoring him by accepting it. Wow, marriage - the next chapter of my life , exhilarating! But it wasn’t until I stood at the Social Security office that the overwhelming feeling of discomfort came fast and hard; was I losing my identity? What’s in a name? For 30 straight years my name, in part, defined me. I liked my name, it was a part of me and part of me was my name. To this day a handful of close friends refer to me with the nickname they’d given me in our younger years due to my last name. Furthermore, my Dad and I share the same nickname.

My married name is cute, common but cute. However, in no way is it me, anymore! Was it ever? My ex-husband and I split before our daughter was a year old; I knew then I would never change my name because I shared it with her, I knew then I would do everything in my power to make living a divorced life a bit less confusing for her. I knew, even then, everything I would do for the rest of my life would be in the best interest of my daughter even if it were at my expense… 5 years post divorce I want nothing more than to legally regain my G-d given name, for me!

Petitioner; respondent; retainer; lawyers; mediation; no fault divorce; dissolution of marriage; dissomaster; joint property; equitable distribution; alimony; broken home; single parent; single full time working mother/father; divorced family; children of divorce; child support; custodial parent; visitation; physical custody; legal custody; revised will, my night, your night, and they all amount to the ultimate ugly: Marital Termination. Words I never associated with until I was 34 and some of those words have become the norm in my young child’s vocabulary. I really, really hate “divorce”. I really loathe my married last name. And a pain worst than death are the tears my daughter sheds but cannot process and it’s all due to the demise of my marriage and the birth of our divorce.

(Writing has been difficult over the last few weeks. It’s as if something tangible is blocking my heart, my voice, and me. I know many of you are enduring or have endured a far worse divorce than mine and while I firmly believe that pain is pain (no one’s pain hurts less than another’s), I don’t judge your pain so I can’t quite put my finger on why I judge and/or discount my own. And hence my block, perhaps, isn’t tangible at all but audible; simply listening to the sound of my voice, lately, is deafening!)

For the first time my daughter read the 5 questions at our Seder tonight. And as she read the last sentence she reached for my hand (quite a steppingstone for my little beauty, quite a bittersweet moment for me). But, I was reminded, once again that the mere touch of her hand gives me more pleasure than divorce could ever take away. As we celebrate Passover and Easter may we remind ourselves that we are no one’s slave, not even our own. We must implore one another to resurrect our own happiness for it is truly there for our taking!

Always
Daniella (insert maiden name here…12 years and counting)!