When I was born, my Mom and birth Father named me Cheryl. Growing up I was always called that , actually my Mom called me Cher. At some point as I was growing up my Mom shared with me that my first name had actually been the name of my birth Father's girlfriend ( I know, real nice!). Since I have never met him(my birth Father), I cannot verify that story, but I can tell you that it put a bad taste in my mouth about my name as I grew up. I did not want some crummy hand me down name from someone I did not know, and I also did not like the back story that went along with it.
My middle name was Ragen, this was also my (my Mom's Dad)Granddaddy's middle name who I loved and admired very much. Granddaddy was the dad I never had. I am certain that I have mentioned this before, but he was a wonderful kind man. Everyone that knew him loved and admired him. He was kind and gentle and I always knew he cared very deeply for me. Sharing his name was an honor. As I got older I decided that I would use my middle name instead and that is what I did. At about the age of 18, I started using Ragen instead of Cheryl when applying for jobs or introducing myself. A few years ago I had my name legally changed so that my first name was Ragen and my middle name was my Mom's maiden name. I wanted to have the name that I had identified with most of my life. I used to tell Mark that I was worried that someday I would be in a nursing home and someone would call me Cheryl and I would go ballistic!
Yesterday an envelope was delivered to us from Federal Express. In it were three envelopes and our names were on each, it was not a handwriting that we knew and I assumed it was the new wife's handwriting. Aly's name was spelled wrong on her envelope, there was an envelope for Avery and on the envelope for Mark and I, it read Mark and Cher. That put me right over the edge. I kept trying to get myself to focus on the fact that my Dad, who is fighting for his life had taken the time to think of us at Christmas, and I knew that alone, he never would have been able to send these out. However, the only thing I kept coming back to, was the fact that this woman was writing the name that my Mom had called me. How dare she!
In the bigger picture it was probably something innocent like my Dad telling her what to write, but I do not care I just know that it felt like another punch in the stomach. It feels (and is) like he just does not understand that this woman is not accepted or wanted and she has NO right in my mind to call me what only my Mom could call me, no matter what the circumstances were. I feel like a little girl not getting her way, I am on the verge of a temper tantrum and have no idea how to settle myself down. I am so hurt and so sad and so confused that there is no consoling my soul right now. I am fighting an inner turmoil that only I can fight. There is no one else that will get this feeling and there is no one else that can fix this feeling. I just want everything to go back to the way it was! In someways, I just want a "do over" with my Mom. I want these little things to stop bugging me so much. If I do not snap out of it, this whole situation with my Dad will eat me alive!
So, here we are on the other side of Christmas. Looking towards a new year and a new beginning. Who knows what is ahead for my family and me? Only, time will tell, I do know one thing for sure, I will continue to pursue my quest of perfect motherhood and I will work diligently to move through this difficult time, so that I can come out on the other side a better person. My kids and husband deserve that!
Today's photo is a picture of me at about 1 year old with my Granddaddy
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