Have you ever had a realization about something in your life that was so obvious that you cannot believe you did not see it before?
This happened to me as I was preparing my coaching homework for this week. We had uncovered my “martyr” tendency in my last session 2 weeks ago. I was asked to pay attention to those times when the martyr’s voice came up, and what the voice sounds like. As it turns out, it was a combination of parental voices.
You know those voices?
They are the ones that you usually realize, maybe expressions your parents used to use, or things they used to say. I think parents of young children start to realize they have internalized the parental voice in their patterns and unconscious responses to their children. Some people who are really aware (and have perhaps been to therapy) realize this and say: oh goodness! I’m turning into my Dad! (or Mom).
When I considered where my Catholic-seeming inappropriate guilt came from, considering I was not raised Catholic, I realized that my name is Cristy. That means: follower of Christ. Oh dear. I was named after the ultimate martyr of the Catholic and Christian faith. Also named after my Mom who has a variation of that name.
Oh well. I come by the martyr complex honestly. My parents named me after all. I didn’t choose the name. I only chose to retain the behavior. To protect to privacy of the innocent, I leave it at that for now.
What is in a name? Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?
For me, as a feminist woman and someone who did not change my name in my first marriage or in my second (and final) recent marriage, I never even considered changing my name. I don’t like the tradition of treating a woman as an “owned” object – first belonging to her father and then belonging to her husband, with the label stuck on for each occasion.
Pardon me while I get out this little airplane barf bag…
Hopefully most women of my generation are past that kind of thing, right?
No offense if you didn’t like your name, and your husband’s name was more unique so you changed it. If you are a Smith or a Jones, perhaps changing the name was a good idea. I won’t judge. It’s your choice these days, after all. I have fantasized about having a name that is a symbol. I love it that Prince became “the artist formerly known as…” That is true innovation.
I want a symbol! What is a symbol for mexi-minnesotana? I’m gonna copyright it… any of you graphic artist out there want to design something for me? Maybe I’ll start a contest. I have been thinking about how to brand my site, but I digress.
My Mexican last name has become more a part of my professional trademark in the past decade. I work for a division of the company that serves patients in Latin America. Even though my pale Swedish ancestor skin hides part of my heritage, when people see my last name, they become aware of the possible Latina origin. When they hear my Spanish, they are usually confused. Good accent. Questionable grammar. Where the heck are you from?
In any case, it was a big light bulb going on to realize I don’t need “crucify myself” or taken on a savior/rescuer role my whole life. I may need to adopt a different name or at least a different voice from Mary the Martyr. She has good intentions, but I need to evolve her behavior for a bit.
The cosmic joke has not been lost on me. Now that I am aware of it, at least I can reign the martyr complex in a little more deliberately.
Happy Friday, peeps! Hope my U.S. friends have adjusted to the time change by now, and all of you, have a fabulous weekend!