Who needs a name anyway?



Above is my dad holding me at 10 minutes old.
This is me, however, this is most likely not an
Abby Claire Elise, yet.

Every name has a story. Whether it be a name, rich with history, passed down through generations, or a name picked at random from a baby book, no two names have the same origin. Abby Claire Elise Gostling. Thanks for the most basic first name out there Mom, at least you tried to make up for it with two middle names, right? Realistically, I doubt that was her train of thought at the time. The story behind my name is one of indecisiveness.  Honestly I don’t even know what my name was when I was first born, it got changed somewhere between three and five times on the birth certificate, and who knows how many times before it was supposed to be official.  I do know however that before I was Abby Claire Elise, I was just Claire Elise. In fact, I was never supposed to be Abby Claire Elise, instead the final decision from my mom was for it to simply be Abby Elise. However, due to more indecision or tiredness from having a newborn, the final name change didn’t go according to plan. So here I am, Abby Claire Elise Gostling.

But wait, the chaos of it all does not end there. After all the hassle of giving me something to go by rather than “baby” or “it”, my parents didn’t think that it was overly important to tell me that Claire was one of my middle names. So here I am, ten-year old Abby, wondering why my dad always jokingly calls me Claire, until finally my mom decides to let me in on the punch line.

I wouldn’t say it is because of all that craziness, but maybe that is part of the reason that I have never really felt a strong connection to my name. It is on a piece of paper, it’s helpful for communication, and I can sign important documents with it, but that’s about it. How can a name define me when many other people around the world probably have the same name? It’s the stories that count. The things that I feel have defined me since birth are my heritage, coming from an English family, and my parents, their beliefs and values. Sometimes I wish I had a more unique name, not necessarily one with a cool story, but something that felt more mine. It gets a little old hearing, “Abby,” and having to ask, “Which one?” Regardless, I got what I got and that doesn’t change who I am as a person today.

As previously mentioned, family is one of the things that does define who I am. Being a part of a family means you are a unit. This complex idea of being “two,” an individual and a unit, sometimes doesn’t work out too well, but it is a key part of how society works. It is easy to look out for yourself, get your own work done, and do things you want to do. It is not so easy to put what you want aside and take care of someone else’s needs. The most prominent experience of this in my life is through reaching out to my sister. We are polar opposites, Emma and I, me being more outgoing and social, while Emma is more reserved and introverted. However, my parents still pushed for us to do all of the same things. It was at times frustrating and hard to extend “my activities” to include my sister. But when I did, I realized how important it was to do this for her, and how much I actually enjoyed her coming along. It wasn’t supposed to be about me doing my own stuff, it was about me being a sister. This is really when I have felt like “two.” There is me as Abby going out and having and good time, and there is me as Abby a part of the Gostling family for better or for worse.

A members of a complex world. No person is ever just “one.” In fact, I highly doubt that anyone is only just “two” either. We are all “many.” There is an “us” that is unique to each different unit we belong to, family, friends, school, sports, and countless more. An individual is made up of all those different parts, and that is what makes everyone unique, no two people are ever made up of the same parts.