What's a Name Anyway?

Another "coming of age" tale with flawed grammar... enjoy!

 ​     Names are important.  To be identified as yourself includes being tagged with a name.  The same names are used over and over again, but a recycled name becomes original because the human it belongs to is original.  One of a kind.  The person and the name are linked to one another by default, but gain reputation with time.  So what does a person do when they are unsure of who they are?
     As a kid I always found myself justifying my name, and having to convince people that indeed my first name was for real Freddie-Leigh, but that does not mean my mother “must have really hated me” or that my parents were “disappointed I came out a girl”.  In fact, I’m almost certain that my mother loved me very much before she passed away, and the only thing even slightly disappointing about not being born a boy is the notion that people would actually suggest it as a reasonable reason for my parents naming me Freddie!  Whoa!  I got a little passionate there, but stick with me for a moment.  Imagine someone genuinely asking you if your parents were disappointed because of the way you were born, and because of that disappointment named you something as dreadful as whatever your name is.  It’s absurd!  My name is awesome.  Well, actually my name is Freddie-Leigh, but you understand.  *tries to wink casualeigh at readers*
     My name fits me in a way that I can’t quite describe without sounding proud of who I am, and in a world that tells me to pick out the things I don’t like about myself and then buy something from the store to cover it up, I don’t think it’s too terrible of an idea to be proud of the human being I was made to be.  My name and my personality are like peas and carrots at a truck stop cafe.  They go together seven days a week, and are even better with some pepper!  You know what I mean?  I like being called Freddie-Leigh, or whatever else you want to call me, and I like who Freddie-Leigh is becoming, but it hasn’t always been that way.
     So what does a person do when they are unsure of who they are?  I tried to change my name.  When I was finishing high school and moving to college, I didn’t really like myself all that much.  Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot about me that I loved, but there were small parts of my past that I wanted to leave behind and never see again.  I had a bad habit of pretending everything was okay when it obviously wasn’t, and I was hardly ever honest about what was going on in my heart.  I didn’t deal with feelings, and I probably ate too much ice cream or something.  So, the problem solver inside of me decided it’d be best to try to change my name.
     I had liked the idea of having a somewhat normal name, and maybe start being a somewhat normal person. (That doesn’t sound like me, but keep reading)  I asked people to call me Leigh in hopes that they would recognize the change that was going on inside of me as I began to grow up.  I wanted people to see the difference in who I was.  Being called Leigh also eliminates some of the explaining and justifying of my name, and cuts back on ignorant comments about visiting people in their dreams on Friday the thirteenth, but to no surprise it does not change who I am!  
     Can you believe it?  All that backstory, and the conclusion is defeat!  However, among the failure of my endeavor there is victory.  For one, there is a large population of people who call me Leigh, not that I care either way at this point, but just wanted to point that out; and two, it is one more step in figuring out who I am in this crazy thing called life.  
     There's a lot I've discovered about myself, life, and what I believe to be true since trying to change my name however long ago that was, and I don't want to bore you with anymore details, but you should at least know that I'd like you to call me Freddie-Leigh, F-L, Fleigh, Leigh, Fredward, and anything else you can come up with; or even Fred for all I care because as much importance as a name can hold, it’s nothing compared to the human that it belongs to.