What’s in a nickname? Well a lot of you really break it down. When I was growing up my nicknames were insults. I always looked older than I was. When I was a little kid I was expected to act more adult, because I looked about 5 years older than I was.
In the 3rd grade I was as tall as my teacher. And I even remember getting yelled at by a school bus driver and sent back home because I was too stupid to know I was on the wrong bus. That bus was for little kids, not high-schoolers.
I was 8 and was supposed to be on that bus, the driver thought I was about 16.
So getting the nickname Moose as a kid, especially a girl, was never a point of pride. It meant I was big and clumsy. I never felt like I fit in as it was, but when you dad calls you Moose, well that’s just another complex to add to the list.
So perhaps that’s why I always wanted a nickname.
In the states you rarely call anyone by their first name, you typically have a friendly shortened version for friends, a pet name for your significant other, and something weird from your family.
Let alone the cringe name, which is that delightful combination of your first and middle name hollered at loud volumes when you fucked up at home.
When I was older and in a relationship I got my first pet name – Dunjia. It was a translation for ‘tiny bunny’. I still feel mixed about it. It was a diminutive that implied weakness, not something you cherished.
I was surprised by it. I never considered myself weak or something fragile.
For the most part I have never really dated because I was always told I was too intimidating. I was too forward, too open, too bold, too ambitious…. I played in a man’s world, so being a woman was difficult.
I chose a profession dominated by men, I work with men, I negotiate against men, I hired and fired men, for all aspects professionally, I am their equal, and for that…. Well you’re not ‘dating material’.
So I didn’t date. I didn’t really care. I would rather be alone than with someone who didn’t value me.
How perplexing to get a nickname indicated a fragile tiny creature- thats…. not me, ever.
Normally I would say I don’t care and that be that, but recently a conversation struck me and it made me think back to all this.
I am still close friends with my last ex. He is a good man, and someone I respect tremendously. We have different paths and we both agreed that our lives would be separate but that did not hinder our friendship, nor should it. Two people can make that decision without animosity or resentment.
In a conversation I was discussing my future plans. Something I am actively working toward. When he said something so striking it made me stop.
Now his nickname for me was Mockingbird. He said I was a creature just trying to bring beauty and goodness to the world. He is a literary buff, so To Kill A Mockingbird was the reference.
I loved that nickname. I felt yes, that fits me.
But when I talked about moving he said that it wasn’t a good idea. Asking “who is going to watch out for you?”
This was the shameful moment I realized, he’s actually right.
I never want to be seen as weak, but the only time I actually ever relax, ever stop, is when I have someone with me. It’s like the moment I have a partner, I can let down the hyper vigilant side of me, the one always looking for who is going to attack me next.
I feel safe when I have a partner.
Now that hits hard and deep. (no pun intended)
I live in a world where I am always expecting and anticipating threats from every angle. From workplace politics to walking around the city alone, I am always aware that I am a target.
Perhaps it is from an abusive childhood, or from shitty past relationships, or maybe it’s just something I picked up over years of living alone.
But I am always scanning. Always trying to read everything around me. Taking in every detail so nothing escapes me.
I am always scanning for threats.
He was right. I don’t relax unless I have someone with me.
I don’t even relax at home. I have an alarm system even thought I live in a very safe area. I leave a podcast on when I sleep so I hear another voice.
It’s not about being lonely, it’s about being vulnerable.
What a horrible realization. I realize I am weak in a way I never expected. I now see something the rest of the world knows, but this is completely a shock to me.
I don’t know if there is an answer to fix this problem. I asked my friend if I was clingy or in some way imposing upon him when we were together. I was afraid I was somehow broaching his independence and autonomy. I hate women who do that, I always try to respect those boundaries and hold them sacred.
Luckily he answered no. Saying I never did that. But he was always mindful of me because I wasn’t mindful of myself. I was always taking care of everyone else, and sometimes I needed to be reminded that I mattered too.
So as I move into a new chapter of my life, preparing to go into my next adventure, I see that there are parts of me I need to be more mindful of.
We are all imperfect creatures. I don’t seek perfection. But if I can gain a tiny insight into myself then I can be better not only to myself but to whomever crosses my path in the future.
Maybe next time I will get an even better nickname.
One can only hope.