A whole heck of alot really!
I’ve recently made the firm decision to legally change my last name, and of course a few friends and family have come to the natural question of, why?
It’s an interesting one to tell, so I thought I would post it after doing some writing as to why I was really doing it, and this is what came out...
Excuse me as I get up on the soapbox for a short bit, or rather a little long of a bit... lol.
Please note that this is of a deep personal nature. So your support and compassion is deeply appreciated as you read this post. I thank you in advance.
Pre-written Journal Entry:
I would like to explore and explain in a cathartic way why I am going about changing my last name, and what it really means to me and what it represents.
So, today I finally took the plunge, I've been talking and thinking about it for what feels like forever, but the time has come that I declare myself and my name for what feels right, no matter what happens legally... but I will keep going through with it until all is said and done, as it is that important to me to make this change permanent and legal.
Online I have changed my online presence to reflect the way in which I feel I truly am. Melissa April Batoon. I am declaring what it is - or rather who it is I am, and it feels good.
Being a child of a father who was a deadbeat "dad" if you could call him that. I think of him more as a sperm donor at this point. I mean sure we are connected - physically with the body and genes we share, we are bonded karmically and energetically, but in this lifetime, I have not had a relationship or even an acquaintance type of relationship - so I have never felt attached or truly associated to my last name, which is his name.
I grew up with my Mom being both my father and my mother. And I wouldn't have asked for it any other way, especially as I have learned more about who he was and what he was like. So, ultimately I know it is a blessing in disguise for him not being a part of my life, and I have come to terms with that after years of seeking and wanting something different.
I have had no contact with his side of the family. Just really my Great Uncle and Aunt.
Okay, so I can't say completely that I have had "no contact" with them, but after 33 years of life, the amount of contact I have had is little to none, and I have never met the man himself.
For years I pined in hopes that he would think of me, reach out to me, and want to know me... as how does someone have a child after years of trying for one, to only walk away and give it up.. for years I didn't understand, and for years I longed for that strong father figure that I saw other girls have with their Daddies.
I would see girls on the shoulders of their strong fathers and weep for what I knew I would never have. And I felt unwanted.
It wasn't until I grew up and got pieces of information here and there that I would learn, or at least come to a picture of, what this man was like.
My, what I called Aunt and Uncle - who were really his Aunt and Uncle, would tell me that I was better off not have had him in my life. And it left me confused. But before that, he had reached out, just once as far as I know, and he had spelled my name wrong.
Crushed.
Now, I could understand if I had a difficult name, but my name is Melissa. You can find it on any license plate keychain in any gas station. Not a difficult task after waiting 13 years to write your daughter...
And I will never forget the day I went out to the mailbox in the house I grew up in and saw my name on the envelope and his name on the return label.. . I don't remember if there was a return address.. I can't recall. But all I do remember is the way my heart sank when I read the message, the way my legs gave out from underneath me as I tried to reconcile that this man who I had written off as had never wanted me, was reaching out for the first time... I was, confused.
And when I finally got up the nerve to read the letter it seemed all he had was excuses as to why he wasn't in my life, and rants as to how my Mom must have turned me against him... which I distinctly remember thinking A) that wasn't the case, and B) it's not a hard thing when you haven't been there and never attempted a relationship.
There were some pictures included, and I couldn't make out the man in the pictures, as all I had in my mind were pictures that I had come across from their wedding days. He looked older, unrecognizable, misshapen and a stranger. I didn't know what I thought of this man in these pictures, I didn't feel how he was connected to me, and after his letter I was fueled... fueled by a reignited anger of pain that I hadn't dealt with for a long time. It was all a new blaze.
I did write a response to him, but I'm thinking I never mailed it. I'm honestly not sure as it all seems like a cloudy dream now.
But what I do know, and what I've felt for a looooong long time now, is that this man, this person was no father of mine. And I ultimately didn't want anything to do with him. I knew my Mom loved me, my Mom took amazing care of me, and that was all I needed. I would be fine. Or so I thought.
Eventually time passed, and somehow the cycle to relook at this all came back around. And I had to relook at how I felt about it all. And then, that's when the glass ceiling caved in, and at the age of 21 my Mom finally told me the truth of how he had left and what he had tried to do.
My Mom and him had been married for about 5 years, and had been trying for a child, they had had a previous child that didn't come to term and I was their second attempt to building their family.
And my "father" was one of those men, that thought he wanted one thing, but as the reality set in of a baby growing in my Mom's belly... be became more frightened of the responsibility it would mean... and so he partied.
He was always a partier according to my Mom, very charismatic and a flirt. He had the motorcycle, the drums and the cool demeanor.
But there was something he felt bad about ... he wasn't the bread winner. My Mom was. And he came to realize that he didn't want a child any more. So he devised a plan.
A plan that he tried to carry out, but thankfully my Mom knew was coming... and we prepared... together.
I was in the womb, but that feeling of fight or flight was one that I have carried with me throughout my life, and I think it all stems from the time I spent in my Mom's womb as she prepared to fight back.
One night my Mom was at my Aunt and Uncle's house, as I called them, and my father had come over, so they hid my Mom so he wouldn't see her.
He came in to talk to my Uncle ... and my Mom overheard about how angry he was. That the divorce was going through and he was mad at my Mom. He had the idea that my Mom had been cashing his checks... but my Mom had no need to do so, as she had her own money. But that’s when she overheard his plans to harm us.. me and my Mom as I was still in the womb 7 months old.
Ultimately it all came down to the money.
My father didn't want to pay child support, he swore to my Mom he would never pay.. and she was fine with that, all she wanted was for us to be safe and left alone.
So one night as my Mom and I were home upstairs getting ready for what I think was bed, his car pulled up to the house and inside the car was the woman he had been seeing.
He came charging into the house and stormed up the stairs.
They had a fight over the checks he hadn't been receiving and it escalated.
He was drunk.. and I would like to think he didn't fully know what he was doing.. but since my Mom had overheard his plan... I know it was a premeditated idea he had thought of carrying out.. and he tried.
But my Mom was ready and she caught the phone cord before he could completely wrap it around my Mom's neck, and she was sure to stay away from the stairs as his plan had been to push us down... in hopes of only what I can think is to get rid of me and perhaps my Mom at that same time.
But, my Mom is a fighter, a stubborn bull of a little Asian woman! I mean really!! I come from a long line of strong, hard headed women who will make a stand, so a stand is what my Mom did and saved us in the process that night.
This was the realization I had as I became of age at 21, to learn just how much my Father didn't want me... because he didn't want to have to pay child support or the responsibility.
It's a sobering realization to say the least, but it's my history and the truth of how much he didn't want to have to deal with it all, with me. So, in changing my last name, it is my way of disassociating with him. It is my way to cut the ties, to break the cord that has tied me every time I have to say his name or spell it out.
Changing my last name is me taking my power back from a man whose only contribution was to donate his genes and to give us a reason to fight.
And now my life has been all about working to find forgiveness, to find a way to put down the fight and to reclaim the energy suck that it has been my whole life. And it starts today as I work to claim my life my own, and to be strong as so many of the woman on my Mom's side have had to be. I am standing firm and breaking the cycle ... that is my hope. And that is my mission with this change.
It's been long overdue, but it's sweet just the same.
I have never been and never will be my father's daughter. I am my Mother's daughter and my mother's family's descendant. I am strong, I stand solid in my decision. And I know it is the beginning of me being able to forgive and let go of that line of family energetically.
My name is Melissa April Batoon (pronounced buh-toe-own)
And I am calm. I am in peace for it. Thank you.
This is really just a part of a much larger story, naturally, but I am hoping that by sharing this, it encourages other women, young and wiser women, young men and mature men alike, that they too can make a declaration for what their life means no matter what label was written when you were born or at any other time in your life.
Thank you for listening.
Enter deep bow of gratitude.
