What's In A Name?

“The name you choose... it’s like... it’s like a promise you make”

 – The Doctor

            A name is possibly one of the most important aspects of something. I mean, sure, you can take the time saying “three pronged eating utensil” but why would you when “fork” is faster and easier? The same is, of course, true for people. Think about how much of your identity is defined by your name; it contains clues to your nationality, the sort of people your parents were (looking at you, people with emotions for names) and so much more.

            As many of you know, I changed my entire name at eighteen. When I was born I was named after my father, I didn't hate the name “Michael James O'Neill"  but, as the years of bullying wore on, I came to hate what it represented. For me, “Michael O'Neill"  was both a twisted old bully and a scared, twelve year old victim and so, over time, I came to realise that I needed to make a change.

            The name I chose was by no means random; Peter Marshall was my Mum’s dad. I never got to meet my Grandad Peter but, by all varied accounts, he was a good man and that was something I was (and still am) trying to be in my own way; a good man.

I asked my Mum to speak with her siblings beforehand in order to make sure no-one would think it presumptuous that I had chosen to use their dad’s name but none of them did; they seemed pleased that I had chosen to honour him in this way. My middle name, Wallace, is my uncle’s name. Uncle Wallace, for those of you who haven’t met him, is a large Scotsman who enjoys fishing, drinking whiskey and inventing creative and insulting pet names for his nieces, nephews, sisters-in-laws and just about anybody else that he comes across; he’s awesome and I love him and he’s probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual dad so his name was the right choice for me.

            I had to put up with a lot of grief, however, from people who either didn't know the extent of what Mick had done and one or two who knew but just didn't care.

The former was largely made up of O'Neill family members who do not live in the UK, they had not been around to see what Mick had done and reacted... strongly... to my decision. I got called every name under the sun, I got told that I hated my grandparents (who had already passed by the time I changed my name), I had people trying to guilt me into changing it back, it was entirely ridiculous and very distressing for me at the time. I ended up having to talk to them about what Mick had done to me; something I was nowhere near ready to do at the time. One of my cousins couldn't apologise enough for what he had said, we went out drinking together and are now much closer than we were before. Others, however, were never heard from again

...as in they didn't talk to me again...

...I didn't kill them. Honest...

Anyway...

As I said, the latter group was made up of people who knew the depths of cruelty Mick had sunk to and didn't care. These people were also “family” but felt that while the child abuse was completely okay, my name change let people know that we weren't a perfect family, full of Christian unity, and that was the real sin. Remember folks; Child abuse= okay, Telling people= Not okay. These people have run an interesting campaign which involved disowning me (not really a punishment), sending family cards with my old name on (for five years) and leaving me off the Christmas list while still sending money to my sisters.

My little sister, in elegant retaliation, made sure that she informed these relatives that the money had been split with me when thanking them for sending it. I can only imagine the glorious rancour that this tactic must have inspired and life is too short to make amends with people who support an abuser's right to abuse. True family is made with bonds of love and empathy and doesn't need something as coincidental as matching DNA to be true.

A name doesn't make a man but it can tell you who he is and who he’s trying to be. The line from “The Name of the Doctor” at the top of this ramble really rang true with me; a name is more than just words. It’s your promise, your vow, your personal way of standing up to the darkness in your past and in your heart and saying “No. You don’t control me. You don’t define me”.

I wouldn't say I've always lived up to the name I chose but all I can do is sincerely try, every day, to be that better man. I've been told that this daily struggle is what separates us from the killers, the rapists and the abusers of the world and I hope that this is true because as long as I keep working on myself, I will never be like him.

Thanks for reading.