I’m Not Who I Was

I have a nickname that I’ve gone by for most of my life. It’s a variation of my name that everyone calls me, except for my parents and grandparents. Totally understandable, as the parents kind of gave me my actual name because they like it. But I never liked it growing up, so I gave myself a nickname, introduced myself as such, and was able to make it to stick. I’ve always liked my nickname. It made me feel cooler than I actually was am.

But today I was rereading my bio on a social media site for the millionth time (I frequently check everything to make sure it is absolutely current and to quadruple check grammar and spelling) and it hit me.

That’s not who I am. 

The nickname I’ve gone by for 10 years suddenly felt wrong. I don’t know why. My actual name doesn’t suddenly feel right

Perhaps it’s because I’ve been struggling a lot with the whole Who am I? What am I supposed to do with my life? Why do I hate all of my clothes? dilemma. And yes, clothes-hating totally belongs with those other big questions, since for years I’ve defined myself by what I wear. Maybe it’s just natural that my nickname suddenly doesn’t seem to fit either. 

In the meantime, I’ll just remember that I get to be Macey, and while that name might not fit the “real me,” it’s kind of fun putting on a new persona every once in a while.


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