This article points out something I had never considered before – how naming children after dead relatives can have certain consequences.
I was named after my two grand-mothers. My father’s mother, whom he was devoted to, had tragically died violently in an accident. My maternal grand-mother, who had been very close to my mother, I never met. My mother was Australian and I was born in Northern Ireland.
When I was young I was largely unaware of this. I just knew I hated my name. But I adapted, or thought I had. It was only in my twenties a friend alerted me to what I had been doing from childhood when she said “What’s the matter with you? I call you by name but you ignore me”. I realised I had been dealing with my hated name by screening it out of consciousness. As my second name was more tolerable I started to use that instead.
I am now retired but the habit of a lifetime remains. I still shy away…
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