I have a story to tell you….

I have always have a problem with my name. Patricia I think does not fit me. I always thought but who is this Patricia feeling so far away from this name, as if it was not meant for me. This was on and off, depending on the moment I was in my life, reassured by other factors, or deeply questioning and doubting. I even made an attempt – through the mistake of pronunciation of the darling little boy Hadrien I have baptized – to change my name and suddenly i was myself debaptised and called Pisa. It procured me with a good feeling. I knew it was fitting me better. I felt the name.

Now let me tell you the story within the story. Some years ago, I became acquainted with Psychogenealogy and was reading and reading and reading. I remember one of the first books I read was the one of Alejandro Jodorowsky. He is the one who got me so intensely interested in the links between the family, the stories, the genes, the traumas…still now when I don’t understand something I immediately deep down into those books, and search this way, the genealogy way…

anyhow, so I was reading the book of Jodo, and as he was explaining that some families give the name of dead children to new coming babies, in order to bring them back? to honor them? I don’t remember this. anyhow, suddenly I realized that this is why I don’t like my name. Suddenly I had this impression of getting deep into some secret stories that I was not told but which became so obvious that I needed to investigate. And you know what? yes there had been a baby, the first child of the sister of my father, who died only a few months after she was born some years before me. Noone had told me this. I had to read a book, and find within myself the answer. In some very strange way, I knew this all the time! So there was another patricia, and I was supposed, I am still supposed, to live for her? instead of her? her life?

This I know is a very strange story. But this I know happens all the time. When you are born, intentions, expectations, realizations, all of this comes in the mind of your parents, all this can be hidden, not said, not told, but one day, it will perspire!


1 Comment

  1. My mother felt every child deserved their
    own name. When my brother was born many
    family member said he should be a jr. She and my dad quickly vetoed. Consequently none of my siblings were named jr.
    We have been happy not to be confused wit who the family was speaking to.

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