My Forever Name

My name is Bliss Crystal. Tait is my biological fathers last name. A safe pen name for my writings. Period. I haven’t decided on a last name yet because I can’t decide.

I have a few options already in front of me, like anyone would if they had to sit down and decide who they wanted to be identified with. I’m not really feeling any of these last names. Don’t get me wrong. These are good, solid, last names but for somebody else. Besides, I’ve already tried all of them on but legally I’m forced to wear the last and most recent one, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

I was born to an umarried, indigenous couple who were not together as my biological father was currently serving time in jail. As a result, my biological mother turned to the bottle and drugs not even slowing down the party life while pregnant with me. So I was told my whole childhood.

The mother left the hospital shortly after to go back to her boozing, single and afraid I imagined, making excuses for her eventually while making me an orphan with parents. I was given my first, first name of a nurses choice, after a crystal vase in the corner of the room. Crystal and the mothers last name apparently. I was luckier then my sister, who’s middle name is the first name of a woman the nurses only guessed was the mother. Instead it was found out to be the completely wrong person and the nurses embarrassment for lack of due dilagence.

After short two or three years I was picked up and taken to the first of many foster and group homes, including the “forever home that got away”. A lovely couple who changed their minds after finding out their real kid was on its way.

The abuse seemed to double in severity with each move, including the lack of use of my name when addressing me.

At 7 years old, June 1986, I finally met my heros. My adopted new mom and dad. His birthday was on the same day mine was! They took me out of hell along with two other children I had barely known. They would end up to actually be my real paternal sister and brother whom were separated from myself but together as I was already in care when they were born. We were very lucky to have been allowed to all be adopted together, especially at my age.

This family had already had a Crystal and they couldn’t decide if I should be called Crystal number 2 or Crystal Jr.

Crystal was the 16 year old daughter and only child of my new dad and his late wife. She wanted to change her name instead of having my name changed, but after living in a small town her whole life, that wasn’t the wisest choice the new parents agreed.

Besides, no one knew me here and the mother had never had children of her own as she was barren. So she’s never had a chance to name a baby.

My middle name plus some little tweaks to the spelling and pronounciation was my now first name. My last name was no longer that of my birth mothers but the new adopted family’s last name but to keep something recognizable in my name, Crystal became my middle name, replacing the one I’d known my entire life and discarding it along with the last name. My opinion was never asked for. I was just suppose to “go with the flow”.

I recall it was a long time before I realized people were speaking to me by way of my new name, but it wasn’t as difficult as transition as one would think. Not at that time anyway. Little did I know that it was paving the way for a the serious identity crisis I face today.

Life went on when the first tragedy in my life happened. Well, the first since the adoption. I moved out at an early age, after my adopted dad who was the glue of our patchwork quilt family, died suddenly but not unforeseen.

I met the biological family after my dad died and it’s only coincidental that my biological father passed away on the same day my adopted dad did but 6 years later. Both on the day of my baby daddy’s birthday. Yeah I know. Weird.

I had forgiven him and grew to love him in a short time beforehand. This I’m glad of.

I had three kids of my own, each wear a double last name because of my own inability to decide which name they should have, being an unwed mother, with the father of my daughter being different then the father of my youngest two. Plus the last name of my adopted father and hero was very hard to pass over, even though the new found love of my biological father had me feeling guilty for my ultimate choice. So did my original last name.

Then there was my childrens father. Too many last names to think about. What a stressful mess. But I eventually figured it out. My oldest got my first, last name of the birth mother. ( I think to keep history of my heritage or whatever in the family was my thinking) and my adopted last name I’m a double hyphenated name Verbally only. When my son was born he got my adopted last name and his dads in hyphenated form but goes by just his dads last name today. Verbally only. Legally he’s still the double one. Same thing for my youngest.

All three of my children were given first names that had no significance to any member of any family. These names were their very own brand new names. Well, my oldest was named after hearing a little girls real name on a dinosaur movie, but I made sure to spell it differently. Their middle names? After family members, but variables added to them to make them longer.

The next 20 years I went back to using Crystal but stayed with my recent last name. I got married on October 26th 2016 but split about 4 hours later after his infidel side showed up while we were still inside the same building AND time frame we got married. It’s actually more common then to you think I found out later much to my humiliation and disgusr but that’s for another story down the road.

I didn’t make a single attempt to have my hero’s last name and my adopted maiden name I completely love, changed to follow Mrs.

This new and unwanted title however, legally changed without lifting a finger myself, too my estranged husbands last name and has become mine now. Whether I like it or not.

I’ve recently found out that my childhood was a lie. I am actually a survivor of Canada’s darkest secrets. The 60s Scoop. For those who don’t know what that is, you can look it up with Google. This too, is a story for another time. Maybe a whole book.

Who knows.

I’d have a hard time just getting past what to call the author. Myself. So maybe I’ll hold off on that.

I felt like I was lost. I still feel lost especially when signing something as half my ID is one name and the other half is the other. I’ve got a little bit of a solution for my identity crises. It took no pondering what so ever and commenced with my plan immediately.

I named myself.

Bliss Crystal

Bliss because it feels like that’s the only way I’ll ever get bliss in my life. I don’t tell people where I got the name but so suppose, with this story comes the truths about my life and myself that not very many people known about. I struggle with this thought as Im typing these words. It’s gotta come out sometime I figure.

Secretly? It’s the middle name of my baby niece of the fifth adopted child and my youngest by adoption, sister. I think I thought that it would tighten us as a family, making us more related some how for my adopted niece, by being named after an aunt, me, except she had it first and I like, 30 plus years older then her. Haha.

I hope she doesn’t mind. I’ve been going by it for 5 years already and not very many people know me as any other name where I live.

I am surprised time and time again how easy it was to transition each time into a new name. No short term effects. But I just want my own “forever name” even though it’s to late to avoid the long term effects of erasing someone’s first identity.

Crystal is just a way to keep the history of my passed close so incase something happens and then at least a crumb of who I am remains along with my new name.

I just haven’t figured out a last name yet so unfortunately my married last name remains. For now.

I am Bliss Crystal.