
On April 12th (2013) I changed my name. Well, it wasn't that simple. I should clarify that after months of standing in line, filing paperwork, making phone calls, navigating the halls of a very large government building, waiting, parking, filing more paper work, one long morning in court and a conversation with a very nice judge, my name change was finalized. It was official. I was staring at a legally stamped and sealed document that verified that I had, in fact, become Aerin Leigh-Amann. And that randomly chosen date, April 12th, that just happened to coincide with the start date of the American Civil War, was NOT a harbinger of trouble. My husband looked over my shoulder and approved. As a matter of fact, he will proudly tell you that he paid for the whole thing. He bought me my new name. From the very beginning, he insisted on paying all of the exorbitant fees attached to the process, as well as supporting me (and double checking the fine print) every step of the way. His gift was a reflection of the fact that no one knew better than him the pain that I had suffered in the shadows of my former name and it meant the world to me that he was so incredibly supportive of my new beginning. Writers understand the care that can go into just a few words. Graphemes, alliteration, syllables that flow, symbolism. . . Aerin Leigh-Amann. . . essentially three simple words . . . representing the single most empowering decision I've ever made in my life. It's right there in black and white. And every time I see it written on paper, every time I hear it spoken, the possibilities of who I am, who I'm becoming, take my breath away.