?? My New Name - Jax NiCarthaigh ??

I have some personal news. I've changed my name. My new name is Jax NiCarthaigh.

How does one share this milestone on LinkedIn? The colleague who encouraged me to write this wanted more than an announcement, and challenged me to not write around the corners. She asked, “How did you not connect with your name? At our age it’s almost innate and deeply entangled with our identify. Why did yours never fit?”

Our names are intimate and personal, aren't they? We all have them. They wrap around us and represent our identity and individuality. We develop emotional connections with them, sometimes cultural significance. We hold stereotypes about certain names, and even name shame. (I feel for the Karens of the world in recent years). Names hold symbolic power and can give us linguistic and phonetic pleasure. Names carry expectations and associations.

There's nothing intrinsically wrong with Margaret Ellen McCarthy. It’s long, symmetrical, upright, and the M’s always looked like mountains to me. I love mountains. However, I have retired it, into the first half of my life, and, now, as I’m waiting for the new certificate to come through, I’ve been thinking through my colleague’s questions.

I know many great Margaret’s. There’s nothing wrong with the name. It’s just not me.

Before I tell you about leaving my old name, let me tell you how I landed Jax.

A few years ago, in 2020 and in-between lockdowns, I was on the road to Canberra, I listened to an audiobook, "#PlayingBig " by Tara Sophia Mohr . It's an excellent eclectic guide for women wanting to grow into their full selves. I recommend it.

While driving, I did one of her exercises. A meditation to visualise and meet one's future self then adopt that vision as an inner guide. The first time I did the activity, I wasn't impressed with who I met. Perhaps I was being too self-judgmental, or perhaps the exercise was meant to be done with eyes closed, and I was driving and keeping my eyes on the road. Whatever the cause, the image I conjured up was another M name, and a very pale, soft, wishy-washy person. I dismissed it.

Later that night, in a motel at Murrumbateman, I gave it another go and met Jax. Jax is the bolder, braver, kinder, taller and sassier side of me. The "I can do it" side.?After that night, for the next couple of years, whenever I needed to "woman-up" more, be brave, put myself out there, whenever I had to face the troubles, the mistakes, and the tricky dynamics that the pandemic threw up at me, there was Jax, spritely and confidently saying, "Come on, get back in there, I can do this."

By the way, Mohr recommends that one keeps this “mentor conjuring” activity private. Possibly lest everyone think you’re loopy. I did keep Jax quiet for a few years. While I did, the name grew strong for me. I connected to it. I liked this inner me. Totally out there, but totally works.?

Now to the old name… In my family history, both my grandmothers were called Margaret. Both. As the first born girl, with two Margaret grandmothers, my parents didn’t have much choice with me. I was called after them, giving me a double dose of the name.

I'm immensely proud of my grandmothers. They were smart, capable, even tough, women. They both raised families on their own. Survivors with big emotional force fields around them. Carriers of intergenerational trauma. One was a widow early, the other just short of being deserted. Neither of them used their Margaret - one was always Madge, the other always Meg. I actually inherited my full name from Madge. Margaret Ellen McCarthy. When we buried her, I became one of the few people who've seen their own name on a casket at a funeral, and in death notices. A tad heavy. That aside, I've grown like them, in similar ways for different reasons.

I am also a writer. There are plenty of published writers called Margaret McCarthy, true. I have total respect for them. And there's a few humanitarians as well who I hold in high regards. I don’t diss my old name. It's part of my heritage.?It's not disappearing. But it's not coming with me. I’ve left it in safe storage in a box at Births, Deaths, and Marriages, along with my original birth certificate.

Had I been overthinking this?

Perhaps. I can be tenacious with an idea and not liking my name had been a persistent theme my whole life. Like most unresolved things, the name issue kept popping up. Few people used my full Margaret. I've been called Grot, Marg, Margie, Madge, Maggot, Peg, Margherita (my fav), McCarthy, and my emergency management name: Macca. I tried once when I was 19 to become Terri, though it didn’t stick. I used the pen name Gem for a while, showing my fondness for the J sound. The full name is long to write, easily and regularly misspelled, and though beautifully balanced, it was cumbersome. I was more “over” thinking about this. I have other things more productive to get on with.

Then, while on a swim challenge earlier this year, a fresh idea occurred. I hadn't grown into my name by now, if I hadn’t connected with it at the ripe age of 55, then... I never would. That my name might, instead, wrap more tightly around me and, with my own sense of what being a Margaret meant, restrict me at a time when I am becoming my most light, free and joyful.

People around me have been sharing all their name change stories.?Beyond marriage, some are aligning with a new gender identity (which I relate to), others have moved countries and taken a more local (usually anglicised) one. Some were given one name at birth, then always called another - quite common. Some go by those other names, but never followed through the paperwork (understandably). Someone told me of knowing a person in witness protection who had the paperwork sorted, but was finding it hard to let go of their old name for their safe new one. I also heard of a man who'd taken on his wife's last name. Commendable, and rare. Neither of my parents use their official first names. In earlier years, many of my friends had chosen names. Some heralding chaos, others totally bright and full of life.

All these stories, and more, swirl around me presently. At the time in the pool when I realised I didn’t connect with my name, the Jaxiness in me just piped up:?"If you don't like your name, you can do something about that. Just change it."

I sat with that, or swam with it, for a few days. The quality and voice of my inner questions changed over the days. “What would people think?” was answered by: “Who’s living your life?”

“To change one's name it very fussy!”?was answered by: “The statement sounds full of harsh self-judgement.”

"I have a professional reputation to uphold." ... "So your ego is stopping you from being your best you, and blaming it on others?"

These evolved to: “Is it emotionally, professionally, spiritually safe to do so?”, “What will I lose? What will I gain?” “Do I wait” and then, “if not now, when?”

Over time these questions just fell away. It was simple. "Ok, yes to the change. What name then?" The answer came instantly. "You've been using Jax for a couple of years. You like it. Just use that!" And it fit.

I love the joyfulness of the J. Some of my best people have J names. One good friend told me that people with X's in their names are badasses. I'll take that one. And overall, it's light and short, simple and fun. Still businesslike and capable but with some sparkle. A lot more like me (as those who know me tell me often now). The best part for me is that Jax asks me to step up fully to life, not hunker down and develop armour to face the world. As a name, it asks me to be, well, more me.

Why the last name? I may have stayed with McCarthy, but it's also been used as my first name for years. To be honest, my dad's not happy about me letting go of it. However, I rolled around with this for a month, and leaving it didn't feel right. Perhaps it was the linguistic and phonetic pleasure of the names together that was missing, or as someone who likes harmony and balance, a need to marry the old with the new. NiCarthaigh is an ancient variant of McCarthy. It loosely means "daughter of love." Hard to go past that! I like the sound of the names together and figured if I'm going to go to the effort with one, do the other at the same time. So in for a penny, in for a pound.

Now that I've been going by Jax for several months, I occasionally trip up and call myself by my old name. It's only and always only when I'm in trouble with myself. "Oh, Marg...ar...et!"

How's it worked out?

My experience has been far and wide very positive and highly professional and inclusive in the work sphere. My lovely consultancy #CommunicationLink published my pic and story in our newsletter and we ate “J” lollies. (Can you guess which?”) My client at ACT Government where I am currently "embedded", celebrated with a "Jax" cake and more lollies. (I see a theme here.) I’m a few weeks out from getting the official paperwork, and then starting on changing my passport and licence. Oh the fun! In the meantime, I'm very grateful to my coach and coaching group, my counsellor, my huge team of friends and supports have made this transition smooth and fun, right down to encouraging me to post here.

Thank you to those throughout my network that have received my news positively. I've been conscious to bring people along with me. My name has changed, but my skills and love of working with great people remains. It's my hope that stepping out as more me, and taking these positive actions, that others might feel seen, and maybe see a path where one was not clear before. I know that hearing of other's experiences has helped me be strong, and break down some of that armour.

I’m only halfway through my life, if I can stretch it to the max as I hope. When I hear or say Jax, I experience my identity and individuality as strong and clear. I'm emotionally connected with it, and others are finding that quickly. The cultural significance of my new first name is less traditional and gender-neutral, more in keeping with the queer identity I've been out with nearly all of my life. (I will explore this further later, but first the name). The last name is rich with heritage. I’ve kept my middle name. If it is true that names hold symbolic power, and I believe it is, then I believe that this name will keep me accountable to me to do the good, kind, and loving work that I intend to achieve in life. The expectations and associations are currently freshly minted, and they will gain a patina through use, which you can help me with. And lastly, that linguistic and phonetic pleasure. I seek to build experiences that bring joy. For me, that has arrived with my new name. Call me Jax.

I'm curious. That's enough about my journey, what about you? Have you experience with name change? How did it go? Why not share what that has meant for you and your life below?

A little about the author: I am a senior communication and stakeholder engagement advisor in Canberra, Australia. I connect all kinds of humans to large projects and programs, and in turn seek to make the project and programs more human friendly for the benefit of the projects and the communities these serve. My experience is informed by a career with hopscotches across sectors and roles and my love of great conversations. I have special interest in nature, creativity and systems (including AI and ChatGPT). I write on ways of thinking, being and doing that will create a better world for future generations.

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