This is actually not a call out to all Postons.
Oh fuck no. Pretty much the last thing I’d do. When my niece was much younger, she used to tell people how far down they were on her ‘list’. The very bottom of her list was the place under all the dead bugs.
Having a get together with my father’s side of the family would fall in the ‘under the dead bugs’ on my list.
The reason for the title is an ad popped up on my Facebook wall. It was an offer to buy a T-shirt with the Poston family coat of arms on it. The title of the ad was ‘Calling all Postons’.
When I saw this, it kind of made me cringe. I would never wear that shirt. I would never wear that shirt without feeling a whole plethora of negative feelings.
I am sitting on my deck as I type this. It’s the first afternoon that has been warm and dry enough to sit outside. My hair looks like Helena Bonham Carter put it up and I have a big sweatshirt and pajama bottoms on. We have a fire and I was just entertaining Randy with a goofy sitting in a chair butt dance.
This is who I am. I’m anxious and I can be awkward. I give amazing pretend interviews to Ellen when I’m alone in my car. I’m too negative and have been really working toward getting more positive. That is very nearly true. I have thought about making an effort to be more positive. I’m yawning and stretching after being sick all year and taking serious stock of the health issue. Well, that and acid reflux has left me with no choice but to address my food habits.
I am exactly who I am. Whether I always like it or not, I do identify myself with the name Poston. It’s my fucking name. I’ve always felt a little like my hold on the ‘Poston’ name was tenuous and barely counted. In educating myself on being one of the adult children of narcissists, I have learned why I feel this way.
It’s bullshit. Poston will always be my last name. I’ve traded it away a few times and that has mostly proven to be a bad idea. Since Randy and I married I’ve always identified myself by my last name and his last name. I’m going to go ahead and stop calling it ‘maiden’ name. That’s a little Victorian for goddamn 2014.
I’m surprised that unexpectedly seeing my last name inspired the revulsion that it did. I am not sorry I saw the ad though. It made me think. Why was that my initial reaction? Isn’t it time to let go of more resentment? Sometimes, I think I hold on to the resentment because I’ve had it for so long that I don’t even recognize it anymore. Until something like this happens.
I’m glad that I can work through this without feeling bewildered and confused. Most the time, that would end with me deciding to just not think about it and move along. Fiddle dee dee.
Not now. Now, I understand why I feel angry and sad sometimes when seemingly non-eventful occurrences take place. I also understand that I’m learning to value myself more than I used to.
It’s not that I’m there, I have a way to go, but I am on the way. I have felt some differences.
My dad’s side of the family is scattered, but the majority of them live in the Greater Cincinnati area. I am one of the Postons. I am living my own life and it’s just as valid and valuable as the other Postons walking the earth.
I almost believe that. I am so close.
What a relief.
I hear you. I haven’t identified with my dad’s last name in so long that I almost forget it exists. Except my aunt…I like her.
Other than her, I identify with my husband and, just…us. Its me n him now, and we are a great team. We are autonomous awesomeness, and those other people are sadly just some very messed up folks who I happen to be related to.
Unfortunately this week has been very stressful around here with some family crap from another direction…He asked me what I want for my birthday soon, and I said “new parents?”
So, yeah. I wouldn’t wear the shirt either. Oh hayle no
Well, if he can’t get you new parents…ask for your own island.
I would be there in a minute. And this week i also want my Own shirt.
It will say “I CALL THE EFFING SHOTS IN MY OWN HOUSE!”
😛
Haha. That’s awesome!
It’s so strange that you wrote this today. I felt physically ill earlier this afternoon when someone referred to me by my married name. It’s the first time in a long while I’ve had to explain that I no longer use it. I’m so looking forward to losing that entirely. I’ve tried so hard to erase it from everywhere that I can over the last couple of years. It feels somehow that it still ties me to the worst narc. I’ve had the misfortune to know in my life, so I understand that feeling all too well and somehow I won’t feel free until I can do it legally. It is odd that even though we both know that a name doesn’t define who we are, it can still seemingly make such a big difference. I’m glad you’ve got past it. I’m hoping I can get past it too, by totally erasing mine and returning to my ‘maiden name’ (yep, that is a totally antiquated term). I need to work on the rest of it.
I think if it were a married name, then I would DEFINITELY want all traces of it gone. I think that’s different. And the names don’t define us, but that doesn’t negate the feelings we have.
It’s weird. I’ve always felt like way more of my identity was wrapped up in my first name than my last, even though I’m fairly typically Scotch-Irish and my last name is McFall…
That seems like the smart thing to do.
Whether you like it or not, you will always be a Poston. The most you can do is make that name synonymous with something good and agreeable.
The only reason I won’t wear anything with my last name on it is because so many people would butcher the pronunciation (it’s only 4 letters long, but sheesh).
Yeah, surprisingly, Poston gets mispronounced all the time. They rhyme it with Boston. It’s a long O.
Which sound unintentionally dirty. Or is that just me?
I hope you do believe it all the way to your core cuz I think you’re awesome! I have negative feelings towards my family’s name too (on my dad’s side) and to think I fought to keep it for so long. ?? Why? I guess my identity was part if it, I didn’t want to give that up, but now I’m so so glad I did.
Thank you so much! And I’m trying to CLAIM it as my identity. Although, really…it only has meaning that I give to it..it doesn’t matter.