Full-fledged identity crisis

EMC Editorial - I have a confession to make. I hate my name. Specifically, I loathe the hyphen, and mentally cringe every time I have to tell someone my full name.

It’s not that I have anything against the concept of two last names. I just don’t think the hyphen is a good fit for me. I feel it makes me come off as more high maintenance than I am, or that it gives the impression I’m trying to make some grand statement when I’m really not.

I came by the hyphen through a combination of indecisiveness and sheer laziness. My original intention was to change my name to my husband’s – Campbell - when I got married. However, my all time biggest pet peeve has got to be dealing with bureaucratic institutions that require you to fill out forms, dig up old documents and produce nine different kinds of identification before they give you some new or renewed identifier.

As a result, I never did make it to the relevant ministries to have my name officially changed, and when forced to renew my health card and driver’s license this past summer I just couldn’t bring myself to get into it.

I know, I know. I could have the name changed if I gave it any kind of effort. The problem is also that I’m also far too sentimental and caught up in symbols of all kinds. Deep down, the thought of outright dropping my poor old maiden name makes me feel sad. My whole life I’ve been Hollie Pratt, and the name has served me well.

At the same time, I love how Steve and I are now our own little family. Someday, we will have children, and I would like us all to have the same last name. Our family will be “the Campbells” and I would like to avoid being the odd one out.

Thus I started calling myself Hollie Pratt-Campbell as a means of compromising between both sides of my personality. Despite the fact that I hate it, it’s always seemed like the least painful of three evils, and I get to avoid all the bureaucratic nonsense.

However, the situation came to a head a few weeks ago when I became extremely sick and needed to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance. The cause of my illness is not relevant, but the really pathetic thing is that in the midst of everything the precariousness of last name became an issue.

Steve – who would more than anything like me to be a Campbell – told the EMTs that my name is Hollie Campbell, and forms and whatnot were filled out accordingly. When we arrived at the hospital, I was required to produce my health card. Of course, according to the Ministry of Health, I’m still Hollie Pratt.

Much confusion ensued as I tried to explain the situation in my illness-induced delirium.

“Oh don’t worry hun,” said the nurse, who clearly assumed my wedding was five weeks ago instead of five years ago. “All you need to do is bring your marriage certificate down to the ministry and they’ll change it for you.”

Marriage certificate? I haven’t seen that thing since I graced it with my signature on my wedding day. Does that mean I need to call up some machine at Service Ontario and see if it can track down a copy of a piece of paper that will end up costing me $50+? Ugh.

Still, I believe the incident was a sign that the time has come for me to choose. Over the years, I’ve watched friends slip out of old last names and into new ones with effortless ease. I’ve watched others keep their names without even giving it a second thought. I don’t know why this is so difficult for me, and I’d really appreciate some advice.

What do you think, my friends? Should I keep my old name or take the plunge already and change it? Or perhaps you don’t mind hyphens? Women - what did/will you choose to do for your own name and why? I’d love to hear your thoughts.