Reader, some of you may have noticed that I have added “Alma” to my name, between Gayla and Drake. 

I get so many complements on my name. It is a good name, very pretty. Here’s the actual story of why my parents named me Gayla. My mom’s little brother was dating a woman, briefly, called Gayla, and my mom liked the name, and when I was born she decided to use it – even though he had married aunt Alice a couple years before I was born.

That’s it. I was named for a woman my uncle dated briefly because my mom liked the name. Mystic significance=0. Family tradition=0. Heritage=0. She just liked it and when I was born it was as good as any other.

But, Reader dear, it was never my name.

I would look at my name any time it was written down and feel a vast disconnect between me and it, even when I was a little. I wished my name was anything  else, anything at all – and honestly, that feeling didn’t really ever pass. When I got older, I saw it on posters for gigs, or in a byline and it would look almost alien, and didn’t feel like it had anything to do with who I really was. After a while, it became like a suit or a costume I had to put on. Getting ready for  gigs, I’d even say “I have to get my Gayla on.” Ultimately it was a brand, and it didn’t belong to me but served some other purpose, maybe just to differentiate me from all the other singer-songwriters out there.

Don’t get me wrong, please, Gayla is a lovely name. It’s just not mine.

Eventually, it got to the point where I would often flinch in pain when someone would say my name. That’s still happening, in fact. Not as often as it was, but some. It makes me feel like I’m in trouble. The sound of my name in someone else’s mouth, even a friend, makes me feel bad, guilty, ill, scared, nervous, triggered. About a year ago, it was so bad I had to do something about it. I talked to my main squeeze, Michael, of course, and his take was really interesting, considering he was a total non-woowoo sort of person when we got together. He said, “Maybe you have a True Name and there’s no shaman or tribal elder to give it to you.” I was stunned because, first of all, from the mouths of babes (and he is adorable), and second, why the hell didn’t I think of that? and third, it felt so right.

I talked to Laura about it, too, and we actually came up with a ritual for me to do to discover my True Name, and it worked.

At first I thought it was Elma, because the Guide that has been with me since I was a little is called Elma, and my thinking was, they are my higher self anyway, so that makes sense – and it felt right. I muscle tested Elma and had a solid yes. I muscle tested Gayla and got a resounding no. But still, something wasn’t quite quite. . . it wasn’t . . . an enthusiastic yes. So I listened deeper, and heard a soft voice saying, “Alma, not Elma.” I muscle tested Alma and nearly fell on my face. Ka-BOOM!

I did some research which just made it even more perfect. Alma means Apple in some languages, and we all know what a powerful symbol apples are. Alma also means Mother, and I am a born nurturer. But the most curious thing I learned was that in Arabic, in a particular context, Elma means “the water,” and Alma means “on the water.” Elma is the Ocean, Alma is the Boat. Alma is the Drop, Elma is the Ocean. Bingo.

Gayla will stick around as my legal name because I am just too effing lazy to deal with changing it at this point in my life. 

And it’s a perfectly fine legal name. But Alma is going to be my intimate name, the name I hope friends and family will adopt and adjust to. I know it takes time, and I’m not going to be prickly about it. I have been Gayla for 56 years and though uncomfortable, it hasn’t exactly killed me.

It encourages me that there are ever-increasing numbers of people who are finding the courage to shed who they aren’t and embrace who they are, and openly say, “That identity didn’t fit me. Thank you for adjusting to this new one with me.” There are people opening up their lives to possibilities they never imagined for themselves, and it takes courage and strength, no matter how subtle or sweeping the change. I know there are people who will never understand how deeply I feel about this, and that’s okay. Gayla is a good brand, but that’s all it is now.

Bright blessings to all those who are leaving big things behind. Let’s do this.

Do you need help finding courage to leave something behind or make a major life-change? SoundWorks can help.