- I changed my name from Liz to Emma when I was a teenager.
- There were already four Liz's in my class and it seem too basic of a name.
During the summer after 8th grade, shortly before I dyed my hair Batman blue with Manic Panic, I changed my name from Liz to Emma. The name Emma seemed both new and old at the same time — and I wanted to be done with the ho-hum of Liz.
There were four in my class alone: Liz G., Liz Z., Liz D., and then there was me, Liz N. Liz was basic and too easy to find, like Pepsi or a football fan dressed up on game day.
Emma shimmered like tasteful sequins on a vintage dress. Emma was as magical as the color of ice. Just enough, but not too much. The truth is that I didn't want to be myself anymore because I didn't like myself very much. I was 14 years old. Does anyone really like themselves at that age? What I longed for most was to arrive home from summer camp as someone new.
My parents made me file the paperwork myself
"As long as it's not permanent damage," said my mother a few weeks later when I announced the change to my family. My father nodded along. I had already yanked my dusty backpack off the camp bus and settled into my familiar spot at the kitchen table. This was the overall life policy of my parents (except, somehow, that cobalt hair, which they were strongly against).
"If you want to have it legally changed, you'll have to file the paperwork yourself though," my father added, with the practicality of a lawyer. It was a fair response, although I did not appreciate it at the time. He knew that I wouldn't want to deal with that paperwork, and he wasn't about to do it for me.
Regardless, I was allowed to evolve. My folks knew I would become so many versions of myself, which was part of growing up. We are all still developing right in this very day, hour, and minute. Emma was much less common back then — only older women or Europeans seemed to share my moniker.
Then 'Friends' made the name Emma popular
Less than a decade later, in season eight, Rachel (played by the iconic Jennifer Aniston) from "Friends" gave her and Ross's baby the very same name. Soon, little Emma babies, inspired by the hit TV show, popped up like buttered kernels at a multiplex.
There was life before baby Geller-Green, and then there was life after. What I am trying to say is this: "Friends" changed my life, but not in the way that you might think. Now, nearly every time I set foot in a grocery store, I hear, "Emma, don't touch that!" or "Not today, Emma" or just "Emmah!" shouted freely. A sticky-faced elementary schooler runs by, sometimes stomping on my foot.
As it turned out, the name Emma is the kind of Wonder bread that you can find on a middle shelf at Target, screamed by overzealous parents at any recreational soccer game. I can spot it on nearly every class list at my children's school, and I hear it echoed in the halls of the shopping mall near my house. It is featured in Hollywood and also at the train-themed playground in Minnetonka, Minnesota. I thought I was launching an era of rareness, and I was wrong.
I'm less concerned about standing out now
There are 276,660 people in the US with the first name Emma right now. Unsurprisingly, I am not as unique as I once wanted to be. I changed, and the world changed, too. Sometimes, these things collide in unexpected ways.
All of this would have bothered me when I was coming of age, but not anymore. Gratefully, I am less concerned about standing out, and generally less compelled to claim my identity either way.
I am over 40, and in this era, I am overly satisfied by a good night's sleep. I am lulled by the way the sunlight pours through my window just so at 2 p.m. I have meaningful work as a psychotherapist, some dear friendships, and a family of my own that is never, ever boring. I have people who make life compelling, funny, and sometimes even lovely — and hopefully, I am no longer the complete center of my own universe.
After several decades of really caring about my name, you can now call me whatever you want. Honestly, I'm just happy if you call me.
Emma Nadler lives in Minnesota and is a psychotherapist and the author of :The Unlikely Village of Eden: A Memoir."