When I got engaged, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to take my ex's last name. I wanted a reason not to need to identify with all of my other siblings in a way that blended me in, even though we were all grown adults once I got married. I was a different person under the initials JLS. Jennifer Lucchese-Soto has an even flow to it; I felt different. When they threw the Mrs. in there, my god, I felt elite, and that was odd.

The night of our first dating anniversary, my ex commented on being nervous while driving through Gary to the Uber driver on our way to dinner, and it sat with me all night until we got home. She loved to make small talk to anyone we drove with, and I'm the kind of rider that will almost always give you a five-star rating if you just shut the fuck up. It was one of our many contrasts. Libra and Aires are the other. I wasn't ready for that. Not then, maybe now, but not then.

We had this blowout screaming match after dinner at each other about how she felt that I was ashamed of her because she came from an affluent neighborhood in Chicago, and her parents held extremely high-paying jobs. I remember saying that it wasn't shame that I felt. I had begun to feel annoyed every time she'd preface a story to my family about her past saying, "in Lincoln Park," because in my mind, I thought, "everyone gets it; you had a financially comfortable childhood." She slept on the couch that night. Very telling of the relationship to come. We didn't often fight because I was unwilling to stand up for myself on many occasions, but there'd be times I say something snarky because my patience had grown incredibly thin with her.

Five years later, and now I'm working on changing my name back. It's such a process, and I don't know where to begin. That's what's kept me from going back to being Jennifer Kennedy: not knowing how to do it.

My maiden name is so pretty. I can't wait to see it on everything of mine again. Once it's changed, I'll probably get a new job. I'll feel more inclined to, anyway. I don't want an email with that old last name. I don't was a lease, or mail, or anything with my married name. I'm not that person. I cringe when people butcher it, unsure how to pronounce the "cch" in it. I get it.

I love the anonymity Jennifer Kennedy has. I can't imagine how many people have that name. This is so fucking corny, but I love that I'm that only me.

There is power in a name.