Rivi Name Change

Before

After

It's strange to think about how many people in my life only know me as Rivi. How many of my friends, professors, acquaintances, etc. only know the healed version of me, the recovered girl, the bouncy and bubbly personality that is so crucial to who I am. I have received a few requests, after reading my high holy day intentions, to explain how and why I chose to nickname myself Rivi. There's a long version and a short version.




The short version is: After recovering from years of mental illness, in what can only be described as a near miracle, I felt like a different person. I felt like I had been born again and given another chance at life. Because of this, I felt my identity had shifted from the mentally ill girl I was into the woman I was meant to be.


The long version I posted on my Facebook wall my senior year of high school, and I will post again here. At that time I was debating between Rivi or Rivka, and I have since settled on Rivi as my name and my identity.

May we all go from strength to strength. My love to all, and I am here if anyone wants to talk.


Hey Facebook friends…You may have noticed that my Facebook name has changed from Rebecca to Rivka. I am now going by Rivka, and I would prefer to be called that, though I completely understand the difficulty of transition. Many people have been asking me my reasons for changing myname, so I thought I would give everyone the backstory.


As many of you know, I suffered about five years of intense mental health problems. If you do not know what I went through, here is the link to my Drash for Yom Kippur describing my journey:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9Qv-oE8vvU.

In November and December, I had some minor relapse issues, but by late January, I was stable. And so I started my journey of releasing the past.


I had been thinking about taking on a nickname for some time— I liked the name Rivi because it was what my dad called me when I was younger. I have been trying to reconnect with that child inside of me. Especially as I head off to college and the future, I don’t want to lose that imagination and excitement for life.


I talked to a few of my friends about my thoughts on a nickname, but it was pretty casual and I doubted it would catch on. I wasn’t very determined to change it. @Sarah suggested the name Rivka instead of Rivi, and I liked that, because Rivka reminded me of the Jewish stories about immigration I had read in elementary school. In addition, my great grandmother, Nanny Bea (Beatrice), had originally been Rivka in Europe before she changed it to fit in with America. Still, I wasn’t committed to the name catching on for me.


I started calling myself Rivka, writing my name as Rivka, telling the baristas at Starbucks my name was Rivka, but it was an effort. When someone asked me my name, or I started to write it somewhere, it took a conscious effort to decide what name I was going to choose. I wanted to become Rivka. I wanted to remember the girl who wrote stories in composition books and sang dramatic songs from Wicked on the porch steps.


So it was a couple days of this conscious effort. I didn’t tell anyone I was changing my name; some of the teachers approached me because I had changed my name on papers. They were super supportive and started to call me Rivka, and I tried to refer to myself as that, but I was still not totally committed.
I felt like I was in a transition between names. Rebecca did not quite fit anymore, but I didn’t really feel that I was ready to let it go. That is, until a Wednesday in February. I think it was the 19th, though it doesn’t really matter.


I was walking back from off campus lunch with a few Starbucks in my hands for my friends back at school. Nice thoughts were passing through my mind; I was getting drinks for my JCHS friends, I was independent for lunch, I was a senior in high school, and I had been accepted into my dream college.
On my way back, I saw out of the corner of my eye a familiar face. He had gone to Fusion with me. We weren’t friends, we didn’t even know each other that well. I think the most I had said to him was, “sorry to keep you waiting,” when I took a few extra moments to talk to my favorite teacher, Joanna.


“Hey!” I called. “Did you go to Fusion?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
“I don’t know if you remember me,” I said. “I was Rebecca.”
“Yeah,” he said, and waved as he hurried to catch up with his friends.


It took me a second to comprehend what just happened. It was amazing; it was closure. Then I realized what I had said. I WAS Rebecca. It came so easily. I wasn’t that awkward girl with slurred speech pacing around a tiny alternative school floor. I didn’t think about what name I was; he knew me as Rebecca, this person that I wasn’t anymore. That was when I realized I needed to take the effort to change my name to fit my life, and finally let go of the past.


This past week I had an amazing trip to New Orleans with my Senior class. It was draining, but it was something I would never have been capable of a year ago. I told a few people my story of Rivka, and before I knew it, that was how I was referred to. People were apologizing for calling me Rebecca! I didn’t mind and I still don’t, but I am not Rebecca anymore. I still respond to her, because she will always be part of me, but I am ready to become Rivka/Rivi.


I know this post is freakishly long, so I apologize to those of you who have gotten to this point. But I needed to tell the story of Rebecca to Rivka, of my transition away from the dark years. Thank you to everyone who helped me through the hard years. Thank you to everyone reading this for listening to my story. I love you all.


Best,
Rivka.