There are numerous times I have been mistaken for someone else which I will disclose at the end of this story. I will in the meantime discuss my experiences with my own identity.
Looking back, I believe that much of the way we think of ourselves comes from the way we think others see us. Early childhood expectations from those around us, the labels given to us, the comparisons we draw from observing other people and the successes and failures relating to our attempts to live up to being how we think we should be.
When I was in my thirties I changed my name. I don’t remember ever liking the one I was given at birth.
I loved my grandfather but being named after him wasn’t what I would have wanted. My middle name was from a dead great, great uncle, I think. Somehow I never felt comfortable being George Albert King.
My father’s name was Francis Frederick King and I felt uncomfortable that my younger brother was given that name with a roman numeral II after it. I felt that rightfully that should have been my name even though I didn’t like it either.
In college I had a friend whose name was Michael. I couldn’t have let myself even think about my feelings for him. He was so stunningly beautiful that people would make strange sounds when seeing him; the girls especially. Not only was he good looking, he was a wonderful person. I felt so honored to be his best friend. I can see now that I was in love with him and probably he was with me. Our wives were also the best of friends. I had wished that I had been named Michael but the idea of changing my name didn’t occur to me for another dozen years. I did however name my son Michael.
When I was 33 I had a vision that changed my life. As a result I changed my name. Two years later I went to court and officially became Michael Jon King. Almost immediately after I started calling myself Michael I became aware that people acted very differently to me than they had when I was George. I felt different about myself and it seemed like I was finally being who I really was. I also had a better sense of how I wanted to become and by now have actually changed myself into the person I feel I really am. I owe a lot to this to the “Telling your story” group as so much of my baggage, the pains of the past, the delusions I had created have been recognized and in recognizing this has brought about a clarity of being the who that I am and has given me a freedom and a peace of mind that I had never known before. I have self-respect. I didn’t know what was missing previously but felt something was. I was too burdened with trying to be what I thought I should be and wasn’t being who I am.
I’m glad that I had a family. I glad I had the failures that taught me so much, and, I’m glad I had successes. I created a mistaken identity for myself in many ways.
The mistaken identity that I mentioned at the beginning of this story has been because I have received many calls from collectors mistaking me for some deadbeats with the same name as mine who don’t pay their bills.
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