I’ve never been a person to have a nicknames. My family didn’t have nicknames growing up. Maybe for like a minute, one of my brothers called me “Yo-yo” (somehow derived from any child’s lack of ability to say “Laurel”).
A couple of years ago, most of my friends had some nickname and so I wanted one. The option was “Andi” to reference Molly Ringwald‘s character in “Pretty in Pink“. Two of my friends used it and until one of them left on her mission the nickname slowly died.
I’m not sure why nicknames don’t stick with me. Maybe nothing quite fits me like my name. On my mission, only some missionaries used a shortened version of my last name. Most didn’t.
Maybe I command respect and need the FULL version of my name. About a year or two ago, I started reading Josh Weed‘s blog and learned his wife’s name is Laurel but she goes by Lolly. I thought—Perfect… That’s a perfect nickname.
Nope. Didn’t even really try.
I’ve accepted that I will never have a nickname and I’m okay with that in some ways. I know that no one will ever be left out of inside jokes.
For a moment I tried using a pen name or pseudonym or nom de plume. The same effect. I’m ready to drop the account because I felt like it wasn’t fully me. It was me pretending to be someone else. And I didn’t like that very much.
Sometimes I wish my name wasn’t “Laurel”. I’m just not sure who I would be then.