Lots in a name

A while back I was in a study group talking about our characteristics and experiences that make us who we are. At the conclusion, each of the participants was asked to name one thing that they feel defines them in some way, a label or a connection that they feel strongly is "who I am". When it came to my turn, I had to pass. Not because I didn't have an answer, but because the answer would have made the others in the room quite uncomfortable. I don't feel a connection to much - my gender, my age, my family, my career, my home, none of these feel like an important part of me. The only thing that came to mind as a real answer was that I am nadi, my Master's slave-slut.

Master said to me today that he finds it difficult not to call me nadi in the company of people who don't know me by that name. I can certainly relate - I feel so comfortable as nadi that sometimes I almost don't recognise my so-called "real name". When I am asked my name, I often pause for a split second before answering. But when I can say my name is nadi, it rolls off my tongue without hesitation.

It seems quite strange that a name I've only used sparingly until fairly recently has come to mean so much to me compared to the name I was given at birth. Or maybe it makes perfect sense - it is, after all, a name I've chosen, and one that has become attached to some of the most transformational experiences of my life, which I have also chosen, and without which I would not be the same person. If I wasn't nadi, I truly wouldn't be me.