Olivia was the name that I was given at birth. Olivia, meaning “olive tree.” The most well-known symbolic connotation of the olive tree is peace and friendship.

But Lola was the name I chose for myself. 

Lola. Lola is a name given in romance languages, meaning “lady of sorrows.” Sorrow; a noun, meaning “a feeling of deep distress.” According to a google search definition, Lola is dull, faded. She is the overcast you see prior to a storm. Something melancholic and lonely. A tree, absent of all its leaves, creaking as the crisp air blows through its well-aged bark. 

Lola is something unfixable—but I am not that.    

My relationship with my name is complicated. I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I have a pretty name. In fact, that’s the only thing I've ever heard about my name, how beautiful it is. I’ve never heard that it’s unattractive, or that it’s atypical—so why have I heard those things about myself? 

Why can my name hear all this praise but I don’t receive the same? 

My worst years were between middle school and early high school, people called me names and mocked me. Oftentimes I would turn my head to see people I thought were my best friends making fun of me, then giving me that look as if I was unusual. An abnormality. I was so young, I didn’t understand why people would do something so cruel. 

Having tics has been a significant part of my life, they’re a blessing and a curse. Blinking constantly and forcefully. Jerking my head to the right. talking in a scratchy, monotone voice. I’ve taught myself that they’re a beautiful thing, that their uniqueness is what sets me apart from being a norm. Growing up, I have realized just how many people don’t understand this. 

But I learned to accept it. They’re part of me. Part of my name. My name. It’s just a simple, four letter word that I chose without any knowledge whatsoever of what it meant. My name is what I make of it. Not a definition you can search on Google. Not what people say about me. 

 Lola represents the pain put into passion, striving to do my best. She represents confusion, pondering whether others appreciate you the way you want to be appreciated. The beauty, loyalty, and times of bliss. Lola represents growth as a person, and acceptance of myself.