BECOMING STELLA

My name isn't Stella. Not really. It was a nickname given to me by my then 5 year old daughter in 2000. She is a huge KISS fan and for some reason, temporary lapse of judgement aside, she had watched the movie Detroit Rock City where the stoner kids fondly refer to the bitchy disco girls as "Stellas". She wanted something, I wouldn't give it to her, and SHE called ME...Stella. And so it stuck. My new boyfriend (now my bf of 10 and a half years) thought that she was so cute and clever and hilarious, it became my name. Some of his friends don't even know my real name. I didn't mind the change. It felt kind of good. I was the cool girl at all the parties, the hot chick that hung out with all the guys. I got alot of attention, which was nothing new, but now it was as somebody else. It was like becoming a new person. Something that "Stella" did or "Stella" said didn't come back to haunt me after the weekend. After several months into my new identity the honeymoon period of the new relationship wore off, and for the first time, my boyfriend was treating me like a possession instead of a princess. Instead of the name rolling off the lips of a smiling face or being whispered in my ear during an intimate moment, it was snarled through clinched teeth and rode on angry breath that smelled like alcohol and pot. When I was in trouble with the chief, "Stella" was used as curse word and not like the cute term of endearment I had once welcomed. My life as Stella was in a downward spiral spinning with the likes of an abusive boyfriend who lived a life full of drugs, alcohol, and other women. I didn't like who I had become. Where I had once excelled at my job and as a mother, I was missing work regularly and exposing my children to the rage of a man who claimed to love us. His abuse was never directed at the girls, only at me and himself. He had badmouthed me (to make himself look better) and soon when we travelled to his hometown all the girls who were bitches or buzzkills were referred to as Stella. It hurt. I decided to make a change in my life and put in my notice at the job that I had loved for 7 years and moved back to my hometown. I was leaving with or without him. Definately without unless he could make some immediate changes. He moved with us. He is a high functioning alcoholic with a great job and love for his family. There are times that ugly, snarling, angry person returns...he isn't welcome here. I worked hard to show the real me to his friends and family and was able to break the stigma that went along with being called a Stella, and I'M BACK!