Disconnected From My Name

This is a post I’ve been thinking about for a long time and an issue I’ve been struggling with for even longer: my name and how I feel about it. A simple and yet deeply complicated thing.


I’ve always wrestled with my sense of identity. It’s always felt like something unstable, something permanently unsettled that I can’t get a grip on. And one specific thing I’ve always struggled with is my name.

I don’t think it helps that my name – the most straightforward form of my identity – has changed multiple times over my life… Growing up, I was Alex: that’s what my family and friends called me. But, given that it was legally (and therefore from an administrative point of view) my middle name, I was constantly getting called the wrong name by teachers and doctors and so on; it was very frustrating to continually correct people. So, when I moved up to secondary school, I started using Lauren. I was about to have more than ten different teachers a week for five years and meet potentially hundreds of new people; I really, really didn’t want to be correcting that many people. And I wonder whether it was a manifestation of struggling with my name even then, even if I wasn’t fully cognisant of it then. So, from that point on, I was Lauren. It took a while to get used to – and coming back from the summer holidays was always a bit of a culture shock – but it wasn’t long before it didn’t even register anymore. I was Alex at home and Lauren everywhere else. I’m not sure it was a decision I should’ve been making at eleven but the change in school forced it and after all this time, it is what it is. The decision was made and, honestly, I think I’d probably do it again, if only for practical reasons (although I do still get confused about who I am to who and which name to sign on Christmas cards and so on).

Having said that, I’ve never felt particularly attached to either name; they’ve always felt weird to me and have done my whole life. Each name could just be another word; they don’t mean anything to me, don’t have any sentimental value. They just feel like prompts to respond to or indicators for action. Being called by either is a bit like wearing clothes that aren’t quite the right shape or trying to use a flathead screwdriver when you really need a Phillips head screwdriver – it does the job but it doesn’t feel like the right fit.

I’m hardly the first or the only person to feel this way. Sometimes our names don’t match our personalities (whether that’s down to stereotypes or literal descriptive words that get used as names, such as ‘Patience’ or ‘Faith’); sometimes they remind us of things we’d rather not think about; sometimes we simply don’t like the way they sound. There are even studies that show that your name can have a pretty dramatic impact on who you grow up to be and how you interact with the world, a phenomenon known as nominative determinism (x). Having a name that doesn’t feel like yours, that doesn’t feel like it fits you, can create a feeling of almost cognitive dissonance: our image and understanding of ourselves doesn’t match up with how the world views us, how the world identifies us, how we interact with the world and the people around us.

My relationship with my name has changed a little since I started releasing music under my full name, Lauren Alex Hooper, maybe because the name is now being associated with something I’ve created, something I’m proud of. That’s when I most feel like Lauren Alex Hooper. But I still don’t feel particularly connected to it. It could still be any random word but there’s some warmth that wasn’t there before.


When I was younger, I thought a lot about changing my name, about choosing a new one for myself but, in the end, I never did it. And then I started releasing music and, given how hard it is to carve out a career as an independent artist and songwriter, changing my name now would only make my life harder (and, quite honestly, it’s hard enough already – I don’t need to add to the pile). Plus, I’m not sure changing my name would actually change the feeling. I wonder if it’s more a case of not feeling comfortable as a person; maybe if I felt more comfortable in myself, my name wouldn’t feel the way it does. Or maybe it would and it’s just one of those things, one of those feelings that I just need to learn to make space for.

Mass Observation Day 2023 (A Day in My Life)

So yesterday was the 12th of May, also known in the UK as Mass Observation Day! Every year, the Mass Observation Archive asks people to keep a diary for the day in order to record the everyday lives of the UK population. I’ve been keeping diaries for most of my life and I think that the idea of pulling together all of these accounts in order to get a picture of an ordinary day in the life, whatever that might look like, for a big group of people is really, really cool so I always try to participate. Here is my contribution for this year.

Some important things to know before reading: I’m neurodivergent, autistic and ADHD, and struggle with multiple mental health issues (Depression, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder) and physical health problems (Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). Having spent eighteen months in the worst depressive episode of my life, I’m recently back on medication and trying to get my feet under me again, working hard at both therapy and hydrotherapy. I’ve also recently released my latest single as a singersongwriter, ‘House on Fire,’ and am working towards several other projects.


I slept through two alarms, completely exhausted. I’d had a really late night in London seeing Ingrid Andress in concert (supported by Nick Wilson), which was absolutely amazing but between the energy expended and how late I got home, I was beyond tired.

When I finally managed to force myself awake around eleven, I lay in bed for a little while: I did a quick check in with social media (I’m trying really hard to find a healthy balance around time on my phone), did some Duolingo practice, and read a little bit of my book (both of these things are habits that I’m trying to practice daily). Then I got up and got ready for the rest of the day.

At one, I had a Zoom date with one of my best friends. We had a good catch up about what’s being going on for each of us, with many a tangent on kind of bizarre topics like alternate universes or the different sounds that insects make. And then we continued watching the TV series we’ve been watching together for the last few months, a series we both enjoyed when we were younger; we love it but we also love making fun of it so we always have a blast. We managed to watch two episodes and had a great time before I had to go. I didn’t have long before my therapy appointment so I got my bag ready and then fiddled around on my guitar until I had to leave (I haven’t been able to play for long stretches of time recently since I hurt a couple of my fingers so I’m trying to build it up again).

I was so tired and really sleepy (one of the ongoing symptoms of my health struggles and quite likely a side effect of my medication), plus my chronic pain was pretty bad (my shoulder and knee have been particularly painful for several days now), but I tried my best to push through and engage the best I could with therapy. In some ways, it was a fairly chilled session (as they go): my therapist had asked me to send her the poetry I’ve been working on over the last month or so, which I did. But it was also hard and I felt really vulnerable because most of the poems are so honest and so revealing. There were some that I said, before we even started, that I couldn’t talk about; just writing about those topics and sharing them (my anxiety about them was so high that I was really tempted to leave them out) was a big step forward. Obviously I want my therapist to know about these struggles but talking about them is beyond difficult (just the thought of it makes me want to scream or run or both); this is the best I can do for now. So we went through the poems, talking about what inspired them and my feelings about those people or experiences or struggles, which inevitably turned into bigger discussions. That meant that we didn’t get through all of them but we did cover some important stuff. I’ve been back at therapy for a while now – several months – but my new therapist is still getting to know me and I’m still getting comfortable with her; there are many things that I can talk about but there are still things that I can’t, things that I’ve never been able to. It’s a process, as I often have to remind myself.

Back home, I talked with my Mum about some of the stuff that had come up in the session but I’m always completely exhausted after therapy – I have been known to fall asleep on the sofa afterwards, hence the late afternoon appointments – so I checked in with the cats, put on The Good Place (my current rewatch), and lay on the sofa for a bit. I called one of my parents for a catch up, had some dinner, and then spent the rest of the evening working on some different things for this blog.

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What should’ve been a fairly pleasant evening was complicated a bit by how bad my hair pulling has gotten. That restless, anxious energy that drives me to keep doing it is so hard to resist, especially when I’m tired, and the longer I do it, the more it hurts: my scalp, my neck, my shoulder, my elbow, my hand. But I can’t stop. There have been periods of time where different coping mechanisms have at least reduced the amount of hair pulling but I don’t have one that’s working right now. It’s frustrating and it’s exhausting and painful but I just can’t stop, regardless of how much I want to. I did look into Hypnotherapy briefly a long time ago but didn’t get very far with that endeavour, maybe because it always felt like there were bigger things going on, but maybe I’ll try again because it’s been ten years and it would be really nice not to do this anymore.

Given how tired I was, I tried to go to bed earlier – I’ve been going to bed far too late – and while I did go to bed a bit earlier, I still ended up staying up too late, catching up with my diary. I had multiple cats curled up with me, which was very sweet, so it could’ve been worse and, after all of my problems with sleep, I did at least go to sleep quickly and easily; I’m always grateful for that now, having struggled so much over the last couple of years.

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So it wasn’t the most fascinating day of my life but it’s pretty accurate to my life right now and I guess that’s the point of the exercise. It’s a normal day in my life and this is what normal looks like right now, for the most part.

If you keep a diary or want to note down some thoughts about what your 12th of May looked like, the website is here, where you can learn more about this project (and their other work) and submit your entry if you would like to.

ESCAPRIL 2023 (With A Sprinkling of NaPoWriMo)

TW: Mentions of blood, injury, dermatillomania, and drug use.

April has come and gone and the poetry challenges – ESCAPRIL and NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) – are over. I am such a fan of these challenges and I keep meaning to seek out more of them; I love writing poetry but it tends to be the creative outlet that always slips down my list of priorities, just because there’s always so much to do. So a challenge or series of prompts is a great impetus to get writing again. I didn’t manage to write everyday, especially at the beginning of the month when I was still in Nashville and then releasing my new single, ‘House on Fire,’ but when I got into it, I couldn’t stop writing.

On the whole, I wrote more for ESCAPRIL than I did for Na PoWriMo. I think I was just more inspired by this year’s prompts from the former. Plus I think it’s fair to say that more of the NaPoWriMo prompts experiment with form and structure whereas ESCAPRIL focusses on content, the part of poetry writing that I find more exciting and fulfilling.

ESCAPRIL encourages participants to post their work on social media throughout the month but I’ve never engaged in that part of the challenge; doing the challenge is for me and my writing, although I do enjoy sharing some of my favourites at the end of the month. I mean, that’s why I do this blog post. But I can’t imagine posting a piece right after writing it, when it’s still soo fresh and raw; that sounds more than a little bit terrifying. Anyway…

Here are the prompts for 2023:

Here are a few of my favourites from the month. A lot of them weren’t comfortable to write – and now to read – but they feel raw and real and that’s what’s most important to me in poetry, especially my own…

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NaPoWriMo

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(Inspired, obviously, by the short film, The Nettle Dress.)

So there you have it, a handful of the poems I wrote throughout April, inspired by these two challenges. I feel like a lot of dark stuff comes out in my poetry, as well as stuff that I went through when I was younger, I think because I didn’t necessarily have the the emotional maturity to recognise what I was feeling or the language to describe those feelings. Some of them come from my present day brain though, working through stuff by writing about it. That is, after all, what writing poetry is for me, in whatever form that may take.