WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Marisa - pronounced ma-REES-ah
I have a beautiful name. I didn’t always think this, but as I grow older I appreciate more and more its uniqueness. As a child I hated my name. I hated that other kids couldn’t pronounce it, hence I earned the nick name “Meecie,” or “Meece”, as my father continued to call me until he passed away when I was 40.
I hated that every time I got off the school bus at the end of the day, I was taunted with “Meecie Mouse, get in your house,” by the other kids.
I hated that there was no one who shared my name, and I longed for a more common name, like Julie or Katie or Linda…any damn name but Marisa, although I see the name Marisa popping up quite often in recent years.
I hated that all throughout school my teachers continued to call me
Ma-riss-sa and I had to correct them over and over again until they finally got it right, only to repeat the process all over again when a new school year meant a new teacher.
As an adult, I just gave up and for the most part ignored it when people miss-pronounced my name, especially those whom I was unlikely to meet again, but I have began lately to assert myself and not settle for being called by any other name.
My name was bestowed on me by my mother, not at birth, but at some later date. On my birth certificate and baptismal certificate, I was registered as “Marcia,” but for reasons of her own my mother started to call me Marisa. It was the only name I knew until I turned 16 and needed my birth certificate to apply for my beginner’s licence.
I’m not sure how my name change came about. One theory is that my mother read my name in a book after my birth and liked it so much she started using it. Another is that she wanted to name me Marisa from the start but bowed to pressure from her mother-in-law to choose a more acceptable name. I will never know. It is just one more of many questions I wish I had asked my mother when I had the chance.
Is it any wonder I have an identity complex. It made for a lot of confusion, remembering what name to sign on documents, to the point I had my name legally changed to what I had grown up with, Marisa, a name I now love and plan to keep. Perhaps some day it will be passed down to a future grandchild or great-grandchild.
The meaning of the name Marisa is - Sea Of Bitterness
The origin of the name Marisa is Italian
The meaning of my name, Sea Of Bitterness, is not a true depiction of my character or nature. I am not a sea of bitterness... a kiddie pool maybe from time to time, but most certainly not an ocean.