The Name That Roared

The Name “Storm” - A Story of Rebirth

I was born with a name that meant motherhood. It carried warmth and tradition, one passed down with love, but as I grew older, it became a mirror I couldn’t bear to look into. Childhood trauma etched itself into my experience of womanhood and endometriosis - quietly cruel - took its toll not only on my body, but on my identity.

At age 23, I came out to my family. That moment was my first lightning strike - illuminating the truth, no matter the storm it awakened. With that act of courage came something unexpected: the need for a new name. Not just a fresh label, but a full transformation. I wasn’t leaving a closet - I was shedding a skin.

Interestingly, “Storm” didn’t just rise from my inner reckoning - it also emerged from playful necessity. My birth name was shared by so many others, including a few of my closest friends, that we often joked we needed a roster just to get through a conversation. In that sea of repetition, I craved something that stood out and truly reflected me. Back then, my love for DC & Marvel made Storm the obvious choice - powerful, iconic and unapologetically fierce. What started as a nickname among friends, quickly evolved into something much more sacred. It wasn’t just easier - it was more true!

The name Storm came from a visceral place. I didn’t choose it, because it sounded dramatic - I chose it, because it felt accurate. My rebirth was not neat or poetic. It thrashed, it roared, it tore through everything false and left only what was honest. Yet, in that chaos, there was beauty and in the aftermath, there was peace. I was finally me!

Years after I’d already become Storm, I came across Jill Austin’s Master Potter. In it, I found a passage that resonated with uncanny alignment - a depiction of being reshaped, remolded and refined by fire. It was as if my story had been waiting in those pages all along. Austin’s words didn’t create Storm; they confirmed her.

Storm is not a rejection of my past - it’s a reclamation. A name that holds the rage, the grace and the cleansing truth of my transformation. Storm is every gust that knocked me down and every whisper that lifted me up again.

I’m proud of the mess, proud of the beauty and proud of the name that carries it all!