It's a milestone of sorts, and milestones
deserve a blog entry. I've actually been thinking on this since
before the New Year started, how best to commemorate the official end of my
twenties. I considered the top 30 most defining moments
in my life, but if we're being honest half of those are too dark for a happy
Birthday blog. Then there was the 30 most influential people
in my life this far, but there's way more then 30 and I don't have enough brain
power to narrow that list down...the first boy I kissed while listening to
Michael Jackson...the elementary school friends I dreamed of musical stardom
with...the high school drama teacher I always wanted to prove wrong...the
doctors who refused to take my illness seriously...(blah, blah, blah).
While reflecting though, a phrase kept coming to mind, 'this is
where it brought me'. It is a favorite quote and one I remind myself
of constantly, especially when remembering or experiencing less then savory moments
in life. It's also the words I have tattooed on my
foot. So, ah ha! A 'small'
recap on the beginning 3 decades of my life as told by the ink on my skin...
1. a heart
I decided that I wanted a tattoo for my 16th Birthday, really the last
Birthday I celebrated in a meaningful way. I remember I
initially drew out a butterfly and I remember how excited I was when my dad was
excited to take me. Luckily, I chickened
out. I hated needles more then
most things in my life, and I wanted to be so sure of the design I was getting
permanently etched onto my body. I remember passing a
note between my friends asking them to vote on which design they liked best,
and I remembering realizing that now I HAD to get a tattoo because I'd just
told every one I was getting one. It was nearly a year
later when my dad and I finally went downtown and I laid down, humming Mariah
Carey as loud as possible despite the blaring heavy metal screaming in the
background. I remember someone
mentioning how cool it was that a dad was getting a tattoo when we were
leaving, because at 16 I looked approximately 12 and 12 year olds don't get
tattoos. I ended up with a copy of
the heart I signed my name with (not as cliché as a butterfly, but still in one
of the more cliché spots to get a tattoo), and my mother screamed when we
finally showed her, on a beach in Florida a few months later when I asked for
sunscreen on my back. 
Self respect.
Self appreciation.
Self love.
A secret stamp of Self approval.
2. a
star
Its a little scary that I have to go back
through Facebook notes to remember which tattoo came next, and also a little
scary to think I'd gotten 3 before leaving high school!
The star in the palm of my hand might still be
my favorite out of all my tattoos, that opinion likely being influenced by the
fact that it's the most complimented tattoo I have. It's the
most unique skin space out of all my tattoos, many parlors don't tattoo the
palms or soles of the feet because the quality can't be guaranteed. And
despite mine being done at some sketchy little joint by a shirtless guy on his
smoke break, it actually looks pretty great 10 years later. A few
girlfriends wanted piercings, so we all skipped school one warm afternoon and
drove to this place that was shut down soon after. I was
just there for moral support (and because I hated Math class anyways) but the
guy took 10 minutes and the $40 in my wallet, and I was in love. The words
behind it were the greatest souvenir that came home with me after our grade 12
graduation trip to the Dominican. It healed
in the grossest way, and my boyfriend at the time was way less impressed then
I'd hoped, but I can now ask my baby, 'where is the star?' and he opens my
hands.
No matter how far, and far apart dreams and real futures feel, no matter how far he or she is from your heart, we are all tucked in by the same stars every night. You can cry, and you can kick, or you can merely reach a little higher and realize, the stars are just as simply in the palm of your hand.
3. naked
The tattoo on the back of my neck started a
personal trend, personal poetry inspiring ink. I've
found poems that I've written in journals when I was in grade 2 (the first was
a very dramatic piece about a heart SMASHING into a million pieces after being
stood up at the prom...) and it has served a great purpose throughout my life. Granted
(like Adele and Taylor Swift) the majority of my works are inspired my less
then happy feelings and happenings, I have always been very proud of the words
that come out of me. Proud enough to tattoo them on the outside.
Naked is a poem that was inspired by my sudden desire to be more
honest with myself and about myself, while the pressure to simply fit in was as
always overwhelming in high school. I
admitted certain things, and I was surprised by the backlash. There are
certainly moments where society makes it harder to be proud of who you are, and
I think that's the reason this poem has remained one of my most prized.
on my chest
on my wrist often overlooked,
are just a state of mind.
In accumulation
I've been broken down.
In time
I've been able to strip down.
Finally
here is my raw canvas.
Suddenly
the world and it's colors decide to clash.
My feet are bare
to the glass paved busy streets
and there is nothing left
to protect my skin
from Life's ever changing weather.
I'm naked
But I'm not the one who's cold.
4.
this is where it brought me
High school was over, my physical illness
hadn't quite taken control of things yet, but I was proud of how well if
overcome/ learned to deal with my depression. I found
myself inside a new circle of friends thanks to a new and out of town
boyfriend. I was terrified and embarrassed when I first
attempted to explain parts of my last to the new guy (the way he reacted was
actually a red flag that I chose to ignore, oh hindsight), but afterwards I had
a revelation. A surprising number of shitty, shitty things
happened to me and around me in the 4.5 years I attended high school but all of
those shitty things added up to the wonderful thing that I felt I was after
escaping that place. The things I endured had created he most
remarkable empathy within me, a trait I hold dearly. Those
shitty things solidified some of my strongest beliefs, and they made me a
worthy fighter.
Considering how great my star still looks, the words on my foot look
terrible. In my opinion! The phrase arching
with my natural arch was a pretty brilliant move (again, my opinion) but that
skin apparently did not want to be tattooed. I actually had the
words redone a few years later, and the exact same spots refused to hold any
ink while healing. My husband says the worn
look is fitting, considering the sentiment. 
and beneath
beneath and barely humming
kissed with eyes chocking shut
denial over heart.
Vows kindled some forest fire
while I was simply swimming in waves
upon waves
upon posture
upon waves
where fire doesn’t exist no matter how hard you doused
upon waves
in that gasoline.
Hope catapulted one million
doses
away
a passport stamped by creeps
Saturn
my creator and back.
Washed
rinsed
echoed
pretendingly sufficient smiles.
Corrosion
and murder
to death
to dust floating in the brightest sunshine
gracefully tanning the strongest brow
worth every bleeding penny
in an overflowing pocket.
This is where it brought me
and I am home in this.
5. the
light at the end of a tunnel
The tattoo on my left wrist is something I drew
inspired by a poem that was (embarrassingly enough) inspired by the breakup of
my post-high school relationship. I was
sad, and admittedly I crave tattoos when I'm feeling big feelings. To be
honest, I remember half joking, 'I want that pain, but a tattoo would be far
more socially acceptable then cutting myself.' This
boyfriend was in no way worth hurting myself over, but it was the first time in
a long time that I craved that I'd even thought about that kind of physical release. Ironically
by that point in my life the scars on my wrist were finally starting to fade
and I realized I wanted to commemorate them.
I was on my college bestie's couch
in the middle of the night when I sketched this little box on the back of
something in my binder.
From here to there
seems one million miles away
Here is hollow
and lonely in bed
and thinking about the life and dreams that come true there
There is hope
It's a straight line
from here to there
but the lights are off
and Love erased all street signs
so don't judge me for not running
I know there is where I finish
I know there
is there
I have mustered the fire
to take the first step
the light is that much closer
and we will collide
one sunrise
just like that
seems one million miles away
Here is hollow
and lonely in bed
and thinking about the life and dreams that come true there
There is hope
It's a straight line
from here to there
but the lights are off
and Love erased all street signs
so don't judge me for not running
I know there is where I finish
I know there
is there
I have mustered the fire
to take the first step
the light is that much closer
and we will collide
one sunrise
just like that
6. breathe and love
When Endometriosis Really kicked in I
struggled with many things. Being so physically ill made my anxiety unbearable
and not knowing why I was so physically ill was suffocating. There was
a lot of 'why me' and 'why bother'. There was a lot of guilt and embarrassment. I
questioned everything and everyone, and one day I came across the only real
answers I'd ever need.
We come across situations that boil down to big questions. Big questions that we assume require big answers. But the answers are simple, even in, especially in the midst of an attack. Breathe, and love. They are the answers to all our biggest ponders. No matter how much easier it may be not to, we need to choose to breathe. No matter how much smarter it may be not to, we need to choose to love. At the end of the day, at the end of it all, we are blessed with the ability to breath, and the opportunity to love. It’s what humans have in common. Love makes it easier to breathe, and breathing makes it possible to love. No matter how frustrating, or dangerous, or terrifying, or painful it may be, breathe and love. Always breathe, and always love.
7. hold on
The tattoo on my right wrist took a while to
get. While I'd finally received my diagnosis, and
I'd found ways to cope with my anxiety, I still spent most of my time sick and
alone in the bathroom. With my arms wrapped around my middle (my
right wrist the most visible) I'd always remind myself to hold on. And then
usually end up singing that epic Mr. Big tune, 'hold on little girl, show me
what he's done to you, stand up little girl, a broken heart can't be that
bad...' My heart
has reserved a very special spot for that song ever since I first heard it on
my last day of Kindergarten. I figured it was a reminder worthy of being
permanent.
Hold on
because
you are her,
the brave
the beautiful
leader
of a lonely army.
You know you can
and you need to,
I know
you want to
so
hold on.
8. dreams do
After getting just about a tattoo a year, it
was a long time before my (currently) last tattoo came to be. I've
compiled ideas, images and words that I'd love but realized I was running out
of unique and fairly discreet skin to etch them on, and u knew that I'd want a
tattoo to commemorate my baby(ies) whenever that might happen.
It did happen, and it took me
almost a year to decide on words from a poem that I'd written while he was
still in my tummy. It's in
the crook of my arm where his head continues to fall asleep nearly every single
night, and I had it done while we wandered New York City as a perfect little
family. It is by
far the warmest, and fullest, and happiest sentiment as far as tattoo
inspirations go. Which I
suppose sums up where it has all taken me, in 3 decades. I'm still sick, I still have anxious days, parenting is tough
and I hate winter, but I am entering my 30s as a warm, and full, and happy
woman.
dreams do
come fiercely true
through love
and sex
and magic
pure magic
shiny
fairytale magic
growing
swimming
and all mine
under a beating heart
dreams
realized
waiting to be born
for to be born
is to come true
in a world
far more beautiful
then when we fell asleep
