As my husband enjoyed a leisurely morning, I bustled around attending to one little task after another. I had packed a lot into the day, and when he engaged in conversation, I indicated to him that we had a busy day ahead of us and we, emphasis on the WE but really directed at HE, needed to get moving. I then gave a rolling hand gesture to underline my point. Did he think the dogs were going to walk themselves?!
It was like a red cape to the bull of the Universe.
Hurrying down the stairs with my basket of laundry, I contemplated the next thing to tackle and found myself lying almost at the bottom of the stairs writhing in pain. My son who had heard a large series of bangs ran out to find me covered in laundry still writhing. Asking if I was okay, I laughed (because today the body chose hysteric laughter to crying) and waved him off. It was the kind of pain that you need people to give you a minute through before you can properly respond. I started walking it off hoping it would stop hurting so much and thought…
That’s going to leave a mark.
As an aside, I will say that I received a great deal of sympathy from our dogs when I fell down the stairs. Lizzie pushed past me while writhing and waited at the door hoping to go for a walk, and Ronnie stood behind me on the stairs with an expression that said “Glad it wasn’t me this time.”
Jerks.
***
Speaking of leaving a mark.
So I did it. After much delay, I finally got my tattoo, and I absolutely love it. Never in my life have I entertained the idea of getting a tattoo somewhere on my body where it is easily visible. There is just nothing I felt I would like to commit to visually and permanently enough. Sure there were faces of special dogs and people and the socially appropriate “I love Mom” tattoo I could get on my arm, but I prefer to hold people and animals in my heart rather than on my body.
But something changed when I started to approach my 50th birthday. I started to want to commit to something. Being a person who is consistently inconsistently, I had the desire to etch something solid into my skin, part identity, part future goal, part reminder.
But desire is often not enough…you need action. And lucky me to be married to someone who listens to the things I say and decides to take them seriously even if I get stuck on the action part.
On my birthday, I was informed that I was to get in the car, ask no questions, and go for a ride. It was a long ride ending up parked out a tattoo parlor in a seedy end of town.
And then my husband introduced me to Paul.
Covered in tattoos with a long beard that reached midway down his body and held together neatly with multiple elastics wearing leather, I was not sure that Paul was the guy who would love my vision. It seemed to me that he would prefer dragons and snakes compared to what I had planned. Even checking his portfolio online seemed to support that he liked scary ancient masks.
So we talked. And like all things I was once again reminded that the cover just accentuates the book, and once again, the book was just as fascinating as the cover. Paul was warm, reassuring, and open. I liked him immediately and felt completely comfortable describing what I had been designing in my head for the past year.
We parted ways with promises of sketches to be sent and future discussions.
Then Paul sent me my first draft, and admittedly, I was very disappointed. It was nothing like the image I had in my head. In fact, it was completely different. I wondered if I should start anew with another tattooist or walk it through. I decided that advocating for myself would be part of the journey and that no artist could ever know what was in my head because even my spouse couldn’t stay on top of all that crazy so to expect a perfect stranger to was unfair.
With trepidation, I re-approached Paul, and he warmly and enthusiastically participated in a series of back and forth ending up with a final design that I was happy with.
On the day of the tattoo session, I was excited, anxious, and eager to get it over with. No one embraces pain. In fact since childbirth, I have committed myself to avoiding pain at all costs. To actively choose to embrace it seemed foolhardy, but sometimes you want the thing more than to avoid the pain, and sometimes you want to put the thing that caused the pain back, but once out in the world, it’s a no return policy. But I digress.
Now tattooing feels like someone is taking a needle and dragging it lightly through your skin…it’s painful but not unbearable. Paul and I both mutually agreed to just focus on our tasks…him inking…me zenning my way through pain…without the small talk. As many of you know hair salon appointments and the small talk involved are the bane of getting my hair trimmed (and the secret reason I have long hair) so this delightful moment of mutual honesty was very welcome.
While Paul was working, his long beard tied up in multiple elastics brushed against my hand. I had to resist the urge to tug it like a pulley summoning the bellhop.
Oh and pain, I forgot about it as I got lost in my own thoughts. Sure I would come back to it now and again, but it was interesting to me that it didn’t stay the main focus of my attention for that hour and a half. Our brain is a marvelous distractor.
And this was the end result…
A description of my tattoo is the word grace written with a feather pen containing initials. Here’s the breakdown.
The word Grace - I have written about grace before. Grace is so many things. It is love, it is humility, it is magnificence, it is acceptance, it is non-judgement, it is kindness. It’s all the character traits I want to embody and fail at often. It’s what I want to give to myself and in doing so be able to give to others. Perhaps etching into my skin will have it seep into my soul.
Feather - Feathers have always been a mystical sign for me. They can be anything from a reminder of a loved one lost to a Universal nod about a path I am embarking on. It’s a connection to the divine, to something bigger than myself. Maybe you don’t go for all that woo woo and I respect that. I will say though it adds an element of magic to living and a thrill every time I see one.
MMCR - Initials of my family.
Pen - It has only been in the last decade that I have started writing again after a 20 year hiatus. I see improvement from the beginning, less time spent ruminating in “I’m so awful” and more time spent knowing I have lots to learn. This is progress from self-flagellation to being a student…an abusive mind to an open one. I have also shared my writing with more people in the last few years…another leap of growth. This has been an unexpected gift. The generosity of other humans in supporting another’s creative work is astounding.
Blue - My favorite color.
I will say this tattoo is nothing that I envisioned in my head, and it makes me love it even more. I feel like it is a shared vision which has made the final product even more special.
Thank you, husband. Thank you, Paul.
***
Lying at the bottom of the stairs was the final (I hope!) event of a tough year, but it did remind me that:
I have no physical GRACE.
Slow down and savor the present.
So that is what I wish for you this holiday season. May you slow down and savor your gatherings, your alone time, your loved ones, your laundry, your stairs, and take some time to contemplate the marks left by this year, both the good and the bittersweet, and what new ones you want to etch into 2025.
I know I will be…with ice.
Happy Holidays!
Grace is love that seeks you out when you have nothing to give in return. Grace is love coming at you that has nothing to do with you. Grace is being loved when you are unloveable. It is being loved when you are the opposite of lovable.
- Unknown
Beautiful Things
This week’s mention is a podcast called Calm Christmas by Beth Kempton. If you want to listen to something in an English accent while wrapping gifts by the fire, this is it. A blend of poetry, memories, recipes, crafts, traditions, and more, it’s a glimpse into the Christmas of my dreams in story form. It’s the closest I’ve come this season to almost crafting. Luckily, I came to my senses and instead wrote about my posterior.
This is the Spotify link to Calm Christmas.
Ouch!...love the tattoo and the journey to get there!