Today was what we call a loaded day. It's my wedding anniversary, it had the potential to go either very very right, or very very wrong. Fortunately I did something I rarely have the smarts to do....I planned ahead. I decided today that I was going to church come hell or highwater and I was going to stay the whole service. I'd previously made an attempt, but couldn't stop the tears and left the building. Today was a double whammy, being in the building where I was married, where my children were baptized, on the date of my marriage 12 years prior. However I did it! I made it! I felt tears coming a few times, but I stuck it through. Well I did miss the sermon due to fussy baby, but the point is, I didn't leave in tears. I also made a vow to myself in church to strive to move forward and to love myself as I should from this point forward.
With that under my belt, my inlaws (I think I'll always call them my inlaws) took the lil'uns for a hike with the ex and I spent my time getting supplies for the week, doing a bit of tidying up and I even took a soak in the tub, oh yes, in the vein of loving myself, I also went to get some awesome Hakka food (diet be damned) and found an amazing deal on Moroccan Oil!
Fast forward a few hours later, I'm up on a table with my leg on fire. After 17 years of wanting one, I bit the bullet and got a tattoo. I had been thinking of getting one for a few years, but could never think of what to get. However after some thought during these hard months, I thought that a phoenix would be the order of the day. I've had to reinvent myself in so many ways and I needed something to symbolize it. Everything fell into place really perfectly. On my anniversary of my marriage gone down in flames (sorry for the dramatics, I'm going somewhere with this), I'm going to go get a phoenix tattoo.
I went back to my home to have it done, the artist was on the solid recommendation of my downtown family, and believe me, they would know. Since I'm a wuss, someone I love dearly and consider part sister, part aunt held my hands the whole time. Despite the pain (and it fucking hurt, everyone who told me it wouldn't, y'all are nothing but a bunch of lying liars who lie!) I loved every moment. I felt safe, loved and supported in only that way family can. We shared many laughs, stories and winces on my part.
I just now had an emotional moment thinking about it. It's been happening a bit lately, it's a good sign, even if it does have me reaching for the tissues. I'm blessed that I'm overwhelmed with emotion because I'm starting to truly feel safe and loved again.
My safety duck, courtesy of a sweet 18 month old. lol
The pain, while not enjoyable was also symbolic for me, because in order to have this beautiful design on me forever, I am going to have to go through some pain. Likewise with my life, to be this beautiful strong woman I know is in there, I'm going to have to go through some pain...a lot of pain. lol That said, a teenager wise beyond her years remarked that I would feel a sense of peace afterward, and she's right, I do, it's like it belongs here, though I nearly scared the daylights out of me walking past my mirror and seeing this bird staring at me. That's going to take some getting used to.
Many thanks to John Bertrand for the amazing vision, skilled hands, patience and sense of humour to make this happen. I'm so not looking forward to the fill, but no pain, no gain. I think I'm definitely going to be that "one tattoo" type of person. Thank goodness it's so awesome.