From Riches to Rags, and the Glory I Found There

  You know, despite my tattoos...and piercings...and partially shaved head...I never considered that my look was very "alternative". At least not until someone said it was. I just thought that I was expressing myself in ways I might not have before. *I* like how I look...and I guess, if I'm being honest, what other people might think just doesn’t really factor into anything I do. But certainly not in the sense that I expect everyone to love everything about it all. My poor mom dislikes tattoos, my brother makes fun of my hair, and lots of people have said "oh...it's not quite my thing".  I never expected people to like these things about me the way I like them about me. I am not particularly bothered if it’s not your thing. It doesn't offend me. I'm not asking you to get a tattoo...or a piercing...or to shave your head. *I* did it because *I* wanted to...you just didn't factor into it. That being said...I've never been judged so...interesting...

  I’ve gotten a few tattoos since John died. It’s been very therapeutic and healing every time I’ve gone in with a vision and come out with a permanent scar on my body that represents an aspect of my life and my healing.  But today…today I made some mistakes. And now those mistakes are represented on my body in a very permanent way.  Hard things have been building in my life for weeks. I’ve consistently struggled with deep and heavy emotions, sometimes feeling like they come out of nowhere. Small things have felt too heavy. Minor inconveniences have felt unconquerable. And yet, somehow I was able to truck along. I took care of things, I handled things, I was brave and strong and all the things I needed to be.  Until I wasn’t.  I got an okay tattoo from a man who was rude and arrogant and hurtful from the very start of our session together. There were ways I could have corrected the situation but, honestly, I was incapable of even processing through the kind of e...