I’m being jabbed with needles. Voluntarily. Full of pain,and color, and beauty, and therapy. Yes. Therapy. Tattoo therapy.
Life is hard and sometimes I just need some physical pain to overshadow my brain. Do you get it? Not many do. But here I am laying on a table, trying not to flinch as a man puts ink into my very white skin.
I think thoughts like “Oh, there you are self. Feeling something real and controllable. Something that will hurt, but be beautiful in the end.” And it will. I have been coming here, and getting tattooed for a few months. We have planned out a leg full! This is the third and largest one so far. It has some of me in it, and some of my daughter. She’s had a hard time too and as her mommy I hurt so bad for her. Life is rough, and she has had it a bit harder. She developed health issues by the time she was one, and she has be haunted by issues ever since. It’s hard to watch, but more on that some other time.
Tattoos have kept me from cutting. From self harm and self destruction. It is way to feel and not harm. And I love it! I get something wonderful for my pain. I get artwork, and expression all over my leg. It’s turning something harsh into something fresh, and new, and full of creativity. It’s also hours that I get to sit, and think, or not think. I can work on line, or read, or just rest the whole time. Hours just for me. Tattoo therapy is a wonderful thing for where I am at in my life. It is amazing how much I see me coming through.