The Two Tattoos

We are a few months away from the 3 year anniversary of the car accident and I love leaving it further and further behind. We all have physical scars, but I took some of mine to the very next level and today I'm going to tell the story and truths behind those scars.

Our wonderful lawyer kept us out of the courtroom for our whole car accident litigation. It was a rough learning experience for me and really overwhelming on top of my kid in a wheelchair and busted up husband in pain. I had head staples and bruises, but no other physical injuries that were extensive enough to claim much of anything, and when we had the mediation, I'll never forget the other lawyer, condescendingly coming to tell me the worst of the news.

My husband and daughter were well taken care of. Besides the head staples and bruises, I walked away with an epic case of PTSD that to this day still comes at me sometimes, but that's not much cause for any part in litigation. When they started talking about the division of funds and hospital bills coverage the other lawyer said, "Well, you didn't really have extensive enough injuries, nor did you have a real hospital stay for you to be awarded much for the case."

I had to hold my tongue until he left the room and then whispered to my husband, "I'm sorry, you're not damaged enough? Is that what he just said?" My husband just did his calm down quelling and sighed at me. My anger and anxieties flared into a momentary frenzy of, "Yeah she was left with a kid in a wheelchair and a husband in constant pain needing shoulder surgery and all the stress of everything else, having to re-potty train her kid, cleaning, getting her daughter in and out of the wheelchair, getting up to give her more tylenol for her broken legs because her husband's broken ribs wouldn't allow him to physically help, and I almost got out in the middle of highway 19 a week after the car accident in a traumatic panic attack being near the scene, I have nightmares, but sure it's all fine right!?? YOU'RE NOT DAMAGED ENOUGH!???"

I sighed feeling defeated but signed away all the things just wanting to be done with everything. We later had a one on one with a judge after my daughter's second surgery, the drama having spanned almost 8 months, and I just wanted it to be over and done.

It was in the midst of all of this and all the mayhem that I reconnected with my music. As ridiculous as this may sound, it was Hanson that completely saved me when I revisited their album, "Underneath." I've found that, especially since the car accident, too many of my favorite bands and artists songs, have completely new, and relevant meaning in current time frames and I've intensely embraced them. We'll come back to this part later.

Still being angry that I was somehow made to be inferior in comparison and unscathed from the accident, I decided, "Oh, I'll show you some pain from the accident alright. I can take the pain."

I'm not sure what about me sends the message of "Wuss," but I can physically handle more than most people think I can. In fact the only time I think I deserve "wuss" status is anywhere near a snake, not joking, I am insanely, panic-attack-worthy, terrified of snakes. Anything non-snakey, I am a boss.

I actually have a higher tolerance for pain, it's a redhead thing I guess. I pushed out my child with no drugs, yes, a completely natural birth. I've hurt myself often and power through, although have never had a broken bone, just sprains. My back tattoo hurt a lot when I was 18, but I didn't cry or complain. With this in mind, that's where I went, back to the tattoo parlor to get a dose of pain.

The first tattoo I got was kind of a 3-fer. In the wake of the accident I'd really begun to embrace and discuss my depression and anxiety. Mental health stuff was becoming more "normalized" and I was on board with all of that. I think most people were waiting for me to have a meltdown anyway. During this time also, the semicolon movement was gaining traction:

When I found this, it touched me and I felt really connected to it from every walk of my life. I'd struggled with depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts in my youth and now PTSD so many reasons why I would relate. I started looking at tattoo designs. For Project Semicolon or the semicolon movement the hook was "My story isn't over yet." So yeah, I could claim I was a writer, but if you know me, you know I could never survive this life without my music.

Ironically, I failed at all of my lessons besides voice lessons, so I never played music successfully, only sang. But I am the most music-obsessed, avid concert-goer, you will ever meet. The closest to a pure spiritual experience I have every had, would be in the presence of live music.

So a friend of a friend had a friend of a friend who's dad owned a tattoo studio super close by with great prices and she helped me come up with this:

Behind my ear, this was my treble clef semi-colon design to say, "My song wasn't over yet." As a 3-fer it was, music related, trauma related, and supported mental health awareness. It was cute, simple and affordable. All of my tattoos embody one rule: make sure it very much cover-up-able. When I was still working at the dealership, this was a very important rule. Getting this tattoo was the first of three that I would get in the next year, but the first in my important music-themed healing process.

Once I had this little one, I wanted more and bigger! I'd done that thing that 18 year old people do and gotten my first tattoo on my lower hip-tummy area at age 18, maybe even the day of. It was a super nerdy Lord of the Rings related tattoo; yeah I know. I can feel the laughs and eye rolls. Anywho, it was pretty silly so I decided I wanted to get it covered by my next one.

Back to my Hanson re-kindling of a love affair; I've outed myself as a legit Hanson fan before. I have NO shame about this. Listen to their entire catalog because they are amazing musicians and songwriters, and you can't argue that, I'll win, trust me. When I am in my darkest places, I always go back to Hanson, and they always clear the clouds above me and remind me of what I need to push through. 

I'd been repeating the same few songs with them post-accident including many off of their 2004 release, "Underneath." Somehow I kept revisiting mostly just tracks from this one and I remembered the awesome album pamphlet containing this:

The first song on the album is called "Strong Enough to Break," and the lyrics are: 

It soon became my theme song. Over and over, "I start feeling strong enough to break! Things keep coming and I keep stumbling..." Over and over. Then I would turn on the title track, "Underneath," over and over:

It was like they were singing to just me, about just me, but not in the romanticized way from my childhood. It was as if they were saying, "Hey, you've been through a lot and you're still going. You got this!" Lastly from Hanson's 2007 album, The Walk, came the final inspiration from, "Been There Before."

This song is about their experiences with other songs and their familiarity. The chorus sings: 

Tell me does it move you

Does it soothe you

Does it fill your heart and soul with the

Roots of rock and roll

Does it move you

Does it soothe you

Does it fill your heart and soul with the

Roots of rock and roll

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

When you can't get through it

You can listen to it

With a na na na na

Well I've been there before

So finally I had all the pieces of the puzzle for my next tattoo and I had the artist working on all my ideas. When she finally got it together it came out like this:

This tattoo is now over my old one and right on my tummy-hip area and it hurt, badly. Somehow after the accident I just thought that I need to prove that I really was hurt too, even if it wasn't on medical records. I'm sure that's some text book psychology shit right there, but one Thursday evening, with a new YouTube-uploaded Hanson song repeating over and over, I got inked.

 

I kept singing internally and playing this song on my phone, repeatedly when it hurt. Even my tattoo artist was like, "You are a brave lady, this spot really really hurts." The next morning working out and at work was ouchie, to say the least but I love this tattoo so much. 

It's not in a spot people really get to see, which is kind of another reason why I like it. It's just for me, and something to keep my healing process real. From time to time when people see it they are like..."Do I know that song?" And I'm always like, "Uh, maybe?" 

For my best friend when I got this she was so in love with it and proud of me because I put myself through some pain to inevitably heal the pain from the whole experience. But also, we love Hanson together so, she was pretty impressed I think, haha. When I can't get through it I DO listen to it. When I'm at my worst, I am making playlists and over-playing songs that help me make sense of things.

Music has always been my rock. Every era of my life has a distinct soundtrack and these two tattoos are the reminders I literally carry with me as a whole part of me that I chose. I know some people are like, "Hanson, seriously?" But I could share my whole Hanson fan-ship story and blow you all away because, if you know me, the Hanson tattoo wouldn't be surprising or weird, in fact it was overdue.

I love these two tattoos because I think they are almost kinds of war wounds from everything but they are also so awesomely Alison, which is something I struggle with. I very much struggle with embracing everything about myself, and these "inkings" are visible reminders of all that is me. Do yourself a favor and get at least one tattoo in your life, if you can stop there, that is, and listen to Hanson immediately. For some of you, one may be more painful than the other!

Even Into Adulthood I Still Have Anxiety About Getting My Blood Drawn

I remember liking my pediatrician, hating tetanus shots, but not even going to the doctor very often as a kid. As a preacher's kid, I was constantly dragged to nursing homes and hospitals to visit with the sick and cheer them up, and my mom was a bereavement counselor for Hospice that specialized in kids losing their parents to cancer. I always associated doctors with the "sick" or not well. I never had a positive outlook on things medical, I guess. 

After a year with my mom and no doctors appointments ever attended, my dad took me to the doctor a bunch when I moved back in with him when I was 17. I always hated getting my blood drawn because it always hurt. And often I remember sharing my anxiety about it and getting met with annoyed nurses. No one was nice about it. My veins were and always will be hard to find and it always was so uncomfortable.

My dad used to have to bribe me with breakfast at my favorite restaurant to get me to wake up early and go in without complaint. I would have rather been in class and he knew it. It was always a game.

Now, I can handle pain. I can get tattoos like a champ and I pushed a baby out of me without even a Tylenol, completely natural. My mom said I'd never be able to have a natural birth; the joke was on her! But something about the instant bruising and draining feeling and how uncomfortable the whole process makes me, just causes me immense stress and discomfort. You'll never see me on the Big Red bus, just saying.

When I was pregnant they draw your blood a lot. I remember when they had to do a large draw and I just sat there crying in pain. At least the women were nice about it for once. I made my husband buy me a treat after and then he put me down for a nap. 

This far into my adulthood, and we finally have mostly-decent insurance. We're also at that age where we have to make sure we are mostly healthy. Last year I had to have my blood drawn for a normal panel. They made me fast and by the time I got to the diagnostics place I was hungry and thirsty and tired. I told the phlebotomist, "My veins are hard to fine, sorry." She did the normal routine and said, "Oh honey, don't watch me. Don't. Okay?" I bruised instantly and was sore but mostly hungry.

The next blood test they could only draw from my hand and they instantly blew out my vein. It looked like my hand aged to 94 and it was insanely sore. It stayed bruised for 3 weeks.Not my best experience to day. 

This morning, the third time's the charm, but I just had high anxiety. At first the woman seemed okay and then she got a tone with me because, in my nervousness and anxiety, I'd had only coffee but no food or water because I didn't "have to fast," but was too nervous to eat. Coffee was like a pre-game treat for impending trauma.

Two rubber bands on my arm and the lady was slightly irritated even though I disclosed the hard-to-find-veins issue. I told her my dad used to bribe me. She softened, "I can give you a sticker if you want." I looked away when she poked and prodded, winced and it was completely over, no blown out vein. I said, "You're very good at your job, thank you." She told me to be careful with that arm and sent me off to work.

I don't know why I'm such a wuss about this stuff but I just am. Redheads have a higher pain tolerance and I can get shots no problem, but something about the blood drawing just makes me want to run away forever. You'd think with age it would lessen but it seemingly just stays the same. Even an IV at the hospital makes me squeamish.

When we got in the car accident and my head was bleeding I needed 5 staples. It was only the last two I said, "Ouch, okay OW!" Every other pain I could handle. They even had to practically rip an earring out of my cartilage so I could get all the tests to make sure I was okay internally. I wouldn't even have Tylenol after the accident or take my prescribed pain meds, because I wanted to be alert and could push through the discomfort. And in the mediation for the car accident claim, they said my injuries weren't extensive enough to claim excess medical benefits and basically I didn't get hurt "enough." So I got two new tattoos in some strange retaliation move. One of them really hurt!

It's not the pain. I think it's psychological. It has always been harrowing and uncomfortable and stressful. So I psych myself out and make it a big thing. I'm sure there are people on couches in therapy with the same issues, but for me, I just do what I can to avoid the whole thing at all costs. Hopefully this will be my only poke this year, but I maintain that adulting is hard, growing up sucks, and I hate getting my blood drawn. Oh well, at least I got a blog out of it!

Challenge 9: Piercing and Tattoos? OH YES!

I got my nose pierced when I was 16, I think. Of course my mom gave me permission and they money. I loved it and I had a cute little stud. I actually liked the needle better than the guns they used on my ears. I promised myself tattoos when I turned 18.

I love them both as artistic expressions of yourself and permanent reminders of whatever you were feeling around their entrance onto your body. My first tattoo was something really ridiculous in Elvish...Lord of the Rings was THE SERIES when I was in High School okay? And yes I knew the nerds who could read and speak it. People speak Kling-on, don't judge!

Then I saved up and got an Orchid tramp stamp on my lower back. I literally got that back tattoo not a month before the "Tramp Stamp" phrase ran rampant across all cult classic movies and trendy comedies. I don't regret the gorgeous work, but the placement is boring and typical.

When I was 18, I also got a nose ring right next to my stud, like an actual hoop though. I rocked this look and miss it daily. When living in Eugene, Oregon for college, piercings are tantamount to spiritual growth.

When I was 19, my cousin's boyfriend was a piercer at my favorite piercing and tattoo shop. I wanted to get my eyebrow pierced, the one opposite the side of my nose that was pierced. He did it and it hurt like hell. He then said "wait, let me just see something for symmetry." I felt him put the dots on my second eyebrow. "No, I don't want two, I said. Ouch." He said, yeah but I just want to see because I think you could rock both with your nose piercings like you would look bad ass so let me just look."

SNAP! "Ow, motherfucker that hurt!," I cried! "See, symmetry?," He said. "They look awesome. No charge for the second one." I did rock them for about 6 months by my body physically rejected them and they wouldn't heal properly.

After age 20 I didn't do anything else until my thirties. I took out my piercings when I was 24 because we got married and then moved across the country well aware that no piercings would make the job hunt much easier. I dislike that a stud or ring in your nose or any kind of piercing or tattoo plays any part in judging your ability to do anything but it's the sad truth.

From 32 to 33 I got 3 tattoos after a traumatic car accident. The first one is meant to be a treble clef semicolon signifying the semicolon movement for suicide and depression awareness. The slogan for that movement is "My story isn't over yet," but even as a writer I have more of a musical obsession so I wanted it to signify "My song isn't finished playing yet." It is behind my ear.

Shortly after that one I covered my lower hip elvish tattoo with a favorite album cover and quote from my favorite band, with which I have NO SHAME and NO REGRET, judge if you must...Hanson...and it reads, "If you can't get through it, you can listen it it." That one hurt!

And my most recent is a small unalome, of which my best friend from 3rd grade and on got a matching one, on my side where my bra sits, and that is the symbol for the path to enlightenment. Both her and I have suffered some trauma so we thought it appropriate. I'm also constantly pinning ideas for new ones because I love ink! LOVE LOVE!

Tattoos are beautiful and very brave because they do welcome some stares and open you to questions. If you have many visible tattoos people do judge you because of them. I find that completely unfair and absolute bullshit but it is a fact of life. 

I love how every tattoo has a story. I have some friends I love with Disney or Harry Potter tattoos and it's never just "Oh they like those characters," there is always some amazing story. And I love the people that are just brave enough to say I put this on my skin to remind me of this or because that moved or changed me. I love the connections we make over these artistic expressions. I think they keep us human. And anyone who willingly goes through that kind of pain is strong, not that people without tattoos are weak, but I think a different kind of strength draws others to body art.

You do only get one life and I respect and admire anyone who wants to color their lives accordingly! I can't wait to collect more works of art on my body!