Welcome to the craziness that is my life!

This is my story in pieces. The good ones, the bad ones, and everything in between. It is messy and flawed...just like it's author. I am not a selfliss person...I am not an angel...I am a loud, opinionated, most of the time crazy, Mom. I write here the things I cannot discuss in my "day to day life". These views are my own, from my own journey. Adoption has changed my life forever, some for good, some not so good. If you don't agree with me, that's fine. It's not your story...it's mine. Consider it a manual on "How Not To Act/What Not To Do When You Are Pregnant and Considering Adoption". If you learn nothing else, learn to educate yourself to the long term affects on yourself, your family, and the child you chose to place.

Oh...and please, don't call me "bitter". I prefer the term "enlightened".


***DISCLAIMER-I don't speak for anyone but me...in this story or in life. It is here as an educational tool if anyone chooses to learn something. I appreciate comments always.***

P.S. Just because I don't actively blog doesn't mean I still don't LOVE comments. Yes, I still check them. I guess I would just rather hear YOUR thoughts, than share mine.

If you missed the story, start reading the "Posts of Some Significance" located directly underneath and to the right of this. That's the story in a nutshell.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Sometimes PAIN is a good thing.

"Tattooing is about personalizing the body, making it a true home and fit temple for the spirit that dwells inside it.... Tattooing therefore, is a way of keeping the spiritual and material needs of my body in balance." ~Michelle Delio

I love tattoos. Not all tattoos, mind you, but most. Especially when they tell a story. I love good stories.

I have used this blog to chronicle my version, of my story for over a year now. I have lived through my story for two years. The good days, the bad days, and the hundreds of in between days. I have met amazing people, and I have learned so much insight into the hearts and minds of others. And learned more than I can even find the time to write about myself. On a few occasions, I have thought that perhaps I had found closure, but a day or two would go by, and the little voices would start nagging at me again, or an email would come through and the emotions would kick back up again.

 Right now, I am supposed to be writing this amazing series of posts on the discovery I have been given on my AParents true feelings and true motives. I have posts 75% done, and every time I sit down to finish them, I think "WHY? It will change nothing!" It is draining. It is pointless. It takes time away from my "real life".  And then I remember...I didn't start writing this blog for them...I started it for me. It is a lesson plan in open adoption. Its blessings, its curses, and I know more than a few of you have learned over the year what NOT to do in certain situations. Anytime an adoptive parent writes me to tell me they learned something valuable, I smile. Anytime a birthmother writes me to say she can relate, or that I have successfully put into words something she can only feel, my heart feels full. But mainly, it is here for me to vent, to learn, and to grow through a journey I never envisioned myself being on. And right, wrong, or indifferent...there has been a lot of pain, and it sucks. No way to sugar coat that. We, as human beings, don't want to feel pain, or suffering, and so we run from it, avoid it, supress it, or ignore it. Especially when that pain is inflicted on us, without our consent, from other individuals.

A little while ago, I made the consious decision to look pain straight in the face, and to see who the better man was. I felt the overwhelming need to memorialize my journey in the way of a tattoo. There is a poem, called "The Stolen Child" by William Butler Yeats that has nothing to do with adoption (or does it?) that was written many years ago. It has the following verse in it:

"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."

For a long time, I thought I would tattoo that verse on me, along with a big fairy holding a human baby. But recently, as I read more and more about adoption...especially the adoptee blogs, it didn't seem like a "right fit" for what I was feeling. Several months ago, I was reintroduced to a talented young lady from high school, who now sells her amazing custom designs. I actually showcased her fantastic work in this post. (Click Here!!!) I asked her permission to tattoo one of her designs on me, and thankfully she said yes. Perr took two of my most favorite designs and turned them into an amazing hybrid of love, pregnancy, and my scarlett letter. I loved it, and into the car we went...off to burn into my skin what was already burning through my heart.

This tattoo experience was amazing. First of all, the guy that did it was huge, and scary as heck. That was good. I needed someone to do it that scared me. And when I told him I wanted it on my foot, and he tried to talk me out of it, due to how badly it would hurt, I KNEW this was right. I told him that anything he could do with that tattoo gun, would only be a tiny bit of pain, compared to the real life experience and overwhelming heartbreak that put me in his chair in the first place. His curiousity peaked...we began.


He started with the stencil, and told me how important it was NOT to move, since I had chosen to not do an outline on the tattoo. I wanted it feminine, delicate, and the black outline would have taken away from the artistic aspect of the design. When the needle came out, I shivered. And then I remembered that I was in control of this experience. I was inflicting the pain on myself (although he was a darn good proxy), and that I needed to focus. He tried, one last time to talk me out of the placement on my foot, saying that my back or my shoulder would hurt much less, and I told him I wanted it where I could see it daily...where it would hurt the most going on, and be the most healing going forward. That the only thing I have to stand on is my own two feet...LOL...and that I was sure that's where I wanted it.

Now, I already have one tattoo. It is ugly, and means nothing, and thankfully sits on my back shoulder where I never have to see it. When I got it, I never even flinched. My pain tolerance is higher than most, I guess. But this one, I've dreamed of...craved, and I wanted to watch the whole thing. When the needle dug into my foot, I jumped at first. As he began to trace it, he told me it wouldn't hurt as bad if I looked away. But me, being the sadist that I am, STARED at every poke and prick of the needle. Tears in my eyes, hand death gripped on my ankle for support, I gritted my teeth and watched. GOD...It hurt. Badly. But something fantastic happened as each pretty turquoise line dug into the flesh. I could finally breathe. Full deep breaths, sucking in the pain and the life and the memory. And as my foot began to sting more and more, my heart began to hurt less and less. This was not me feeling like a victim. This was me, bearing down on the pain, living through it, and being happy for the lesson that I was learning. Not all Pain is bad.


Magical. That's the only word for it. It's funny how something so small can make such a big impact on my life. The thirty minutes I spent, sharing my story, feeling the searing pain....there are no words. There were tears in my eyes, tears in his, and I wound up getting the tattoo done for the price of the tip. AMAZING.

This is it...new, raw, and bleeding still. Right now, it is nasty looking...flaking and peeling. I am learning not to pick at scabs...something Perry has cautioned me about throughout my entire Adoption journey. Sometimes you have to let wounds heal on their own. I'll post another pic once it's healed. But for now, here is my Red Badge of Courage...My Scarlett Letter...My Fantastic Battle Wound...My tattoo.
















5 comments:

  1. I love it! I have freedom tatooed on my back...War wounds can sometimes be beautiful!!

    Katy

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  2. Thank you for sharing your experience! It turned out great.

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  3. Oh Michelle, I am so glad you have this tattoo and for the experience you had getting it. It couldn't have been more perfectly choreographed by the sound of it.

    I hope that my comments have brought you comfort. I am an adoptive Mom and I can tell you 100% that your blog has made a HUGE impact on our daughter's adoption and the willingness I have to be more open than I originally thought with her birth mother.

    I would hope that ANY adoptive parent would try to have compassion for their child's birth parent (or First Mother/Father). If not for the sake of human compassion then for the sake of their child. I never want our daughter to ever be ashamed of us or how we dealt with her birth family. I can honestly I say I love our daughter's birth mom. She is very young and I feel very motherly towards her. That is not everyone's birth parent situation, but it is mine. I want for her everything I want for our daughter...and I tell her that.

    I have 5 children whom I love dearly. The human heart has a LARGE capacity to love. I am not afraid of our daughter loving her birth mother.

    I am her PARENT that can never be taken away from me. But I also didn't give birth to her. That is a fact and so her birth mother has a place that can never be taken away either.

    I pray for your healing and that your testimony will be used to help many! I pray that your daughter will have an opportunity to know the woman she came from. If not now, then after she is an adult.

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  4. Michelle, I just want to let you know I've really enjoyed your posts this month. Okay, so I ALWAYS really enjoy your posts. Thank you for sharing your experience. I have learned from and thoroughly enjoyed reading your blog :)

    Your tattoo is beautiful! I love that you didn't have it outlined. It is perfect that way.

    ~ Jill (a fellow tattooed footie)

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  5. "But something fantastic happened as each pretty turquoise line dug into the flesh. I could finally breathe. Full deep breaths, sucking in the pain and the life and the memory. And as my foot began to sting more and more, my heart began to hurt less and less. This was not me feeling like a victim. This was me, bearing down on the pain, living through it, and being happy for the lesson that I was learning."

    I know exactly how you feel! I too felt that release, that pain that somehow felt good to go through. What a release it was, and still is when I look down at my ankle and think about all that was going through my mind and heart that day. Love this post! Just love it, and love you even more!!!!

    Next time I am there to see you, we will go together and get a tat just for us! A fun one. A Kels and Michelle tat that will always remind us of our strength, our brave hearts, our kindred spirits! Maybe something like a kool aid packet??

    BWAHaaaa Haaaa Haaaa Haaaa! ;)

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