When I was growing up it seemed tattoos were reserved for the naughty, lust-driven construction guys and grizzled Harley Davidson riders.
Times have changed. Now it’s almost odd to find someone who doesn’t have at least one tattoo on their body. Yes, it’s become trendy. Yes, they hurt like a motherfucker. Yes, there are people who regret getting one.
In spite of it all, I was still intrigued. I toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo but shied away from it due to the stigma sometimes attached to sporting one. Because as you know, every woman who chooses to get a tattoo is basically a slutty whore.
Turning 40 hit hard and in the four years since, my life has completely turned upside down. Everything I assumed, relied on and took for granted is no longer my reality.
Since entering my forties I’ve been witness to the death of close loved ones, my stepfather’s attempted suicide, divorce, remarriage, career changes, moving, kids going into middle school and breast cancer.
Through all this upheaval, I’m finding I’m changing as well. I am becoming more sure of who I am as a person. While life churns about me like a stormy sea and I feel close to sinking, I am reminded that these experiences are strengthening me as a woman. Whether I like it or not, I’m being refined. It’s a process that has taken years and will continue to develop over time.
In the midst of life’s trials, I’ve never been more at peace with myself than right now and I’m grateful for the opportunity. More life has been lived in the four years since I turned 40 than all of my previous years combined. Suffice to say, these years have been filled with a tremendous amount of heartache and hell of a lot of shit. Yet there have been moments of profound joy as well. A joy I never thought I would experience in my lifetime.
I wanted to honour this part of my life and I did it by stepping into a tattoo parlour.
I had “Tell your story” tattooed in cursive on my right forearm because I needed a constant reminder that would reinforce a critical part of my life. We all have a story and these stories deserve a voice. It reminds me to share because in the telling, another opportunity for healing comes to me.
I’m at a point in my life where vulnerability and transparency are vital to my well-being. I couldn’t say that in my 20’s or 30’s. In your 40’s, what do you have to lose? I have a sense of more freedom and acceptance. There is less time for regrets and more time for making memories.
Writing it out on my arm makes it permanent, an extension of myself and what I believe. It’s a challenge that even in the shambles of life, our stories not only help others, but ourselves as well.
Waiting until my forties to get a tattoo might sound like a mid-life crisis or a means to reclaim my youth but actually it’s just the opposite. In reality, it’s a perfect time because life holds more substance due to the years already lived. Yes, I may be considered fickle and impetuous but at my core, there is a stability that I cherish. I’m more grounded in this period of my life. Inking my arm with something I believe in deeply, allows me to always remember how important it is. Telling my story will never be something I regret.