The Story Behind It

I am not who I used to be.  And thank God for that.  These days I am the happiest I have ever been.  In fact, my best friend, Christina, told me recently that she has never seen me so free, open and happy.  We've known each other for nearly 7 years, so she's seen a lot of ups and downs in my life.  Over the last couple years, I have truly reinvented myself.  I had a dream a while back that I emerged from an egg (this was way before Lady Gaga did that) and I just took flight.  Have you ever had a dream that just affects you profoundly?  This dream did that for me.  To me it symbolized a rebirth with new heights ahead. 

So, just a quick recap of the last 2 1/2 years of my life.  I became single after a steady 7-year relationship.  I made the decision to finally act on my curiosity about vegetarianism.  I finally got a chihuahua.  Ever since the Taco Bell dog, I have wanted a chihuahua.  I quit my 5-year successful banking career in the middle of the recession to go back to college.  Yes, I was financially secure and now I'm really broke.  But money can't buy happiness.  I rediscovered my faith.  For years I knew that I loved God and that He loved me.  But similar to when you find an old dear friend on facebook, I reconnected with Him.  I realized that I actually love myself, and I really don't care about what anyone else thinks.  The insecurity of my teens and 20's has dissipated.  It's so incredibly invigorating to live the life I have now.  I never knew it could be this good.

All that being said, I have been considering getting a tattoo for a couple years, as well.  I was drawn to the idea of a phoenix.  This is a bird that ignites in flames at the end of its long life, but out of the ashes the phoenix is reborn.  Its cry is a beautiful song.  I have known for a while that this is how I feel inside.  I feel reborn from a pile of ashes.  But I could never quite figure out how I wanted it to look.  I wanted a beautiful, colorful bird, but no pictures I looked at felt right.  I couldn't even really imagine in my head what the perfect phoenix would look like.  It needed some sort of twist.  Then, a little over a week ago, Christina said, "What if you got a tattoo of music notes from a song that is important to you, and it had wings.  The wings would symbolize how you've taken flight and you are living your life to be happy."  She had me in tears talking about it.  It was perfect and beautiful.  That could be combined so perfectly with my phoenix idea.  She then told me it would be my birthday present.

On Tuesday, I showed up at the tattoo parlor armed with my own pitiful sketch, some sheet music, and some pictures I found online.  After taking a look at the sheet music and my sketch, the artist quickly simplified the idea and drew something so perfect that I never could have done on my own.  Instead of the notes, he made the body a treble clef, and then added the words "felice mi fa" from my favorite Italian aria, which I learned to sing at the age of 13.  Christina and our friend, Julianna, were there to hold my hands and remind me to breathe as the needle pierced my skin.  At one point, it felt as though my ribs were being sawed in half.  After two hours of nearly unbearable pain, I got off the chair and looked in the mirror.  Tears filled my eyes again.  But this time it was because the artwork was so beautiful, and such an incredible reflection of who I am.  It will be there always to remind me that I deserve to be happy.  I have the strength to rise from the ashes of hard times with a beautiful song declaring my happiness.  I can be free and live my life to the fullest.  I also love the Christian symbolism of dying to my sins and living again in Christ.  When I look at the beautiful bird on my back, I see only myself.  That bird is me, spreading my wings, singing a beautiful song, and being happy.

 The last time I have a bare back

 It hurt.  A lot.

 My death grip on Christina's hand.

 Outline done.  I was crying at this point from the pain.

 All done.

 Beautiful bird.

Just so you can see the scale of it.

Bah Bah, Black Sheep

It's difficult to explain how I managed to be the renegade sibling in my family.  I didn't start out that way.  When we were kids, my brothers called me The Enforcer.  I'm also the mother bear of my family.  I have a zero-tolerance policy for anyone treating my family poorly.  Even within my family, if an argument comes up, I'll put the person who's wrong in their place.  I also take credit for raising my siblings.  Both of our parents worked, and when they divorced, I became a pseudo parent.  So basically, I was the one keeping everyone in check.  But now I'm the outsider, and I'm okay with that.

The year I moved away and didn't look back.  Two weeks before I started my freshman year of highschool, my mother moved us across the state.  I went kicking and screaming, and counted down the days until I could move back to our hometown.  I graduated from highschool in June, and moved out that summer.  The rest of my siblings are still there, with the exception of one.  My brother joined the Navy this year, and is now stationed on the east coast.  All three of my adult brothers have moved away for a time, but they have all gone back.  My little sister never left.  It's been 11 years since I made a break for it.  Rearview torn off.

The day my mom called me a "Lib".  I was wearing a cute shirt I got from Target that says "Peace is the way."  It has a peace sign on it and a flower.  After she hurled what was supposed to be an insult at me, I replied, "Should my shirt say 'Kill Everyone!!' or 'Violence is the answer'?  I'm pretty sure most people want peace."  I'll tell you what did it.  It was the peace sign.  Since my mother was a child in the 60's, she automatically associates the peace sign with hippies.  She doesn't like hippies.  We weren't allowed to have peace signs on anything when we were kids.  My mom and dad are both pretty conservative in their politics, as are my brothers.  I used to be fairly conservative, but I've become more socially liberal as years have passed.  One of my brothers is even quite active with the local Tea Party.  I say, to each his own, so long as he can compromise.  I'm pro-choice, and believe that all people should have the right to marry the person they love.  Oh, and here's the doozy:  I voted for Obama.  And just for the record, I'm a registered Republican.

I'm not married, and I'm not a virgin.  This goes right against the conservative Mormon upbringing I had.  When I moved in with my now ex-boyfriend, my mom was horrified that I would be living in sin.  Yeah, well.  I had to break it to her that he wasn't even my first.  Sex was never brought up at all in my house growing up.  It was just something married people did.  Not that I wanted gory details, but I was never subjected to "The Talk".


I love my family dearly, but I must say that I'm happy to have blazed my own trail.  This is obviously not an exhaustive list, but they are some major things that stand out right off the top of my head.  It's funny when I tell people I'm the black sheep of the family.  I have never done drugs, even marijuana.  I've never spent a night in jail.  Basically, all those things that are classically thought of as bad behavior.  I regard myself as a normal person.  I'm sure my mother wonders at times where she went wrong.  I'm also sure my brothers still talk about the time I had the audacity to call Sarah Palin an idiot.  But truth be told, they know that I will always be there for them, no matter the color of my fleece.