As I sit here writing this, Breaking Bad playing, housework piling up – I’ve finished my cup of coffee and the floors should be well and truly dry now but I can’t find the motivation to get off my tired ass. The kids are at school. My husband is at work.
Not entirely sure why I’m writing this, thought processing I guess.
I’m in the process of having my left arm tattooed, a sleeve. It’s something I have wanted done for years and It’s made me one happy bunny. It’s not finished yet but most of the scarring is covered and I love it. I no longer feel on edge if I’m around new people with my arm uncovered. I no longer look at my arm and think ugh. I’m no longer consumed with worry about my kids and what my scarring may mean for them, the irrational thoughts that they may be excluded or bullied. No one will ask me what they are or how it happened. No more looks – well, not those looks anyway. And I will love it even more once it’s finished, I’m itching to go back and get some more done! I’ve always loved tattoos, if I had my way I’d be covered – too bloody expensive though! I try not to think about how much my arm has cost so far or how much more it’s going to cost, I’m not really used to spending money on myself, it’s not something I do very often!
But this sleeve is worth every penny – the reluctance to write that was unbelievable. But it’s been good for my mental wellbeing, however ridiculous that may sound. I don’t feel so shitty about myself. I know they’re still there but no one will notice them now and that has given my confidence a boost. The embarrassment is gone. The fear is gone.
Sure there’ll still be that conversation with my kids, there’s scars in other places that they will see and they will have questions about things that people will no doubt tell them. But I will cross that bridge if and when. For now I am at ease…