So much seemingly disconnected pondering. Feels…ponderous.
Tonight I did something I've wanted to do for years…years, people. I got a tattoo. Yes…me…a tattoo…me and needles…pain… Everyone loves their own tattoo, right? I mean, it would totally stink if you didn't love your own tattoo since it's not coming off any time soon. I'm a fan of mine. Seriously. It's cool - to me. And that's fine, because it's mine. I'm not going to post a picture here, for no other reason than that it's mine (well, and also because I just got it done, and my skin is very angry with me right now). I think it's lovely and meaningful - and it hurt like I don't even have proper, non-vulgar words to describe. "Ow" doesn't quite cover it. But I went to that shop knowing that it was going to hurt and opening myself up to that hurt on purpose in order to gain something valuable to me. It didn't save the world or change anyone's mind about anything or have anything to do with anyone else. Pain is not fun and it's hard and it challenges me mentally and emotionally - but it also can lead to something beautiful.
I've been having constant growing pains for a few years now. It's been quite the road. I don't honestly feel like I gain ground every day, but I can look back and say I'm not the same as I was, and that's definitely a good thing. It hurts to lose things and go through change and be challenged to do life differently. It hurts to leave the familiar and embark on a new path. It hurts to be let down by people. It hurts to let myself down. But pain can bring beauty and value if I let it. It can be part of the process of making something new and meaningful. It can be part of the healing process, to feel the pain and acknowledge it and then let it bring change.
The rest of my pondering tonight is related to my growing pains. Learning things about myself is not always fun. Sometimes I learn things I'd rather not know, or at least rather not share with the world. No one wants their weaknesses on display, not even for the trusted inner circle. It's embarrassing and painful. Why do I apologize for being smart/right/good at something/successful? Why is it hard for me to use my voice? Why do I hesitate when asked to identify the things I like to do and that make me happy? Does this mean I'm not really a grown up? Now obviously adulting is hard - blanket forts and crayons (ooh, and napping!) sound like a much more fun option about 99.9% of the time. But…I suppose I can stop at this point and let myself wallow in the pain or lack of answers, or I can push on in search of something beautiful.
