[Author's note: I love my mother dearly. Though we haven't always gotten along, we're now good friends. I plan on writing this letter out by hand and giving it to her when I go home to visit - she doesn't like tattoos, and I want to make the process of revealing mine as smooth as possible.]
At A Glance Author Sarah Contact [email protected] IAM bohemian When N/A Dear Mom,
I have a tattoo now.
I hope you're still reading.
Before I explain why I made the decision to get tattooed, I want to explain why I didn't:
I didn't do it to be cool or to fit in. While it's true that some of my friends have tattoos, a tattoo is obviously a much more permanent symbol than, say, a pair of jeans. I am fully aware of how stupid it is to get a "trendy" tattoo (and yes, there are trends in tattooing, and they're all just as silly and meaningless as clothing trends, and I feel bad for anyone who succumbs to them.) When I thought about getting tattooed I knew that I could only get something that genuinely had a profound personal meaning for me, not a hip design that would make other people think I was cool for six months.
I didn't get tattooed to be rebellious. That would be a remarkably short-sighted act, and I have matured enough since my "wild teenage years" to know that shortsightedness and permanent decisions do not go hand in hand. I know that you don't like tattoos, and I realize that you may never like mine, but please understand that this did not motivate my decision. I did not do this to threaten or challenge you. In fact I hope that even if you don't ever like my tattoo or my decision to get tattooed, that you at least respect me for choosing to mark my body in a way that is pleasing and meaningful to me.
I didn't get tattooed to get over Mark [my ex-fiance]. There are plenty of ways to do that, that don't involved marking the skin! And I have the foresight to realize that at some point in the future he will truly be irrelevant to me, and having a tattoo to "commemorate" something like a breakup just doesn't make any sense. It would be just as pointless as if I had gotten tattooed to celebrate our relationship, before things turned ugly. I knew that any tattoo I would get would have to be for me and for me alone, because in the end it's my body that's marked and it's me that has to live with the design for the rest of my life.
And on that note, here is why I did it. Some of this you may know already, some of it you may not know, but I'm putting it all down so that you can see my thought process.
I have always had an intensely vivid mental life, from imagination to dreams. Remember all those nightmares I had as a kid? Though I don't have nightmares any more, the images from them have stayed with me, defining who I am to the extent that they can. Images from both the bad dreams and the good dreams, images from art I've seen and art I've made, symbols that have resonated with me as I've struggled to make sense of my life and what meaning it has for me, and so forth � all of these visions rattling around in my head so hard they've been practically screaming. And now that I've reached adulthood (or early adulthood at any rate, I of course have many decades ahead of me to continue growing and learning about myself) it's become clear to me that these images aren't going to go away. They really have helped define who I am, in their own obscurely personal ways.
I saw tattooing as a tool to help me both honor this personal mythology and to move it from my head to my body � the images were popping into my thoughts so often it was starting to get distracting. I didn't like the physical reality of what it is to get tattooed (and even now, afterwards, I still don't) so it took me a while to work up the courage to actually go through with it: to create a design that would incorporate my symbols and still look beautiful enough to be pleasing for a lifetime, to find an artist capable of rendering it at a clean, reputable studio, and to actually be able to walk in and sit down and allow the tattoo to happen. And I am incredibly proud of myself for finding this courage within me. Just as I wouldn't turn down a medical procedure just because it was going to be icky and painful, I knew in my heart that I couldn't not get the tattoo just because the process was icky and painful.
And this, overall, is the feeling that I am left with now that I am tattooed: pride, and a deep glowing sense of self-satisfaction. That I have been gifted with the insight to understand my life and the patterns it has made, and to recognize the symbols that genuinely mean something to me and to me alone. That I have found the self-esteem and the courage to put these symbols in a place where other people can potentially see them and judge them and judge me for my decision to put them there. That I have the wisdom to avoid making the sorts of mistakes I see too many other people making when they choose to get tattooed ("I want a pretty butterfly!" "I want something I can show off to my friends") and can genuinely say that I will be proud of my tattoo for my entire life, no matter how faded or wrinkled it (and I) get, because I didn't get it for looks or status or anything else � I got it for me.
I love you for being a wonderful mother and raising me to have all this courage and insight and self-esteem and bravery. I didn't always feel this strongly about myself and my place in the world, and I know that I owe much of it to you, and I truly, truly cannot thank you enough. And if this seems like a weird time to say this, like I'm trying to justify behavior you don't like by saying "well, it's because of you"... nope. There will be many things I do in life that I will owe to my courage and self-esteem � pursuing a career, falling in love again, eventually starting a family and raising children of my own � and all of it I will thank you for. So don't sweat this one little act.
I'd be happy to show you the tattoo, let you look at it and ask questions about it and give me grief for it and generally affirm your role as my mom. I'd also be happy to keep it covered under sleeves and not let it be revealed when I'm around you and never mention it again. Of course, the first option would be nicer. But whatever reaction you have is okay. I wrote you this letter so that you'd have a chance to see my reasoning and think about this idea of your daughter being tattooed before we talked about it. And no matter what kind of conversation we're about to have, know that I love you and respect you and look forward to our next hug.