Moms with ink,
My therapist is tatted (and basically the coolest) and she recently told me something that stuck with me.
“Tattooing is one of the most intentional types of self-care.”
As a mom and wife who struggles HARD to find the time, the money, and the ability to justify “me time”, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said.
When I sit for a new tattoo, I can’t get up.
For 30 minutes or several hours, I’m in that seat or (the best kind) laid out on a massage table.
More often than not I fall asleep, which says much more about my desperate sleep deprivation than my pain tolerance.
Something about the whir of the tattoo machine and the rhythm of the needles that create this beautiful white noise that sounds in NO WAY like my needy kids.
I am able to totally zone out and be completely present in my own body in a way that my everyday life doesn’t allow.
Especially as I parent an extreme child or care for someone with extra needs, where I have to be ‘on’ at all times.
There is no relaxing,
No true sleep,
I need to be ready to move, run, react at all times.
To be mom,
To be provider,
To be rescuer and boo-boo kisser,
To be mediator and disciplinarian.
But in that black leather chair,
I can just be me–a woman. The same one I was before I was a wife or a mom or a school volunteer or grad student.
I was just this human person who could stand out or blend in as much as I felt necessary.
No other expectations.
It’s funny because, outside of the tattoo shop and the line at Starbucks, I get judged for my ink. It’s as if my 2010 busted mom van and old yoga pants aren’t a dead giveaway that my tattoos are the only cool thing about me. But I. Do. Not. Care.
Whatever gives you that anonymity, mama, do it.
Do you like to take really long runs?
Spend the day at a spa?
Go on a girls’ trip?
Spend half a day at the gym?
Mix ingredients, creating gorgeous new recipes dancing around your kitchen?
Friends, DO IT!!
We all need some peace right now, even if the means doesn’t match the next mama’s.