Ink- What My Tattoos Reveal

Tattoos are not the counter culture art they once were. Almost everyone I know has some kind of ink. I have contemplated tattoos since my early 20s, but could never settle on what I wanted. I had enough foresight for myself to know if I got something ‘trendy’ I would regret it with in a few years. 

As I approached the age of 44 I had decided I was ready to commit some permanent art to my body. I was marking the fact that I had reached the age was that mother had when she died. There was a lot of turmoil in my head and life at that point. I had not yet really recognized how significant that year was going to be for me. All I knew at the time was that I wanted to mark it in some way. I was unsure how to go about really seeking out an artist. 

It just so happened that my long ago ex’s brother had become a tattoo artist. My birth son had already had some ink done by his birth uncle and it was quite well done. I had decided on a bracelet around my left wrist made up of the first initial of my Nan, Mom, Son and Daughter, met by an infinity sign, with a little ‘charm’ of a Triquetra. This was my bloodline eternal and honouring the Celt history of my family.

I was comfortable with him, we were old friends. I was drawn immediately to how it changed a part of me in such a short time. 

At the time he had said to me that he believed that there were 3 types of people, ones who would never get tattoos, ones who would get one and be done and others- this is where I cut in and said ‘who are planning their next before the first is even finished.’ And so began my ink adventure.  

It is now 6 years later and yesterday I got my 14th tattoo.

I have spent a long time figuring out the draw for me- it isn’t just one thing, there seems to be many. It is deeply tied up in my mental health, even this does not represent just a single reasoning. 

I have intrusive thoughts. I have a history of self harm, for those of you that do not know what the reasoning behind self harm can be, it is a complex and individual thing, but I will try to explain what it is for me as simply as I can. 

When my brain becomes so full with spinning plates of danger, I get very stuck there. So many feelings that I become unable to feel anything. The desire for physical pain comes from just wanting to know that I can feel something. Like creating a symbol crash to interrupt white noise. Sometimes it releases steam, a representation of mental pain that can not be expressed in any other way. 

I have faded scars on my body from my teenage/early twenties. As I got older, it would be more from pinching, hitting or finding other ways to bruise myself, rarely drawing blood. It is not as often as I age, but the urges still come, the frustration still builds. After I had my daughter I knew I needed a better way to deal, or at least a more acceptable one. 

So I went hard core exercise and food control. While there were benefits to those behaviours I believe I was doing some damage to my body’s soft tissues and joints and I was becoming obsessive. Knowing this was not a healthy path I eased up on the harsh discipline. I did not want my daughter to think this disordered relationship with food and exercise was normal.  

I was grappling with what it meant to out live my mother. I was so overwhelmed I wanted to push myself to feel alive. Then came the first tattoo.

When the first contact of the needle pierced my skin it was such a lovely sensation. Sharp, stinging, rhythmical, a delight. I could feel the angst I had been having start to dissipate. The spinning in my brain slowing, the tension leaving my body. This was interesting to me. 

I recognize that it is also taking ownership in a loving way over my body. I have hid in my body, allowed others to use my body, hated my body, put my body through pain, given my body to my children, found pleasure in my body, but I have never adorned it with something meaningful. The marking of my skin has meaning. I have begun to write my story on my body. 

The next two tattoos came not long after. Placed on the inside of my forearms, left and right. One an Ouroboros encasing a Pentacle sits on my right. This is to remind myself that if I live with curiosity and wonder I will be constantly reborn into my spiritual journey. The one on my left is a Sigil created to remind me that my demons will never take me down. A Sigil is a character or symbol created as a representation of an intent. My demons being my mental disfunction.

Two more came fairly quickly, they adorn my right forearm just below the Pentacle. A Triskelion, it is three spirals that form a triangle. The Celtic meaning is for movement, it also represents The Morrighan. She is the Goddess of the battlefield and transitions, this is what the last decade has felt like, constant transitioning, she has been a guide for me. Just below that is a piece of art known as The Ensō, it looks like an incomplete circular brush stroke. This is perfection in being unfinished. 

At the same time I had another one done. On the outside of that same forearm is a series of small symbols called moon glyphs, there are so many but the ones I have chosen are the four elements (air, water, fire and earth) as well as life and balance.

The next came on a trip to New Orleans with my husband. I have been to NOLA a number of times, it is the place where I feel most at home and centred. The tattoo is a small Fleur de Lis on my left forearm just below the Sigil. I always have the place I feel most comfortable with me.  There was a little gap in getting another tattoo. 

My mental health had hit rough patch, I belong to a loose group of people know as AKF, it is Always Keep Fighting. Fighting the monsters, intrusive thoughts, suicide ideation etc.. we are an online support group. I had decided to incorporate the AKF into an arrow, it is on the outside of my left forearm. No matter how far back I feel I am being pulled I will always keep fighting to move forward. 

I see myself as a warrior, compassionate, kind but tough. It shows up in my writing, the fictional characters I create are always in battle with something. The next tattoo is a Celt/Norse sword that is down the outside of my left thigh. A weapon of strength always at the ready.

My daughter is my heart. She is beautiful, funny, insightful and kind. Unfortunately her nervous system has some of my wiring and can be prone to anxiety and intrusive thoughts. But unlike me at that age, she has support and we started helping her build her tool belt and armour. I love her so much. She teaches me so much about myself, love and what loving parenting can be. She had picked a purple Starlette Lily that she felt would make a good tattoo for me. I am not a big one for colour in my tattoos, there are some glorious pieces of coloured art out there, but nothing I have felt drawn too. However, this, being chosen by her is an exception (and I am not ruling out some colour in the future). My upper left arm is home to a lovely lily.

Writing is my core. Creating is my soul. Art, food, words…… cultivating gardens, friendships and magic. But it always comes back to the writing, the thing that has saved my life over and over again. Creating tough warrior characters, battling monsters. Poetry to express the pain, passion, frustration, love, curiosity and appreciation for life that sits deeply in me. This led to my next tattoo that takes up a good portion of real estate on my left upper thigh. A stack of books, the top is open, on one page it says, ‘I create, therefore I live’, the other pages says, ‘I must write to empty my head or I go mad’. A long side the stack of books is a quill and ink pot. My deepest thoughts are always saved for pen to paper. Most of my writing is there, to later be transferred to computer. I need the physical connection to my words.

On the second visit to finish up the books and ink pot I had decided it was time to add a few more symbols to awaken my inner magic. On the back of my neck, I have placed two Norse Ruins- one for wisdom and the other for spiritual knowledge. I also had decided that on the empty portion of my right forearm a representation of growth and magic needed to be added. There is a lotus flower with a series of lines drawing its magic to a crescent moon. Thin simple lines but a powerful image I get comments on all the time.

This brings me to the latest addition. I love the sacredness of symbols. I adore anything that draws my creativity out. I do also like to have a bit of symmetry in my body art (eventually balanced amount of art left and right, top and bottom). Geometry is math in its physical form, shapes hold magic ability. They can help to tell the future, explain the past and give us direction. There can be seriousness contained within, and whimsy of chance given how any shape may land. I had decided on another sword of sorts, on the right leg, in the same space as the other sword is on the left. But this time, the blade is not solid, it is comprised of the based sacred geometric shapes. A polyhedron, dodecahedron, pentagonal trapezohedron, octahedron, cube, and finally a tetrahedron. These also just so happen to be a set of D&D dice, fashioned into a blade. A nod to the game that has brought me back to the bravado of putting writing out for consumption. It is also the power of taking things back to their basic shapes and rendering them for different uses. 

While I know this is expression, what I did not anticipate was the other effects. There is pain with tattoos, not unbearable, but sharp, and depending on the size and where it is placed the pain sensation can vary. This fits into the release of self harm, flooding the brain with the chemical pain produces. Providing a reset, a calm from the chaos. But this is socially acceptable as it results in art, expression. A strange irony. But I find when I get the ‘itch’ to get one, if I take a step back and view what is going on in my life it twins up with intense times of stress, delicate mental health balances, moments of being overwhelmingly numb. It brings me back around. No scars, no damage, only art.

It also allows me to put an external mark on my body. This is mine, not yours to touch, comment on, demand things from or tell me what to do with.  I will decorate it the way I want, wether or not you approve or understand is irrelevant. This is mine.

I don’t believe this is the end of my ink journey by a long shot. I have more pieces of me to express. Memories, accomplishments, wishes, statements and symbols all waiting to be revealed. I am not sure entirely what any of them are yet, but they will come.