Do you bribe yourself with little treats? Maybe encourage would be the better term. The past two years I’ve encouraged myself to make it through dreary January with the promise of a tattoo. A little something to look forward to, if you will. I am currently laying in a hotel bed, in a chronic health flare, preparing to board a cruise ship that will test my physical, emotional, and mental capacity. Gifted family vacations, while generous, can be very tricky. Thankfully, I have a little something waiting for me when I get back- a congrats for surviving tattoo- so, survive I will.
If this seems a flippant way to engage the idea of permanently inking one’s body, I can see your point. However, the only tattoo that I have considered covering is my first, which I took extremely seriously. In fact, for most of my life I’ve taken everything extremely seriously. At 20 years old I chose to tattoo two words to remind me of the paradox of humanity, a concept from a John Scott book. Does that sounds like the wild and free days of early pre parenting adulthood? While I still hold to the root belief behind this tattoo, for me it was connected to a spirit full of black and white thinking, moral scrupulosity, and overly cautious choices- because every single, tiny choice felt high stakes. Aligning with those ideals was meant to bring me safety, security and acceptance.
As you may have guessed, there has been a change in my attitude towards choosing tattoos and a change in personal mindset regarding perfectionism. For so long in my life, I struggled to make any choice because it might not be the right one. I couldn’t hear my own voice or opinion easily.
Silly as it may sound, getting tattoos has been a step into renewed ownership of self- an exercise in making decisions that serve me, even if they might not be understood- and in knowing what I want. Getting more tattoos as a mother has also encouraged me to live and teach my family the boundaries I know everyone deserves. For instance the concept of not commenting other peoples bodies, or judging other people for something you don’t personally understand or enjoy- even explaining to kids and parents alike the boundaries of kind communication and minding your own body.
More than that, my tattoos are now meaningful in their decision simplicity. The new decision making flowchart is simple: does it feel right, and does it feel light? I have core beliefs centering on the worth and value of all life, and the importance of allowing ourselves to be human in a way that honors self and others. This has freed me to enjoy life and relax, at least a bit. For me, tattoos express self knowledge, community, and connection.
Now I have:
A tattoo to celebrate coming back to myself, and bestie song lyrics.
A tattoo to remind me of the importance of play and letting go.
A tattoo to commemorate meaningful art and connection.
Tattoos are also one way to get out of my head and into my body. It will likely be a life long commitment to self, seeking to find a better balance between the two.
As someone who is autistic and lives with chronic illness, being in the body can be painful, complex and overwhelming. When you experience pain consistently, and have little control over how your body responds to life, there is something to be said for claiming pain with a purpose, and gaining a small sense of control. After my most recent tattoo, it felt like I had completed an emotional and physical pain loop in my brain and body, and many neurodivergent people express a sense of sensory euphoria during tattooing.
I have friends with many tattoos, and their thought process is simple: Do I like it? One said, and I quote directly, “Just give me a fat bird!” While I don’t have the same fear of mistakes, I still love meaning connected to a tattoo. When I return from this family trip, I’m off to the shop with friends. We’ve decided to get postage stamp outlines, each with our own personal interior design. I’m currently leaning towards the Swan No. 1 by Hilma Af Klint, c. 1915. I also love Mary Oliver. When I found her poetry it felt like coming home. In her work The Swan there is a line which says,
“And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?”
Beauty is the soothing regulatory stim that saves me from the overwhelm. Noticing and constantly taking in a huge amount of sensory information, is a hallmark autistic experience. Turning the noticing into sensory joy when possible is my strategy for survival- seeing beauty in nature, the mundane, even in the conventionally ugly. Focusing myself to contemplate the patterns and purpose around me. Why have I always run away to the art museum or the woods?
Because that’s what beauty is for. It is for holding the reality of brokenness and joy in balance. Beauty in the challenges, in a transcendent piece of art from 1915, or in the soothing scratch of a celebratory tattoo.
This tattoo celebrates the beauty of honesty and humanity, over perfection. Another John famously wrote,
“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good”.
