Thursday, January 29, 2009

Smoke. Drink. Cuss...

I have tattoos.  I have 4 of them.  

A double Black and Red star on my lower back (yes, yes - tramp stamp)
Cherry blossoms on my right ankle
and two sparrows on my shoulders - ones an angel the other is a devil

The star I got after my divorce.  My maiden name is Stary [pronounced "Starry"] and my favorite colors are black and red.  I was 26.  A friend of mine did it for $20 and dinner at Friday's... A pretty straight forward tattoo. 

My second tattoo was the Cherry Blossoms.  It is on the front of my right ankle.  A friend of mine wanted to get matching tattoos - which I'm against.  I feel it's bad voodoo, a very good way to guarantee the end of something... we haven't spoken in nearly 2 years.  See.  My neuroses have some validity.  I might be breaking my rule on this one soon... but its for someone I consider family - so maybe that'll break the jinx... here's hoping!  Anyway... 
She had some cherry blossoms tattooed on her right shoulder and I had mine on my right ankle.  That too reminds me of my family.  Of being a child.  There is a cherry tree in front of my parents house and once a year it turns pink - the entire street.  It was always a magical thing.

That last one or should I say two are my birds.
I love traditional tattoos.  Sparrows, sailor stuff.  Thats where the birds started at.  Then I had one for an angel and the other a devil - on my shoulders reminding me of the choices I was to make.  The story behind them is much longer than the first two... they remind me of loss.

Nearly to the day, a year before my son was born I was pregnant.
3 months.
We went in to find out the sex.
We didn't find a heartbeat.
October 20th I went into surgery.
Two days before my 32 birthday.

To say it screwed me up is putting it mildly.  
The Halloween party we go to every year I drank for 14 hours straight.  That was a week after the surgery.

I've never had a hang over like that in my life.

That Christmas, as I held my niece and nephew - resentment - for it is a wonderful thing... but I held them anyway.  My nephew was the hardest, he was only a few months old.  I remember being at Red Robin and I went to the bathroom and cried .  Reapplied my makeup and then went back to the table.

Before Christmas I got the tattoos.  Two birds for good luck.  Angel and Devil.  Reminders.
I needed to remind myself that I had an angel too... even if I couldn't see it.
All I wanted was the devil.
Cuss like a sailor.  (among other things)

When we had found out we were pregnant again I was elated.  I knew.  Before I took the test I knew.  About a week before, but I figured the worse so I ignored it.
Smoke.  Drink.  Cuss...

We had a show - February 9th of last year.  On the 10th I took the test.  I took two, my husband didn't believe I was pregnant.  I was, very pregnant.  About a month...

where am I going with this... 

Loss it a terrible thing, especially when you don't realize just how bad it is.
And 2008 was a testament to it.  I lost some friends, well, people I thought were my friends. And by "loss" I mean we stopped talking...

Enter superstition #2 - the words "Best Friend" [smoke.  drink.  cuss... and maybe a few hand gestures]

Everyone who has told me I was their Best Friend has dumped me within months of saying those words to me.  So then that happened, plus I lost my mind because I became so ever loving paranoid that I was going to lose Xander that I didn't know what to think or even how to breath.

"Transitional" is a mild word when I look back.  Mind f*ck seems more fitting.

When I had the birds tattooed on me I didn't realize how true they were to me.  
Everyday, good and evil... 
Trying to make the right choice but not wanting to because lying in bed was safer.   

Then Xander came.  And I was happy.
And about two months later my "mood" grew bad again.  
I told people it's the baby blues - but I don't think it was, maybe a little bit, but I think it was stemming from the last year - 
I can't blame the one good thing that I've ever done for my shitty ass mood.

That's where I was going...

My next tattoo is for him.  I just need to make the appointment.
I'm getting his Chinese Zodiac sign tattooed on my wrist and "son" also in Chinese next to it.  It may be cliche, but it's what I want.

This isn't where I planned on going with this blog.  But it just kind of came out.  Its time that it came out.  Carrying the burden of the past year and a half has been beyond daunting.  
I wish I had never seen that ultrasound...

But what dulls it and makes it bearable - Alexander.

The moment they set Xander on my chest.  They even suctioned him on my chest.  
I couldn't breath.
That was what had been kicking me for months.  He bruised me so bad it took 3 months for my ribs to heal after he was born.
That was what had been keeping me up at night.
And he was perfect.

My angel.  Finally.

In the last few weeks I started drifting south again.  
And now I'm done.  F*ck this last year! [smoke.  drink.  cuss.]

I let this funk ruin so much in the last year, I'm not even remotely proud of it.
So what changed?
Someone I haven't seen in 15 years yelled at me. (I deserved it, btw) AT that moment I finally saw what a pathetic being I had become.  
And another person encouraged me to write.  To write true.  And I thank him for that because I think it helped me get to this moment faster. 
And a couple more showed me that the ones I lost... well, the point.  

I have 4 tattoos
They all have meaning 
Everything in my life has meaning - even if you can't see it.
Yes.  I'm that overly sentimental, even if I don't show it.
Which I try not to
Cuz it's mine

Smoke.  Drink.  Cuss... 
Add my tattoos
I really should have been a sailor...

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