Naked in a Tutu Getting a Tattoo


Yesterday was my 46th birthday.  Truth be told, I have been celebrating all month so technically this is still the 18th day of my birthday.  The majority of people bombard me on the 17th.  I don’t think they understand the concept of how I celebrate.  Either way, I love them for the texts, calls, emails and cards. I am filled with immense gratitude.  I am a little girl at heart.  I haven’t always been like this.  Waking up after dying for a little while makes you appreciate life in a way that others cannot relate to or want to understand.  That’s okay.  That’s what makes me giggle and keep needing to hear the earth sing every morning. I wake up every day with gratitude for those songs.

Last week I was dancing in my own tutu with little girls while making fairy houses in the woods.  I went in the creek with them.  I danced down the field.  I did what I don’t ever remember doing as a child.  In my family birthdays weren’t a big thing.  They came and went with a small cake, minor recognition and a gift.  There was no party or invitation.  It wasn’t until I left my ex and my mother passed away that I decided I would make up for that.  My ex never acknowledged my birthday.  If it wasn’t about him then it really didn’t pertain to him.  So imagine 41 years of not feeling special about the day you were born?

For as long as I can remember I always wanted a tattoo.  I wanted something that spoke to me about my life.  I’ve waited.  Yesterday my best friend and daughter took me to get one.  The tattoo artists, Baker, who was awesome, said that “A tattoo is a trophy of a good experience.” As I was being shaded, the needle moving back and forth to create the red in the heart around the dragonflies I inhaled deeply and almost cried.  This was going to be my trophy for experiencing the return to my life.  Consequently, the word life is inside the heart.  I sat through him writing it on me being conscious of the letters permanently sticking to my back.  Life has a way of waking you up when you aren’t paying attention.  I am doing more and more the things I have never done.  I am moving through the phases of the dragonfly from birth into the metamorphosis of beauty while passing through love. If I believe and think myself as loved, I can love, believe and accept others. If I forgive myself, I can graciously forgive others. We cannot give what we don’t own in ourselves. If I hold compassion for me, I can surely be compassionate for others. I can give all that I am.

Wow…this is my life, full of love and dragonflies. In a way I felt I was silittlefairytting there naked, raw to the core, thinking of my tutu and dancing with the fairies.  We create from what we know and allow of ourselves.  There’s no difference between me and a homeless person or someone with a needle in their arm ready to check out of this world.  What separates us is the choices we make, the paths taken, and the awareness to continue.  That’s it.  I have been fortunate to have an amazing support system of loved ones who drag my ass out of desperation when I have slipped.

No matter what the struggle is you are still alive and can make a choice.  If you want to dance in a tutu do so.  If you want to sing in the supermarket, do it.  We are here on such little borrowed time to be able to love and enjoy one another.  Don’t let the projection of others or your own insecurities tarnish your dreams.  Go for them. Make them happen.  Now if you would excuse me I have to go find my unicorn and take a ride through the forest.  Have a magical day!

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