Grief and Tattoos

The year after my mom’s death, I decided to get a tattoo. She would have KILLED ME.

Losing Mom had changed me emotionally, spiritually, and mentally- yet physically I remained unchanged. Something felt… off. It felt as though the exterior that had always been, no longer matched who I was on the inside. I had an overwhelming desperation for a physical reminder of her. I could feel the missing her on my skin. Continue reading “Grief and Tattoos”

Perfectionism and Grief Cannot Coexist

I am a born and bred perfectionist.

Like, it was a problem my parents had to really monitor when I was a kid. Apparently I would completely lose it if I drew something and it didn’t come out looking realistic… when I was four. Pretty sure those bluebirds were gonna look like blobs no matter how hard I tried.

I have a vivid memory from when I was just a little one. I don’t recall what the spark was, but I was alone in my room, organizing my stuffed animals (because what kid doesn’t organize their belongings for fun?!), and I found myself getting so frustrated with myself and my inability to have complete control. The specifics of the memory are so overpowered by this raw sense of desperate frustration and anger. Just by thinking about it, I can recall those feelings into my body, they are so strong and I think, in some ways, inherent in who I am. Continue reading “Perfectionism and Grief Cannot Coexist”