Triangles represent strength.
Pillars of greatness.
Unity.
Upward facing triangles represent a strong foundation.
Power.
Stability.
5 years ago, the foundation that I had tried to build a life upon erupted.
Instantaneously it exploded.
I remember wailing in agony to a few within my circle, “I’ve been told winds will come. I’ve been told rain will come. But if my foundation is strong, I will stand.” I remember my state of unrest. I remember being bent over in grief as my shoulders slunk due to the weight I had been carrying. I remember every muscle in my body tense trying to protect me.
I remember asking a very rhetorical question yet desperate to find answers, “What happens when an earthquake erupts and disintegrates everything that you thought you knew?”
I humbly profess with deepest acknowledgment, no one prepares you for that kind of destruction.
The lily represents rebirth. New life. Love. Devotion. It represents two of the most important people in this entire universe to me. It represents why I made one of the best decisions of my life. It represents life-saving. It represents life-giving. These two have been my reason. My reason for love. My reason for truth. My reason for life. I will choose life all the time. Every time. I want to be a part of their nurturing. I want to see them grow.
The violet represents wisdom and humility. This delicate yet strong flower represents modest affirmation and adoration. It represents nourishment. It represents dignified beauty. It represents foundational care. It represents me. I have fought for me. I have fought for the woman that I am today. I have bonded with those that have helped me in this fight. Hard truths have been poured on me through words, songs, voices, pictures, experiences, adventures, and prayers. My humble and grateful heart embraces them.
What happens when an earthquake erupts and disintegrates everything that you thought you knew?
I don’t know what others do.
I sought therapy. Talk therapy. EMDR. Each week I would see my therapist and my EDMR therapist. Each week I would trudge into their offices. Sit on their couches. Shake. Cry. Wail. When I thought that the only hope to get out of the destruction was death, I created a safety plan with my therapists. I called hotlines so that I could talk to someone without revealing my identity and created a safety plan to protect myself and those innocent little lilies.
When things beyond my control began to break me, I found something that I could control. I stopped eating. As irrational as it seems, and without realizing what I was doing until someone acknowledged my weight loss, it was something that I could control. I tried to numb the pain with alcohol. The lies that I read and later realized were being spread about me were too much for me to handle. I know that some have heard that I have anger issues. I know that some have heard that I have mental issues that makes me unfit to be a mother. I know that some have heard that I have committed financial fraud. I know that some have heard that I have ties to a foreign and dangerous country. I know that some have heard a lot of things about me.
Pause.
The silence and betrayals make me wonder if it’s easier for some to live in lies than begin to understand and hear the truth.
Pause.
I turned away from God. I told others that I didn’t believe in God or any gods. I told myself that there was nothing beyond this life.
I yelled at the top of my lungs an early morning on the Goat’s Trail at the Buffalo River. A yell so loud my throat hurt but cleansed my soul. I listened as my echo permeated through the valley. It was startling. It was grounding. In all my pain, it was beautiful. I wrote to God and expressed my anger. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He listened. I didn’t receive any punishment for expressing my anger. He listened. He opened His arms. He said, “I know.” “I have seen everything.” “I hear you.” “I see you.” “I understand.” “I’m sorry.”
I needed to hear and feel those words.
As the dust settled from the eruption of the earthquake, I rummaged through the wreckage for anything that I wanted to take away from ground zero. Underneath the rubble, I found three little seeds. I gently and ever so diligently placed them in a handkerchief and delicately put them in my pocket.
I left the epicenter and began searching for fertile and rich soil to place the seeds in. Once I found nutritious, sturdy, and stable soil I tenderly placed the seeds in the soil. With my strong hands and gathered wisdom, I began nurturing them to life.
This new soil that I have found is robust and rich. I know because of how I feel. I feel joy. Not the feelings that generate superficial happy motions.
Joy.
The type of joy that flows through the deep river of pain and scales to the top of the breathtaking mountain.
My first tattoo is more than just a piece of body art. It’s a staple piece. It’s remembrance. It’s growth. It’s core building. It’s foundational strength.
It’s devotion to myself. It’s devotion to the kids.
It’s acknowledgment. It’s awareness.
It’s grounding.
It’s who I am.
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