And Justice for All

To say I'm an avid Metallica fan is really quite the understatement.

As a fourteen year old teenage girl (I'm now 37) I unashamedly painted my walk in wardrobe black, like a tomb, and slept in it for two years. Totally normal here!

My pride and joy was undoubtedly my CD collection. I had every punk and metal album - that a young girl, working 20 hours per week at Burger King, and skipping school as often as possible, could afford. My Metallica CD's were grouped from release dates. The faces of James, Kirk, Lars and Jason (I was too young for Cliff) draped the walls of my room the same way other girls idolized the Brad Pitts' and the Backstreet Boys. Metallica was a part of me. They made me feel powerful and rebellious in my lower-middle income suburban neighborhood. They gave me a voice against a world of religion, teachers and adults, when they were too ignorant to listen. They made me feel, like me.

My first concert was in 1999 - a Metallica concert at Brisbane Entertainment Center, Australia. I took my sister (who was 18) and some of the neighborhood boys. I wore a midriff Metallica shirt that I'd cut up and re-sown to fit, a black mini skirt and green- 8 hole doc's. My hair was blue black with relentless curls (kind of like Kirks') and my sister had lent me some mascara. I had a 'standing pass' which, back then, was close to the stage, but not right up the front. I easily found my skinny legs flirting their way past the bouncer, into the mosh pit.

What a rush. Crammed right against the front barrier - surrounded by big beefy sweaty men, hands raised in the classic goat horned mudra that headbangers proudly symbolize themselves with (funnily enough this hand gesture is actually a 5000 year old yogic mudra - which symbolizes protection against evil spirits - but we won't get into that).. at a time before the COVID days of 'social distancing' - but also, well before concerts even had proper barriers up. I was in BLISS. This was my heaven.

As Kirk swung into one of his most epic guitar solos, he looked down, right where I was standing (although technically I don't think my feet were touching the floor). As the song came to an end, he lent down to give me the guitar pick he had been playing with. Not even kidding. That was one of my 'I could happily die moments' right there. But wait - it got better. Five minutes later the stage manager came around the front and gave me a back stage pass, and asked me to meet the band after the show.

Now being the sweet young age of 15 I immediately asked to get one for my sister too (plus I had no way of getting home without her), He gave me another pass, and I ran screaming through the mosh pit in an effort to find her blonde head bobbing by the bar.

"Kate, Kate, Holy shit... look what I got"

"What the FUCK.... Lets go"

And, as all good big sisters should do, she pulled me into the bathroom, and gave me some very sound advice:

"As of this moment we are going to say you are 18... BUT... if you lose your virginity tonight - I will fucking kill you"

So, with my newly instilled maturity in tow, we ventured around the back, through the corridors and into the green room. We chatted with the bouncers and the other guests, cracked open a beer and waited nervously.

About ten minutes into our wait, they came in to meet us. In all honesty there was not fucking way I was losing anything to these gigantic creatures. But I made the most of it. We got them to sign our shirts, bras and a poster we ripped off the wall. They were absolute champions. Funny, kind and fucking talented. What a night. Seriously. What a night.

But, the tattoo, yes, the tattoo.

One would think the timeline of this tattoo would correlate to the years of my utmost Metal Dedication. But, you won't find that to be the case. The truth is I got this tattoo last year. A year of great loss, pain and transformation. A year where I had to remember once again, who I really was.

In the world of psychology and yoga, it's often said life goes in 7 years cycles, Cycles of growth, transformation and evolution. Some are easier, some are harder. All ultimately bring us into our higher truth. It's just the way it works.

So the last cycle starts like this, I'll be factual, not dramatic, just to paint the picture. My Dad passes away suddenly with no prior illness, while he is on a trip to France. Six months later my partner goes on a surfing trip and doesn't come back (new girl). I lost a lot of money. Finally, I found myself in another relationship, this one I thought was the one. It appeared more stable and grown up. I was really ready for some stability.

But nope, we don't get that choice. The Universe tends to decide this for us. Laughing at our plans and fabulous intentions with a cosmic grin.

My new partner had 3 kids already, which didn't actually bother me because I love kids. I thought, well I hoped, that this may be the guy I finally get to have a child with....

In the last two years, (the end of the 7 year cycle from HELL) I suffered five miscarriages in a row. One after the other, with a few months in between each one. The last one being tremendously heartbreaking, a late stage miscarriage, with an 8 hour labor and some fun hemorrhaging and hospitalization to just really give me the ultimate experience. Yay - Thanks.

It felt unfair. My partners kids were so beautiful and I was happy to look after them, but I wanted one of my own. I wanted the experience too. My poor body was shattered. I was shattered.

Anyone that has suffered a miscarriage understands the complexity of emotions and thoughts that follow. A deep sense of loss, a relief, shame, grief, anger..... even elation... I don't judge the feelings that come, that's just what they were. A roller coaster of confusion and heartache.

I wondered why this kept happening, the doctors had said there was nothing wrong with my uterus, or bloods. It wasn't making any sense. Something wasn't quite right, and truth be told, I knew that all along.

After the last miscarriage, in the back of my mind, amidst the grief and darkness, there was, as I said before, a subtle sense of relief.... A deeper truth to be experienced. As difficult as it was, I trusted the process.

A few weeks after the last miscarriage, while I was still in shock, I found out my partner had been sleeping with someone else, and had been for quite some time. I mean, why the fuck not add that into this 7 year ball of fun. Whats another trauma really at this point!?

I was devastated, but maybe not surprised. There were too many things in the timeline of our relationship that didn't add up. Too many unanswered phone calls, too many conveniences. I, however, was too tired to really deal with my intuition, because the hormones and heartaches of the previous miscarriages had left my intuition scarred and my body tired. I no longer felt like the vivacious and rebellious creature of my youth. I felt old, and lonely.

The relationship came to its inevitable end, and although it may sound naive and immature, I really do feel like something bigger was protecting me from having a child with this man. As you unravel your denial, after the initial shock, I think you find, that secretly you always knew something was not quite right. Ahhhh, denial, what a dangerous comfort you are.

For about a month after the last miscarriage and the break up, I couldn't function. I felt like a ghost zombie human. A shell. I mean, I could pay the bills and get to work, but Alison had left the building. Shut Shop. Social Distanced!

I felt empty, like I had no base. No structure. No, me. I'd given too much, I'd lost everything, including hope. I longed for the feeling of home, wherever that even was.

Another month had passed, I had moved out of his place and was setting up my own little apartment by the beach. Some days were fun and easy, most just exhausting. I was moving forward, but I missed him, and I hated him, at the same time. I felt so lost in my own skin.

One sunny afternoon, I suddenly felt the urge to go for a run. I've always been a runner, but in the months leading up to, and after the last miscarriage I had put my shoes to the side, just to limit movement in my uterus. Now that my womb was empty, well, I figured it was safe to tie up my laces again.

I live in Byron Bay. A magical coastal town on the eastern coast of Australia.

The light house, which is a good, steep, 4 mile run, through bushland, and along beaches, was my destination. A spark of energy had inspired me to go, so go I did. I didn't know how long the desire would last, so I followed it.

About 2 miles into the steep climb, my mind racing through stories and dramas and the dreaded "If only's", I was going to turn around and go home. The climb was hard, and my head was going mad, it wasn't relaxing. There seemed to be no relief on its way.

As I was about to slow down, disappointed at myself, a familiar song came my Iphone, one I hadn't listed to for years. I looked at the screen, to see the lady of Justice holding up her scales. And Justice For All.

"Justice is lost, Justice is raped, Justice is gone

Pulling your strings, Justice is Done

Seeking no truth, winning is all, find it so grim so true so real"

My heart started pumping as my feet hit the pavement.

Without effort, I picked up my pace, my feet were no longer in my control.

I was on fire.

"The ultimate in vanity, supporting their supremacy

I can't believe the things you say

I Can't believe the price you pay"

The hill was now at the steepest part, steep narrow steps leading the way to the top. I was flying. Literally flying. Another "happy to die moment"

"Nothing can save you"

I made it. I made it to the top.

And as I did, my whole body tingled with power and energy and remembrance. My base roared with fire. My body came back on line and my mind came back to life.

For the first time in years I felt like me again. I was fucking Home.

I ran down the hill, not entirely sure whether I was laughing or crying. Metallica blaring into my bones.

I ran straight to the tattoo shop. Covered in sweat, I asked the guys at Sharky's if they could draw me up a Metallica tattoo.

"Of course" they choir-ed proudly, the gentle giants buzzing their art into arms and legs everywhere.

"You'll have to come back in 45 minutes though love, just finishing up here"

"No problem" I chirped back.

"I'll go for a walk"

Now of course, any time delay meant time to question my choice. I wandered the streets second guessing myself. I mean, I am after all, 37 now. I'm not a fifteen year old girl in a mosh pit. Maybe I was just being silly, maybe I didn't really need another tattoo. Isn't it time I grew up?

But growing up - is what got me so far from myself in the first place, isn't it! So I did what all grown ups do, when making permanent life decisions, and I asked the Universe.

"Universe, If I'm meant to get this tattoo, give me a sign"

And no word of a lie, literally as the words whispered themselves from my lips, a beautiful, four year old, blonde haired boy, turned around in front of me, with the bluest eyes you have ever seen, and screamed...

"MUUUUUUM"

And he was wearing a Metallica shirt.

And I started to cry.

I walked myself back to Sharky's and I enjoyed every second of this tattoo. As the lines engraved themselves onto my arm, I said thank you to all the little souls who popped through for a visit, albeit temporarily, to keep me safe, to point me in the right direction and to say..

"MUUUUUUM - Just be YOU"

Nothing else matters.

The end

Alison Nankivell