Uncaged

I spent a lifetime attempting to abuse my body into a pleasing package. Often, I was successful in making myself small,in all the ways a woman is told to be- in a whisper or a yell, or a glance- the message was clear. For as long as I can remember, it felt like my body didn’t belong to me. It felt normal to be caged in my body. The rungs on the cage were invisible, but effective. They were secured by shame and expectations that being human made impossible to meet. I could never be a good girl for long. Something stronger than the facade always found a way to come through, like my body was haunted. This spirit cared nothing for what “they” expected of me. She craved more. She planted visions in my head of desires and longing that pushed against the bars- until I broke into pieces.

This happened ever so gradually and not without struggle. How many times did I try to quietly pick the lock, only to end up where I started? I had a lot of company in the cage, though the activities were killing what was bright and good in me. Diets kept me weak and disconnected from my body, but I had a lot of cheerleaders to count calories with, to drag me back in. Being the good wife, daughter, mother- had rules I could never keep straight. I was always breaking them and tiptoeing around the shards or pretending they didn’t hurt when I stepped on them. Even as I stepped into becoming a more authentic self, it was in service of others.

I recognized that folks don’t often allow themselves to be present, to take care of themselves in ways that are necessary, but we are told is indulgent. When I became a massage therapist 11 years ago, I wanted to create a safe space for folks to just BE present. In this space, something miraculous and heartbreaking happened. I noticed more and more that women apologized that I had to touch them, that I had to care for their unruly bodies.

It became my intention to create a space that was safe for ALL bodies, and in doing this-I had to include my own. I took my first steps into body liberation and before long, I was all in. I had 3 tattoos then. All of them were hidden away, so as to be an acceptable professional person. I followed my favorite tattoo artists on Instagram and coveted more ink, but never allowed myself to dream of more than what could be tucked away and appropriate.

My first visible tattoos are on the inside of my forearms. My left arm has script that says Be Present and my right says It’s a Choice, so I remember to choose it. Sometimes I choose a hundred times a day, but it’s a choice. They are small bits of ink, but I agonized over the placement. What if folks disapproved? Once they were there though, I felt more like me. I reached out to my favorite artists and began a serious collection. I can hardly pick one to praise more than the others because they all punctuate a time in my life or celebrate a person I love, and that includes me. I have tattoos for my kids, my parents, my gramma, my favorite Aunty, my friends, my loves, beloved books. I have them for me. My tattoos are a celebration of the body I have right now, just as it is-fat, short, stretch-marked, aging and perfectly imperfect. I have tattoos on body parts I used to cringe at when I looked in the mirror. Now I look at my reflection with appreciation every day. That’s no small thing.

I have a tree that’s roots reach down onto my right foot and branches that reach up to my knee. The artist I worked with drew it freehand so that it would compliment the natural shape of my leg. My legs that have always been thick as tree trunks, are quite beautifully celebrated now. I am ever reverent of trees. The forest is my happy place. In that tree are two birds that represent my parents. Above the tree is a sun and moon mandala that represents a lifelong friendship that I cherish. She is my single largest tattoo if you don’t count the collections on both arms that are nearing full sleeves. I also have small tattoos that may seem insignificant, like the tiny unalome on my left middle finger with a singing bowl.

Last year I took an intensive class learning Vibrational Sound Therapy with therapeutic singing bowls. During this training there was an opportunity to be in the water with the big mama grounding bowls. The caged me would have opted out of this exercise, because it meant being in a bathing suit. I didn’t though, and it was indescribably beautiful. So, big or small, all my tattoos are significant.

Tattoos have been a gift of coming home to myself. I no longer worry or wonder if I fit a ridiculous mold that was created by others, and in turn I show up more completely with the people I love, including myself. Go figure.