Mythology says that the Phoenix is a creature that rises from its own ashes after burning down. The name itself originated from the Greek word for "red", the universal color of fire. Being the bird of fire, Phoenix can be aptly used to symbolize a person's inner fire and zest for life. The Phoenix bird epitomizes the rebirth and resurrection from the ashes. You can use this symbol if you have had a tough patch in life and successfully overcame it.
For the past year, I've been considering getting some sort of a memorial tattoo and I wanted to have it done on a meaningful date. I could never quite figure out what design I wanted or where I would want it placed on my body. Since it is permanent, I chose to let every significant date in the past year slip by without getting my tattoo. After all, I would rather do nothing than do something that I would regret every day for the rest of my life.
For the first 9 months or so after Chuck died, all I did was allow myself to grieve. I kept almost everything in my home, in my head, in my heart and in my life the exact same as it always was. I'm glad I did it that way. There was no getting around the grief. It definitely is something that takes time. Lots and lots of time.
But for the last few months, I started to become restless. I started to really want to be able to tuck away some of my grief and start reinvesting in life again. I simply got plain old tired of living in misery and looking forward to nothing.
So I pushed myself. I've had the encouragement of others through it all. But it was me who had to make the decision to move forward in the healing process. It wasn't easy. Some things were less difficult than others. But none of it was easy. From removing my wedding ring, to packing away his belongings, to dating, to feeling okay about laughing and enjoying things again. Or simply changing my day-to-day actions and thoughts. I would take a big step forward and then be still for awhile to process and chart my progress. Once I adjusted to my most recent step forward, I knew it was time to move on to the next difficult task. Even in those times it appeared I was at a stand still, I was still doing my grief work.
A couple of months ago, I really started looking at how far I've come. I went back and read a lot of things I wrote in the beginning. That proved especially helpful during those times I was sure I hadn't made any progress at all. That's when I started feeling better. That's when I realized that I will not only survive, but that I will most definitely be okay...or even better than okay.
That's the moment I decided I didn't want a traditional memorial tattoo. I wanted something to symbolize my experience as a whole. My past, present and future. My survival. My strength. My courage. My ability to rise above one of the worst possible experiences.
That, to me, is what a Phoenix symbolizes.
I began searching online for Phoenix pictures and designs. After viewing literally hundreds of them one really stood out to me every time I looked at it. I knew right then and there that the version of a Phoenix that most symbolized my experience would look something like that.
So, without further ado, here is how I spent my evening yesterday...on the one year anniversary of Chuck's death:
(It's on my upper back...and it's not nearly as big as the picture makes it look. But it's much more beautiful than the picture portrays it. And, yes, it is a unique design. It's based on a picture I found online but it was drawn exclusively for me.)
If you know me at all, you know that I have always been a poor decision maker. It's gotten even worse in the last year. But this was all me. That's one reason I told very few people about my plans. I didn't want any outside influence. I chose the design. I went in the tattoo shop and talked to my artist about what I wanted. I picked the date. And everything just felt right.
I did ask Chris to go with me to my appointment. I didn't need him there to "hold my hand" through the process. It was just an experience I wanted to share with him. I was never really even nervous. I did have a few minutes of excited nervousness before we got there. But I was never really scared or unsure nervous.
When my artist showed me the drawing, I absolutely couldn't wait to get it done. I knew the moment I looked at it that I would love it. Chris even told me that out of all the people he's gone with to get their first tattoo, he's never seen someone so confident about it. I had no doubts whatsoever.
I won't lie and say it wasn't painful. But I earned that tattoo. After everything I've gone through in the past year to earn it, this was by far the least painful aspect of it. This might sound strange but every time that needle pierced my skin, I felt more and more liberated. It was as if the pain of the procedure released so much of the built up tension in my body. To me, it felt like some sort of a ceremonial release of the pain and sadness.
After it was finished I was in awe of its beauty. I felt proud of myself. Not only proud that I took this step on my own, but proud of the strength I've had to persevere. Like the legendary Phoenix, I am reinventing myself and renewing my life. I am rising from the ashes.
I instantly felt like a new woman. I am proud. I am capable. I am strong.
I am alive.
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