Tattoos Are Therapeutic, I Swear...And Definitely Addictive

Last night, I finally got my Derek tattoo!

My tattoo, right after Saka finished it. Perfection!

This past Friday at Liz's, we had decided to all go get tattoos together ('we' is me, Liz, and Nikki). Unfortunately, Liz wasn't able to come get her tattoo with us, but since the guy at the tattoo shop let us book our appointments over the phone without putting down deposits Nikki and I went ahead and got our tattoos without her, but she was definitely there in spirit! No worries though, they're going to fly down to Florida in January for a visit so we can get another one together like planned.

My tattoo had such a special meaning for me - it's a line from the song "Float On" by Modest Mouse, which was played at Derek's visitation when he passed away. I'd liked the song before this happened because I've been a HUGE Modest Mouse fan for a really long time, but something about it clicked for me at that particular time when I heard it. It made me realize that some really horrible shit is going to happen in life but you pick up, regroup, and move on to better days and circumstances. Derek's death was pretty much the worst thing to happen in my life to date, but I survived it. And not only did I survive it, but I've learned from it and grown since it happened. So now, five years after his death, he's finally memorialized permanently on my body. I get that some people think getting a tattoo to honor someone's memory is dumb, but for me, it was therapeutic. The physical pain of the tattoo will never match the emotional pain of losing Derek, but the point is that tattoos are flesh wounds, and wounds like that heal. In a few weeks, after the skin has scabbed and peeled, my tattoo will have healed completely, but that area on my foot will forever be tainted with scar tissue. Getting this tattoo for Derek has helped my heart heal, but there's going to be scar tissue there forever, and sometimes it's still going to hurt, and that's okay.

About three minutes into getting it done.

Notice my death grip on the chair's arm. 

Nikki's tattoo was really special and important to her, too, but that's certainly her story to tell. I will share pictures though, because getting inked with her is part of MY story, ovbiously.

Nikki with Saka, the guy who did my tattoo.

This face is pretty priceless for me. Asian, the guy who did her tat, is amazing by the way.

Nikki's fresh, beautiful ink!

A shot of mine a few hours after it was done - my foot certainly looks a little swollen and there are masking tape marks all over it where he taped saran wrap to it.

I Hope You Had the Time of Your Life

Every person has some kind of event in their life that they'll never forget where they were when they found out. For masses of Baby Boomers, hearing of president JFK's death was a pivotal moment in history. For my generation, 9/11 will never be forgotten.

but what about the smaller, personal

tragedies that change your life?

I was driving to Wendy's when I found out. What a perfectly blase event, right? I never did make it there because my world shattered a half a mile away, on the side of the road by Moses Auto Mall. Jamie called me to let me know....

Derek's gone.

My life was instantly turned upside-down and inside-out. The world was a different place, and it was the end of life as I knew it. Nothing would ever be the same. A beautiful presence in my life was gone. 

These are the types of moments you'll never forget. They'll haunt you, in your dreams, in your thoughts, in your mind's eye. You can try to avoid remembering them, but it is impossible. They've changed you in ways that are innumerable. Moments like this change your DNA, change the person you are and the person you were meant to grow into. 

It's up to you to learn from moments like this, to take something positive away from it if at all possible.

I couldn't find anything positive for over four and a half years, though. I struggled with losing him daily, in ways that I fought futilely to hide from the world, even those closest to me. I was angry; mad at Derek, mad at the world, mad at the God I eventually lost faith and belief in. 

In May, everything changed for me. I was at home alone, and it was yet another one of those pivotal moments I'll never forget.

I planned out my suicide.

Life wasn't worth living anymore, and my husband deserved way better than having to deal with a crazy wife. I believed in my mind that everyone in my life would be better off without me. I began packing a few things to take to San Francisco, not that I needed much since I wouldn't be coming back alive. But it was then that I had a glimmer of a thought: Maybe I shouldn't do this. 

The one second's pause gave me enough of a chance to call my husband to have him take me to a psychiatric facility.

I spent some time there, attending group therapy and individual therapy sessions. I talked through my issues and came to a few life-changing realizations.

First of all, I felt like I could finally understand what Derek was thinking. Despite him being the funniest, most cheerful person I'd ever known, he had demons he just couldn't escape or show anyone. 

Second of all, I could finally let go of my anger towards him. Now that I'd been on the brink just like he had and I felt like I understood why he was gone, I couldn't be angry anymore. I was finally empathetic to him and what he suffered through. I'd been to hell and back, too, but I made it out alive and he didn't. 

I'll never forget what Derek and his life taught me. He taught me to tell someone when you're struggling and need help, because there truly is help out there. He taught me to embrace every moment I'm given because I'm not guaranteed the next one. He taught me to tell people I love them, and tell them often, because I don't know when it's going to be the last time I get to say it. He taught me to take joy in the silly things and appreciate a good laugh. He taught me to love without abandon or fear.

He may be gone, but I'll never forget him or stop loving him.