I grew up in a world where tattoos were a symbol of teenage rebellion, boredom and taking on "The Man." For whatever reason, I remember that as an eight year old I had no hesitation judging those who had chosen to mark up their bodies with symbols, pictures and words. I came to understand that tattoos were only for people who wanted to throw their lives away and would never be hired into the professional world.
The world progressed, became more accepting and I started to take noticed. I acknowledge that getting a tattoo "would never be something I wanted to do, but I have no problem with other people doing it."
During my senior year of high school about six girls I knew got tattoos for their birthdays. I remember rolling my eyes and thinking like my eight year old self, "it's just a symbol of teenage rebellion. They're doing it not because they want to, but because they can."
One by one each girl returned to school, prepared to show off their freshly inked skin, but I began to noticed something different. One girl had a quote from her grandfather, written in her grandmother's handwriting, on her ribs. Another girl had the paw print of her recently passed childhood dog on her shoulder. Another had a hibiscus flower on her ankle, symbolizing her Polynesian heritage.
It finally hit me: tattoos are so much more than just some doodle on your skin. They have depth, passion, and meaning hidden between swirling lines and vibrant colors.
From that moment on, the idea of getting a tattoo never left my head. I started thinking about the message that so many tattoos have behind them and what I would get if I ever had the guts to follow through with one. Eventually I decided that it would an evergreen tree behind my left ear, symbolizing my roots in the northwest.
Fast forward to my freshman year of college and my nineteenth birthday: I felt like my life was stuck in a rut and I had no idea how to get out. I was bored, frustrated, and I wanted to do something spontaneous and uncharacteristic. I thought about chopping off my hair, but the idea of a bob terrified me. The next logical idea somehow became getting a tattoo.
I started researching tattoo parlors in the area, but deep down I wasn't 100% committed to the drastic idea. At the time I knew it was best to wait until I was positive of my decision, but I was disappointed in my inability to follow through and take a risk.
Jumping ahead another eight months to my sophomore year: I was still stuck in that rut. One day I started having a conversation about tattoos with one of my best friends and we both agreed we were ready to get one. I assumed that since it had been almost a year and the idea was still in my mind, I was prepared.
After verbally committing, things moved pretty quickly. The date was set, the appointment was scheduled, and I was sweating like I had never sweat before. I knew that I was ready, but deep down my childhood fears were kicking in. Was this really what I wanted? Would I be able to get a job? Am I being too risky with my life?
Amidst the confusion I sat down and decided to write out exactly why I wanted a tattoo, why it was important to me, and what it would symbolize. With meaningful words on the page I finally felt confident and prepared. I spent the afternoon sketching out what I wanted it to look like, hoping that the tattoo artist could work from there.
The actual process of getting my tattoo is still a bit of a blur. The artist was incredibly cool and ended up scanning my sketch directly as a template for my tattoo, making it that much more unique and personal. The pain was essentially non-existent and it took less than ten minutes for him to complete the piece. When I left I was stoked about my new ink and ready to show it off.
The most important feeling for me, however, came directly after I walked out of the shop. It was a moment where something changed inside me and I realized it was okay to be unsure of something, but follow through with it anyways. I finally listened to the voice in the back of my head and could feel a weight lift off my shoulders.
My tattoo now stands for so much more than just my roots in the northwest. It's a symbol of taking risks and experiencing the feeling of doing something so uncharacteristic that it breaks down the expectations you have of yourself. Everyone always tells you to do one crazy thing in your life that makes you step outside of your comfort zone; I guess I never realized that doing so would make me stronger than I could've ever imagined. It's taken a year, and some pretty incredible experiences, but I think I can finally say that I got out of that rut. I just never knew that adding some ink to my life would make the difference.
