My first tattoo is of a rising Phoenix. She’s flying out of the flames below. It’s full color, although faded with time, like me. And also like the Phoenix, I rose from fiery depths. At the time I got this first tat, I had recovered from a near-fatal car wreck of my own making.
It was a low point in my life; a sad isolated time of despair when I felt no one cared one iota about me. And it was true. I had built sturdy, impenetrable walls around me, which I thought would protect me. They did protect. They protected me not only from the outside world but from those few folks who did care about me. But I was good at blocking others out. I was good at many things that were not helpful for me. As an active alcoholic, I designed my own disasters like that car wreck.
But in a solo crash that should have killed me, I survived and after suffering through unimaginable pain I realized I was stronger than I ever imagined.
Inner strength was something I believed never had. It was never nurtured into me when I was young. Certain ingredients were left out of my recipe, so I always felt different than other kids who were so strong and assured. I didn’t get it, didn’t understand.
I learned my own difficult way, through heartache, and nearly killing myself.
Eventually down the road I learned how strong I could be and hey, I’m not such a bad person after all. And that TRUTH has helped me rise like the Phoenix more than once.
It helps me rise one more time. I rose from barely walking with a cane to on my way to running stronger and farther than I ever have before. Things are looking up and I’m not looking back.
PS: The picture is NOT my tattoo, but it was too difficult to take a picture of my back tat!
Inspirational blog post. 🏃♀️👊🙌🏃♀️