Did you know that in Japan when a piece of pottery or something similar cracks, it's repaired with gold lacquer? The result is shoots of gold in the original piece, and while you can still see the cracks, they make what was originally there even more beautiful. I am so in love with this concept I can't even tell you. Even though it's an aesthetic concept, I feel like it also speaks to the idea of honoring the cracks, the broken parts, as part of the whole. I'm trying to do that now: I have a mental illness and that sucks, but it's part of who I am. And I'm close to whole now but I wouldn't be who I am without that mental illness, and I'll never deny its part in my past. Ever.
I've decided on my next tattoo. I'm going to get the word "lost" in Hindi on my left shoulder blade, and the word "found" in Hindi on my right shoulder blade. I've wanted to get a pair of tattoos on my shoulder blades that go together for a long time and this idea just came to me a week or so ago. Initially I was going to do it with Kanji symbols, so it would kind of match what I already have, but I really love how the words in Hindi look, so I'm going to go with that. I'm really looking forward to these tattoos because there's a lot of meaning in them for me. To me they represent this journey I've been on: I was lost and distraught and struggling, and now I'm found and doing well. I'm getting both words because both concepts are equally important to the journey.
My right upper leg is covered with self harm scars. Some of them are old and faded, some of them are newer and bright, and I see them whenever I go to the bathroom or shower or change. I used to hate them and feel like I should cover them up, but now when I see them, I feel like they're a reminder of how dark things used to be and how far I've come. In a weird way I've come to love that old, broken me, and I like having a reminder of it. That probably doesn't make a lot of sense but . . . I don't know. Maybe it's because I struggled with issues of identity and self for so long; in a way it's nice to know that that me was still real, even if that part of me is in the past now.
Benji was broken when I got him and even though it drove me crazy sometimes I loved him anyway. When I was feeding him soft dog food by hand just to get him to eat and taking him on the longest walks ever so he'd go to the bathroom or scrubbing dog poop out of my carpet because he had nervous accidents, I loved him. And the thought of getting rid of Benji never once crossed my mind, because it just wasn't an option. It was worth it because in return I got lots of laughs and entertainment, a protectiveness you wouldn't think was possible in something that weighs like 4 pounds, an intense loyalty that really is what they mean when they call dogs man's best friend, and a tiny little thing who did a happy little dance whenever I came home and cuddled up to me every night in bed. Max is even more broken than Benji was but I have absolute faith that if I give him love and time he'll be an awesome companion, so just like with Benji, giving up on him is not an option. If you love a broken something or someone enough to stick it out, it will always be worth it in the end. I love finally being in a place where I believe that.
Anyway. Just some of what's been on my mind lately. Lots more to come, I think.
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