Because I knew him...

I have realized in the past few days that I can think of Nathan and smile...

I'm not sure that it has anything to do with the tattoo, but that's when I started noticing it- last night. I can talk about him and reminisce about him without the dark humor defense. Don't get me wrong, I still make the dark jokes from time to time but... there is a lot less sting in them than there used to be.

Last night I was talking about him and laughing about how funny he was. He always said that he thought he was funny because I did, but it's not true. He was hilarious. And Kara and I were talking about how funny he was and it just felt good. It didn't feel like I was touching a tender spot. I could say, "I miss that kid," and not want to cry. Kara and I like to talk about college a lot. We love reminiscing about the "glory days." And that's what talking about Nathan is starting to feel like. This amazing wonderful time in my past, that isn't here anymore, but I can look back and just *love* without being incapacitated by wanting it to still be that way.

Today I was talking about him with some friends... reminiscing about when we first got together, and how the general population of Scholars House felt about it. And how much of a flirt he was... even after we were married. (Not in a malicious or unfaithful way, but in the way that made people feel good about themselves.... though I will admit we had to have some conversations about a few girls because they might have been taking it in a way he didn't mean.) And just how dang cute he was. He was sooo freaking attractive. I know that people are generally drawn to people who are the same (or greater) level of attractive as yourself. I hope it's true, because that puts me in a much higher attractive tier than I'd place myself in.

But anyway... I guess what I'm saying is that I feel like I've reached a new level in the healing process. Not that I will ever ever ever forget... but... the wounds aren't in that red inflamed stage anymore... maybe that's another reason why I wanted the tattoo... it's a physical representation of grief. At least for me. Something that I never thought I could do, but somehow did anyway.  They are both painful, require a healing process, and will always be a part of me and who I become. And some people are appalled/scared by it, but I think it's a part of what makes me beautiful.

Nathan made me feel more beautiful than I ever thought I was, but I think that living through his death has actually made me more beautiful than I ever was.***

It's certainly changed my life.

When we were picking out songs for the funeral Paula asked me what I thought about putting in "For Good" from Wicked. I discovered Wicked in college and fell in love with the soundtrack. *in looooove.* Nathan I went to see it on our honeymoon and again (with Paula) when it came to St. Louis one winter. My first response to her was that I didn't think that I could do it... That it would be too hard to handle... but as I tried to come up with music that fit him and how I/we/everyone felt about him... it was just right. I did find a different version than the soundtrack, just so I'd be able to still watch the show and hear the music without falling to pieces. But we played it at the funeral, and I remember sitting in the pew, tears running down my face "singing" it to him (not actually using my voice) and not caring that I must have looked completely nuts. But I had to tell him, because it is *so* true. Because I knew him I have been changed for good.

 I don't think it's any surprise to people that I find a lot of healing in songs. I sorta talk about it all the time. The lyrics of one struck me tonight (the whole song isn't applicable, but this part is.)

I found piece of mind, I'm feeling good again
I'm on the other side, back among the living
Ain't a cloud in the sky, All my tears have been cried
And I can finally say,[...parts that aren't applicable because it's about a break up...]
I know everything's gonna be okay

***please note that I'm well aware that I'm still far far far from anything approaching perfect.

Dunn Done

It's done.

I kinda can't believe I went through it... I likened it to having a child earlier (only way way way easier.) But just in the respect that you spend all this time planning and thinking about it and it's kinda painful, but when the time comes you just get through it, cause once you commit there ain't no going back.

 I call this one- "Perspective:
and also let me model my iphone...
Also my tag is sticking out.

And then you keep being surprised at how surprising it is.

I literally keep saying to myself, "I have a tattoo!"

I went to a small group tonight with the sole purpose of showing it off. Everyone was kind enough to indulge me in "oooh-ing and ahhh-ing"

This one wasn't taken in the mirror so it is *actually*
how it looks- Right shoulder, facing in.

I love it. I hope you do, too, but even if you don't,

I love it.

Kit-Kats and Tattoos

All of the blogs that I read had pretty serious updates yesterday about the state of their lives. (The people's lives, not the blogs' lives. Blogs don't write themselves.)

I had a poem about a Kit-Kat.

I started this blog a few years ago without any sort of dedication and I wrote about songs and lemon bars and gummi bears. Oh and my ginormous head.

I've just realized that I *should* have been writing songs about lemon bars, gummi bears, and my ginormous head. That's a country music classic in the making... or maybe a dance club mix.

Then Nathan died and every post was so hard and heavy but super meaningful and important.

And now I'm trending more towards what it was when I began, and sometimes I feel like I should really talk about things that are more important, but it's really hard to write brilliant posts every day. Sometimes you have a day where nothing brilliant happens, and you just don't feel clever enough to make something up.

We are in the last 12 hours of me being tattoo free. It's happening Friday at 1. And then the era of mothers loving me inexplicably will end. Cause the reason why moms love me is my tattoo-free countenance, not my sweet personality and general similarity to themselves. One cannot be wholesome if they have a tattoo. It's a proven fact.

I jest. I'm hoping that moms still love me post-tattoo. (Especially my own.) It's not like I'm doing it on a lark or anything. I've thought and thought and thought about it. I've probably thought about it so much that I've over-thought about it and have made it all the way around to just thinking about it, again. And it's really meaningful to me... and it always will be.

And yes I realize this is like the third post I've made... or possibly the thirtieth post I've made, justifying it. But remember how I even want the Taliban to like me? Still true.

Crap. There is probably something in the Koran or the Taliban code that is against tattoos or women with tattoos, isn't there? You like how I just made up a rulebook for the Taliban?

 It suddenly occurred to me that it's possible that I'm being super racist right now, and I don't even know it. I'm going to stop talking about this now.

I guess the thing is some people, when they know that someone isn't going to agree with them, get super defensive and belligerent. Suddenly if you disagree with their opinion then you are *wrong* and you suck and they are gonna LET YOU KNOW!

I go the other way. If I make a decision and I know that you aren't going to agree with me I bring my own judgement into question. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should rethink this thing... maybe I suck! (ok honestly, I have enough self-worth to not think I suck. But it's more likely that than that you suck. That's not true at all.)

And I guess, to bring this blog back around full circle, that's why I thought that I should write something personal and deep about my life... because everyone else did, so that must be what I should do.

Or maybe I'll keep writing poems about Kit-Kats. (God bless William Carlos Williams and his easily manipulated poetry!)

The Red Kit-Kat Bar

so much depends
upon

a red Kit-Kat
bar

coated in a glossy
wrapper

beside the white
toaster.

A bit of irresponsibility

I had a good day.

Good Church service today (though I woke up later than I meant to and thus barely made it to church on time.... well technically it was a little after time.)

Then I made potatoes at the church... and it turns out the church service is exactly the right amount of time to bake them... well, at least today it was.

Then everyone telling me how good they smelled after church. (That wasn't my plan, I just had no other way to get them ready in time for lunch.) But I loved that everyone was raving about the smell.

Then a great lunch with lots of random people from church.

Then I came home and cleaned and straightened the living daylights out of my place, so that for the first time I feel like I can have people over and not apologize for the mess.

Then I registered for the GRE.

Then I had people over to play games, which was fun.

Then Kara hung out with me for a while, and I'm not sure how, but we got on the topic of tattoos... and she tried to convince me that I should get one on Friday.

And I'm actually considering it. - Melissa, I can hear your excited, "ooooh!" from here. -Across time and space!

Not because Kara said so (Though she might try and convince you otherwise.)

But because the timing does seem fortuitous... marking the transition between work and going into a Master's program. It's been well over a year since Nathan died...so we've passed the "no big decisions deadline," and most of the reasons why I'm hesitant to do it are not about me at all, but about other people and how they will react.

And I guess it kinda comes down to this.

I dislike that there is nothing about me on the outside that says I've changed.  It doesn't feel right. When you get married it's a big deal. There is this symbol that you wear and show to the world. You are different and you have proof of it... there is a physical symbol of this inward change. But we don't even do mourning clothes anymore. I took my ring off relatively quickly because I didn't want it to be this big deal hard thing... but I've changed *so* much and I really want to feel like I have proof. Some sort of permanent mark to demonstrate that I'm not the same girl who started this life. I've been marked. I'm different. It's not a scar. It's beautiful, but it's not something that will ever go away. I always told Nathan he could get a tattoo if he wanted one, post cancer. Seems fitting that I allow myself to get one, post cancer.

I haven't changed my mind at all on what or where. (See this post) And I still love all of the symbolism. That it's traditional- that it means a safe return home (after a struggle), Love and loyalty to family, a hardship survived, a victory gained. I even like the idea that the swallow carries your soul to heaven if you die at sea... seems fitting that there is some sort of connection to death... but that it's full of hope- not despair.

I guess the thing is that I know I want to get this tattoo... I even want to explain it to strangers who ask. I just don't want to have to explain it to my loved ones...

But then again, they have to love me tattooed or non-tattooed. Right?

But Friday? I mean who even knows if I could get it done that soon... and do I want to be dealing with a new tattoo when I'm taking the GRE?

But at the same time there is something in me that just wants to let go a little bit, and do something that perhaps isn't the best plan. I guess I'm craving a bit of irresponsibility.

Fear or Will

It might be overkill to get Starbucks two days in a row during lunch... but I went for a week without it. Not without coffee, mind you, but without the sweet nectar of white chocolate peppermint... it was rough.

I frequently shock people by telling them I grew up an hour away from the closest McDonalds and/or Wal-mart.

We won't even think about how far away the closest Starbucks is... Quincy I think... Quincy is in a different STATE. (and approx. 1.5 hours from home and 30 minutes from Hannibal.)

Ok, maybe we will think about it.... speaking of thinking...

I'm considering a tattoo again.. only slightly more seriously since it's coming up on a year and I'm about to be able to make "big" life decisions again.

I've been thinking a lot about several issues related to it. Tattoos were not condoned in the church I grew up in. In the Vineyard no one cares. I've looked into the Biblical references and I personally believe that it is morally acceptable.

They are also socially accepted in a way they never have been before- even here in the Bible belt. Granted they aren't quite so socially accepted in my immediate family. I'm pretty sure my grandmothers would freak out and I don't think either mom would like it much... (Though my mom said that since I'm adult she should probably let me make my own decisions :) ) I don't know that I'd get much of an opinion out of either dad.

The only other person who I am concerned about is (and you may think I'm crazy for this) but my future spouse. See, I don't know who that is... and I would hope that he wouldn't care-- especially because this is not a snap decision and it will mean/symbolize a lot to me... but if I come from a relatively conservative family, then chances are the man I marry is also going to come from a relatively conservative family... and probably be relatively conservative himself.  I'd hate to think I'd done something that he might find morally reprehensible... but then again would I *want* to marry someone who couldn't unbend enough to understand why I would want a tattoo?

What does it say about me that I'm trying to take into account the feelings of a person I don't know? Am I holding back from living because of fear or am I simply making a responsible decision? Not sure I know the answer to that one.

Interestingly enough, after writing this I watched the Green Lantern movie... and in that movie (and maybe the comic books?) the two opposing forces are not "good and evil" but "fear and will"... That feels a whole lot more like the struggles I face every day.

Impulse control and scandalousness

I almost just made this my facebook status:

Last July I sent an e-mail to Nathan, entitled, "this can't be my facebook status :(" I think the proof of how much I've changed is in the fact that I don't mind sharing it now because I think it's hilarious: "I just took a drink of water and spilled it all down my front... but through the miracle of breasts and a bra, my shirt didn't get even a drop on it.
Just thought you should know."

Though it's still scandalous enough that I considered hiding it from my mothers.

Hi, mothers.

I didn't actually make it my facebook status, because... well it's kinda scandalous... (Hey if you can't say scandalous things on your blog, what good is a blog?) And while there is something within me that craves being scandalous there is something else that is afraid of people getting upset by my scandalous-ness. Thus why I have hair extensions in every color of the rainbow except yellow. (Darn you, yellow! Where are you?!) but no actual colored bits of hair. (Well, that and the maintenance of that hair seems like it would be hard.) Thus why I have a tattoo design and placement picked out that I love, but no actual tattoo. Thus why I didn't post this as my facebook status when it originally happened.

I've discovered in this process of figuring out who I am again that impulse control is something I'm having to relearn. Through cancer, especially the last months of it there was no impulsive-ness. Everything except medical emergencies was planned and anything unplanned sent us into tailspins. The spontaneous was completely quashed.

After Nathan's death it's been the opposite. I've been trying to embrace everything as it comes. Make a decision, put it into action. Now. Don't plan- do. If it makes you laugh it's gold. If it makes you feel alive, it's wonderful. Buy that macbook, sign up for the classes, drive to the church to get your phone and then decide to go downtown to a party on the spur of the moment. And heaven help the cute pair of tights that come across my path.

There have been some notable exceptions. I didn't go skydiving, because Kara and Rhonda told me that I was talking crazy talk. I haven't gotten a tattoo, cause Rhonda told me I should wait for the year mark to make sure I still wanted to. I didn't go to Starbucks today even though I really wanted to.

But I certainly haven't found an equilibrium at all, and I'm not sure how to re-learn something that used to be instinctive. I didn't used to have to focus on self-control and doing things that I didn't really want to and not doing things that I did.

I don't want to go back to the way that I was... Honestly, I was pretty repressed. But I don't want to lose all that I had, either. And I *never* want to think that Nathan wouldn't like the person who I am now. So I guess now I have to find a new place to balance. I know I'll find a way eventually. In the meantime, though, just promise me that you will laugh at my crazy antics and not judge me for them. I just don't know who I am anymore.

Hello, Horizons, Wanna Expand?

The problem with curly hair is that it requires you to shower in the morning, rather than at night. The problem with showering in the morning is it requires you to get up earlier than you otherwise would. The problem with getting up earlier is it requires you to stop hitting the snooze button. The problem with no longer hitting the snooze button is that you aren't getting any extra 5 minutes. The problem with no extra 5 minutes is that you went to bed at 4 in the morning and every 5 minutes is a vital 5 minutes. So me not getting enough sleep? Basically it's my curly hair's fault.

On a note related to my blog from yesterday, Kara thinks I need to take adventure suggestions from you, dear readers. When I say "adventure suggestions" I mean....well,  pretty much anything... Kara mentioned going back to school for interior design, which I'm strongly considering, and she also mentioned taking up hiking... which I am open to, but slightly hesitant about- I've never been super outdoorsy... and hiking seems heavy. No literally, the backpacks seem heavy. But there are many other risks in this world, and adventures to be had, and mayhaps you can think of a few that you think I should embark on. So go ahead. Tell me what you think I should do. The worst that can happen is I'll say, "No way, hombre." But who knows? Maybe I'll say, "Hello, horizons, wanna expand?"

Tonight I determined that if I ever get a tattoo-- and most likely I never will- but if I do, it will be of a swallow. Black ink, simple silhouette, classic/ pretty, somewhere on my right shoulder blade.

They are classic tattoos, which I like- Giving a nod to the history of the tattoo. They are graceful (which I'm totally not- though I so wish I was!) They represent a safe return home, a hardship survived, loyalty, love  and freedom, depending on who you ask, and those are all ideas that I very much support. :) They can also represent nautical miles logged, but I'll just ignore that one. Plus it just feels right... I've never known what I would get as a tattoo before and then Katie said "bird," and I there it was, in my head, as though it'd just been waiting for me to discover the idea. I think I might be turning into more of an intuitive... Ya think that's possible?

Ok, an hour just went past as I sat here typing and I had no idea.... I should probably go to bed.. I mean, that is, if my hair will let me get any sleep.