Things that change a teenage girl.

Happy Wednesday, folks.

I recently came across a post with photographs of written word tattoos – tattoos that intended to tell a story.

Names and dates – reminders of people loved and lost.

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Replicas of handwritten notes from a child.

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Quotes from books, songs, poetry, speeches.

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As someone who loves tattoos, I know how meaningful they can be.

I have added tattoos to my own body in remembrance and celebration of big life events.  And I have had more than one covered, and more than one removed.

The ones that remain are loving reminders of my life to this point.

A butterfly, originally circa 1997 [thank you, Alison Poncy Mitchell] redesigned in 2008 to signify, wistfully, a metamorphosis in my life.

A heart created from my sons’ initials on the nape of my neck.

A tree of life rooted in Domenick’s initials – on my side [and always beside me].

A series of 5 stars – on my back to remind me of eternal love + sacrifices in my past.

A lotus flower – a beautiful symbol of purification and faithfulness – that carefully cradles my heart.

One tattoo in the post, however, stopped me in my tracks.

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Be kind to yourself – obviously on the forearm of a self-harmer.

I’d recognize those scars anywhere.  They are as familiar to me as my own tattoos.  The only difference between me and this lovely woman is that I chose never to cover my scars.

Self-harm.  Cutting,  Self-mutilation.

Even the words are ugly.  The scars are ugly.  The story behind the scars is ugly.

But her tattoo is divine.

I have grown accustomed to my scars.  I trace them sometimes as a reminder of how bad it once was.  How desperate I felt.  And how far I have come.

My cutting was multi-dimensional, but ultimately, it was a release.

At that time, I couldn’t attain relief through my writing.  I was too young to know how to effectively spill my words onto the page and so I poured myself out in other ways.

My life was filled with self-destructive behaviors.

Things that change a teenage girl.

It took me years to get ahead of it all.

One of the things that initiated my shift was finding and attending a small, women’s college nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia.  It was there that I met Anne, Alison, Alicia, Erin, + Cameron.  It was also there that I found true value in who I was, and who I was becoming.  I thank God for those women, for that school, and for my years there.

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They reset my path.

And now I am a woman.  And I can look at that photo and see myself in her.  And I want to find her, and hug her, and I want her to hold me right back.

As an act of kindness for ourselves.

My Juicy Glad-I-Caught-That: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” Plato

Because although it may have made me unsightly for a moment in time, coming out on the other side of it also made me beautiful.

See you on the flip-side.

In love,

Noelle

xoxox

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