inked for the 7th time

i now have a fairly substantial back piece covering about a 1/3 of my back.

the 2.5 hour experience was intense, and i still have to go back to get the color filled in. EJ (my tattoo artist) and i conferenced extensively about her proposed designs before she finally set up the needles and the ink.
the tension built in my muscles as i waited for the process to begin. i knew it would not be pleasant. when i lay facedown onto the tattoo bed, i took a few deep breaths to calm/prepare myself for the pain.
EJ smirked, "you ready?"
i groaned and gave her a sad face, "i'm never ready."
she buzzed the ink gun at me a few times, "ok. well, i'm starting."
as the needle began puncturing the skin of my lower back, it was almost a relief. EJ is a perfectionist and a great artist. she pressed the needle in carefully so it wasn't *so* bad for about the first 1/2 hour. however, when she began working on the shading on my side, the pain suddenly spiked.
"oh Mary," EJ paused in her work when a little squeak escaped my throat, "this part is probably really sensitive, isn't it?"
i took a deep breath, "yes. 갑짜기 신각헤졋어." (literal translation: 'it suddenly got serious').
she laughed kindly, "well, i don't want to make things too hard for you. so, now that i've started on this part, i should do this all in one pass... do you think you can handle it?"
i nodded and laughed helplessly, "the way that i see it, i figure that i'll have this ink in my skin for life... feeling this sharp, intense pain seems right to me."
"i agree," she smiled, "ok... get ready..."

the next 45 minutes was excruciating as she pulled burning fishhooks through my skin. internally, i squirmed and screamed. i felt trapped. tortured. i wanted to push her the fuck off of me and run. but i held my breath and grit my teeth.

getting this tattoo was pretty spontaneous, but it wasn't at random. i've recently been feeling quite refreshed and happy in life. i've quit smoking, drinking, and staying out until the early morning hours (for now). i'm sure these factors play a major role in moving me into this good place. i don't feel any compusion to be at this or that party anymore. i just don't feel like i'm missing out. i'm investing in my closer friends, i'm getting involved in fruitful activities, i'm exercising regularly, and i'm eating healthy.
i feel fabulous.

i'm also done with random sexual encounters. not that i've had that many, but 2010 had a string of months where i succumbed to my lusty appetites whenever i was in the mood. all i needed was a decent-looking guy who was confident enough to flirt and proposition me to a casual introduction to his penis.
sure, there was a temporal pleasure i experienced (sometimes) while getting naked and sweaty with him or him or what's-his-name, but i either felt disgusted with myself or some shade of dark the following day. i got stuck in that pattern for several months, despite those dark feelings.

so, as i gritted my teeth against the searing, raking of needle against my skin, i blasted the tribal beats of one of my favorite bands into my ears and reflected on why i was putting myself through this pain...
it is for the pleasure of Life.
for the fact that--even though it took me a while to get here, i am here.
it is for the purpose of permanently marking myself and my commitment to this: the act of trying to be the best of exactly who i am with my bizarre brains. this is what God intended, sometime before the dinosaurs were duking it out.

He's always wanted ME to break free. to fully be who i am. He's always been drawing me out, sometimes whispering, sometimes yelling--agape love and unconditional acceptance.

i've always heard these messages, but never received them--throughout my sheltered youth, my sometimes troubled drugged/drunken adolescence and adulthood, my angsty married years, and the past two years in my post-divorce playground.
this history--my history, may describe me, but it doesn't define me. i sometimes get so wrapped up in my failures and Flaws that i forget that i am inherently valuable. to Someone.
SO, here's the ridiculously obvious conclusion: i don't need to be anything or anybody. i can simply be Myself. somehow, that is good enough. and *that* is lovely.

thus, the form of my 7th tattoo:
i chose the main subject to be flora, because it is living and organic. towards the base of the piece (which, ironically is the highest point of the tatt) is the symbol for love. along the branches are the symbols for joy and peace among cherry blossoms.
to be honest, the cherry blossoms weren't exactly *my* idea, but EJ really thought they would look good in the design, so i consented. afterall, i figured that getting a tattoo is a dynamic, artistic process for both artist and canvas.

why love, joy, and peace?
a few weeks ago, i asked a guy i just met: "what do you want to be when you grow up?" he expounded upon his future plans at some length. his ideas were somewhat specific and elaborated. what struck me was that he was able to name things; he seemed pretty clear about what direction he would *like* for his path to take.

though he never reflected the question back to me, i still thought about how i am very unsure about what the future will bring. moreover, i do not have any concrete idea about what i would like it to bring.

but, i still know what i want to be when i grow up.

i want to be someone who really loves people. i want my life and my actions to be reflective of Love. i also want to be a person who regularly experiences joy and peace. those kinds that are Real. those secret kinds that are not reliant upon purpose or possessions or circumstance.

these are the pretensions that got me through the waves of panic that hit me while EJ pressed that blazing, inky needle to my side.