As I reflect back, these months were the same. I felt as though I was dealing with everything but really I was not. In a lot of ways, it was a good time. I had a lot of friends, I always had someone with me, I had work, school, a house, a new car and much more. The only problem with this as I look back was that it was all fillers. I was making good money so I could buy what I want, I had friends so I didn't have to talk about anything serious, which I am sure it happened here and there and maybe more than I thought, and I was "dealing with it". Around this time, I also started exercising ...good....and I decided it was time for a tattoo. I put it up on facebook and was recommended a guy to get it done at for cheap. GREAT! I thought. SO with my friends in tow I set up the appointment, chose what I wanted, and was ready to get it done. :) The night of my appointment, I was nervous, I took a percocet to calm my nerves and reduce the pain and traveled down to the tattoo shop. When I got there the artist, was all disheveled, not ready and there was a baby in the shop. A little skeptical, I thought screw it, Live for now. It took him two hours to prepare etc. His first words to me "I am the most professional artist you will ever meet," followed up by " I think I can see your boob"
Now, normally this is when my rational mind would check in and I would check out. Hell effin no see ya later loser. But I didn't He started the tattoo around 10pm. I SAT there hunched over a chair, with him breathing down my neck, and his jelly wife and baby in the back. GROSS. 11, 12, 1, 2, 3 am. By now, I was done. It took him 5 hours, to basically do an outline. Its not like this thing is ginormous, but it was big. It was my first tattoo so okay. By 4 am, the shock had set in and I started to cry and whimper. I just thought "think about all the pain your mom went through, this is nothing" by 4 am, I told the guy he had to stop. He wanted to go on but I was done. My friend had left her car with me so I could drive home. I told him that I would be back to finish, got in her car, and drove home. I never went back, and I also scheduled an appointment to now get tested for needle related diseases. My rational mind was back "what the HELL was that?!"
Two hours later I had to wake up and go to work. I had to wash my back, and go. I loved it but it wasn't that great. I scarred really bad, but I didn't care. I took me almost three years to finally go back and get the courage to get it fixed. Its still not done.
My rationale mind I think had started to jump on a crazy bus. A storm was brewing. I was on a self destructive rut and October was a turning point. When we would go out, it was fun fun fun, until boom a brick wall was crashed into and I was splat all over the wall. Who wouldn't call every single person in their phone book at 2 in the morning? I would. My temper tantrums started. The screaming, the crying etc etc. People were still around though, so my behavior obviously was understood by everyone right?...not so much. I would soon learn that people were quickly, getting over my shit and loosing patience
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