With this ever-changing blog o’ mine, I’ve been feeling that some of my more recent posts have been somewhat lacking in a personal nature. As the blog has morphed into a platform for my coaching business, I’ve felt the need to make sure all of my posts were helpful or instructional in some way. Not that all of my posts need to be personal (hello, TMI 🙂 ), but honestly, I truly enjoy sharing what I’m going through in the hopes that many of you can relate. That’s what got me started writing way back when over on my anonymous therapy blog and those are the posts I generally love writing the most. So I’ve decided that occasionally, when I feel the urge, I’m going to give you guys a little window into what’s going on in this head and heart of mine, with no real intent other than simply to share. Hope that’s cool. Enjoy. <3

So, a couple weeks ago I was a little bit of a mess.

I was out on a date with one of my guy friends. Ok, so it wasn’t a date exactly, but not entirely not a date. (Please tell me you’ve been there too.)

Anyway, the stage had been set. Boundaries were pretty clear. We’d had the talk and determined we would be friends and ‘see where it goes’ — sort of test driving with the option to lease, or something of that nature. So naturally, over a glass of sparkling sangria, we decided on a whim to go see a concert together in a neighboring state.

Yeah, you heard me correctly.

Let me just throw something out there. I’m kind of a ‘need to know exactly how things are gonna go down’ kind of person. So, needless to say, this was a giant leap outside my comfort zone. Having formerly decided I was totally ok with our ‘friends with the option’ status, I found myself in full-on panic mode as the weekend of the concert approached. I started second guessing everything. My head began spinning with all the usual thoughts — things like, “Um, I really shouldn’t be doing this, should I? This isn’t totally defined… and WHAT DOES IT MEAN EXACTLY?” It’s highly possible that I was way overthinking it.

Somewhere in the wake of all that chaos and uncertainty, I decided to get a new tattoo. (Did I not tell you about that?) I had a consult with a tattoo artist named Jenn, then I spent a good week texting her back and forth about the design, nit-picking it to pieces. I’m pretty sure she thought I was totally nuts. Finally, I decided to bite the bullet and just go for it. (Because, you know, when in doubt…) As I settled into the chair, my wrist prepped with alcohol and tiny beads of nervous sweat, Jenn good-naturedly joked about my first-time tattoo jitters. (Um, I’m not a first-timer. I got another tattoo like fifteen years ago, thankyouverymuch.) I gripped onto my sister-in-law’s hand (she had kindly agreed to go with me and witness my nonsense), closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Then before I knew it, it was over and my wrist was not-so-daintily wrapped in what could only be described as a tiny trash bag. Welp, ok then.

I can honestly say I spent the first 48 hours straight up obsessing over the tattoo (my SIL can attest). Was the placement right? How do we feel about the shading? OMG. It’s way too big isn’t it?? And, of course, how much does tattoo removal cost exactly?

Then, after a couple days of stressing, something just clicked. I had a sudden realization that it was a done deal and it was going to be what it was going to be, for better or for worse. I had taken the leap to get a new tattoo without knowing exactly how things were going to look and I had survived. And, as it turned out, I was actually starting to love it.

As I began to embrace my freshly inked, albeit slightly puffy wrist I was pleased to discover I had a whole new attitude. (Or, ‘tattitude,’ if you will. It’s a term. Look it up on Wikipedia.) My worrying and second guessing fell away and all at once I felt so sure of myself. I felt incredibly free. And kind of bad ass. (Excuse the language, but it’s true.)

I was free falling in the best possible way. I felt connected to my true inner self and that source of power that lives within me. I had a deep sense that it didn’t really matter what decision I had made. Everything would be ok in the end. My confidence was on fire. And, best of all, I felt more like myself than I had in a really long time.

Was it the tattoo? I’ll never know for sure, but all I can tell you is I’m liking this color on me. (The tattoo is actually black, but I’m speaking figuratively now. You following?) I love looking down at it and feeling that rush of freedom that comes from taking a chance and being totally ok with the outcome, however it may look. I also love that it serves as a daily visual reminder of my bad assed-ness, er, confidence. 😉

The concert ended up going well too, in case you were wondering. And I stopped obsessing over everything. For now. But, more on that later perhaps.

xoxo

K