I am already planning my next tattoo. What I have in mind will be larger and more detailed than my first one so finances will be the only deterrent. But oh hell yeah, I’m getting inked again.

The pain really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be; it was more of an annoyance than anything else. There’s a little more I want to add at the bottom but I was so very tired, crashing as soon as I got home last night, so that’ll happen another time.

It’s an odd feeling, knowing that image will always be there on my skin, yet exhilarating at the same time. I have a way with focusing and shifting my pain into pleasure, but a friend was with me, chatting and keeping me company, so I didn’t find I had to go into lalaland much. Except for the clouds, that is. The only times I had to stop talking and find that zone was during the clouds…I asked because I sure as hell wanted to know. But I look and the piece wouldn’t be complete without the damn clouds, no matter how many times my quick yelps slipped out. Totally worth it!

I am getting my first tattoo tomorrow evening. Smack in the middle of my back, an image I finally know must be the first one to grace my skin. For years I’ve wanted a tattoo but I wasn’t sure of what, so I held off, waiting until I knew exactly what and a couple months ago the image was in my head. So, tomorrow a friend is getting a touch-up on one of hers, and right after, I my “virgin” *snort* skin will receive its new markings.

I won’t tell what the tattoo is, but will show a picture once it’s healed. The decision wasn’t made half-assed, and each element of the design has a very intense personal meaning to me. I can’t imagine regretting something so emotional and I am proud of finally going through this process. Part of this is for healing, another as a statement about who I am and what I am not ashamed of.

My friend has informed me the middle of the back is one of the most painful areas to have a tattoo, but I am up for the challenge. With all the physical pain I’ve endured in my life, and while this will be different, I have learned I am able to adapt and flip the switch where pain is transformed into pleasure or at least bearable. I think the most difficult aspect of tomorrow will be surviving without caffeine.

I am sooo itchy!  My hands and forearms itch like crazy the past couple days.  Last night it took forever to relax and get to sleep because I was either scratching (thank goodness for acrylic nails) or trying not to scratch.  Auuuugh!   I didn’t see anything on my skin until this morning so I’m guess it’s just hives.  Possibly from all this anxiety? I dunno, but very unusual…and annoying!  I am going straight home for that anti-histamine creme I have in a drawer somewhere.

I’ve always been a worrier, something I know I picked up from my mother. Yet all these years I’ve never really had any issues with anxiety. I’d get nervous over a pending situation, sometime antsy, but never serious enough to be classified as anxious.

Last week, one night I was beyond anxious; I was afraid, paranoid. I was so jumpy, the ice settling in my glass startled me. There was a moment when I felt I should call the cops as the urgency and thought of someone in my home seemed so real. The only reason I didn’t was because I would then have to leave the safety of my room to answer the door. So, that didn’t happen.

I am used to the mania, the rage, the energy, depression, sadness, hopelessness, the deep pit of nothing, but this was beyond anything else I’d experienced. For years I’ve read of those suffering through panic or anxiety attacks and it was so hard for me to relate, to really understand. Now, I understand, but I wish I didn’t.

My request for coffee with a friend after gym probably seemed minor but I didn’t want to go home. I’m afraid to go home now, not because I’m scared of being alone, but because I’m afraid of how I’ll feel once I’m here. The gradually increasing thoughts that someone else is in the house, downstairs, behind my door, in my room. My tight chest, sudden burst of heat within, unable to breath and I’m dizzy, and eventually crashing onto the bed just sooo tired and exhausted from it all.

The most difficult aspect of this is how I know my fears are based on nothing but an empty house. I know rationally, the thoughts running inside me are wrong, and not possible, but I still react. Why is this happening now? So many years when my stress has been much greater, and yet this panic seems to be taking over. I am not ok with this, and hopefully will get some help soon. It’s one thing to have my mood swings, but this is so unfamiliar it’s freaky.