Life is a Prayer
Tattoos, Men, and Nashville
CW: Abusive relationship. Little to no details, just mention of body and spirit recovery.
I want to talk about tattoos. I have a lot of them - 37, give or take. I got my first tattoo at 19, a rather large one down my spine, and as a girl who had never felt at home in her body, it felt exhilarating. I got to choose what happened to my body in that moment, and although I am aware of this at 35, I didn’t know it then. All I knew was I felt a little wild without thinking I was pushing the envelope too hard, and I assumed my folks wouldn’t be too mad considering both of my siblings also had one. Of course, my first tattoo is my siblings’ birthdays, sitting atop and below a random Celtic symbol I found on the internet. I hate that thing, but 19-year-old me loved it and was enamored by my paternal line’s Welsh heritage. Someday I’ll get someone to put something nice and funky over it, perhaps something a little more me and a little less google search.
My second was, just like the first, larger than expected and in a gnarly spot - my ribs. I felt really cool and mature when the artist told me that the guy before me cried getting one in the same spot, but I didn’t. That tattoo is the first few lines of “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin, which was and will forever be my very favorite band. Even 15 years later you can still read the lyrics, a testament to that artist, but the 5 feathers above it now look a little like corndogs. Thank God for my enduring sense of humor. Dogs it is.
Then it gets a little hazy as far as which ones came next. I know that the cardinals on my wrist were my fourth tattoo, for my grandfather, and I remember it hurt like hell because I was deeply hungover and dehydrated. Do not do that before a tattoo appointment, I beg of you. What came after? I think possibly the ones behind my ears. In the beginning I only chose spots that were easily concealed because I was still acting full time and I didn’t want to rebrand myself with a bunch of visible tattoos because I still saw myself as something of an ingenue. I wanted to win an Oscar someday, and Oscar winners aren’t typically covered in tattoos. The only feedback I ever received about my appearance were questions about the scar on my right cheek, left from a racecar accident when I was three years old. I used to tell casting directors that it was extra smile for me because it fits perfectly into the folds of my cheeks when I grin. I played the game very hard. I acted my ass off for bit parts in commercials and Christian indie films, ignoring the deeper parts of me that were deeply suffering because I was ignoring intense levels of grief and rage that had been pushed down into no man’s land.
But then I went through a harrowing, intensely emotionally abusive relationship with a fellow actor, and the art lost its fire for me. I couldn’t feel my body anymore, which is an essential tool in acting. I couldn’t connect to myself or others, so I had to set it down and reroute my entire life. I moved to Nashville and began working with addicts as I navigated post-abuse turmoil and confusion and longing and fear. The ritual of receiving tattoos began to call out, so I found myself making bolder and bolder choices with them. Again, it was my psyche reaching out to be seen, to be held, to be celebrated, to be creative. I swung dramatically back and forth those years between devotion to healing and sometimes not really caring what happened to me next and feeling completely helpless. Nashville invited me into so many things that weren’t available to me before, like cultural diversity and profound creativity and hyper independence. I acclimated to the energy of Nashville while going through intense emotional upheaval as well as working a job in which I was required to be a voice of reason for folks worse off than I was. I was drowning but also in complete denial of how overwhelmed I always felt.
Naturally, I became very confused and overwhelmed about where I was supposed to be and what I should be doing, or what I even wanted to do. I had a 5-month stint in Chicago pursuing acting again, but felt deeply unsafe and claustrophobic (surprise, surprise), so I jumped ship back to Nashville. I have absolutely no idea which tattoos happened during these years, if any did. What did happen was a return to emotionally avoidant men and working in the substance abuse industry, followed by yet another breakdown regarding why I was in Nashville, if I could handle the work I was doing, why I can’t seem to stop chasing harmful relationship dynamics, and what I might need in life to feel safe. I went home, again. This was 2017.
2017-2020 were very intense but magical years for me. The end of my 20s brought a wealth of healing invitations, emotionally and spiritually. I worked a handful of odd jobs, starting with being an assistant to a naturopath in a cabin in the deep woods, getting paid under the table. I also directed shows for my former high school and fell in love with guiding and empowering high school-aged kids. Then I was the front office manager for a Dance Company and quickly learned I really did not enjoy working with young children or dance moms. After that I took a job as the assistant manager of the old Starbucks I used to work at, and it was hell on earth. However, while I was feeling trapped and insane in that job, an email for the Psychosynthesis Center dropped into my inbox, seemingly out of thin air. I remember reading the Coaching Certification description while sitting on break in the Starbucks lobby, and I started crying. I recognized something in the language, and something recognized me right back. Thanks to the salary I was making at the time, I was able to enroll, and that choice changed my entire trajectory.
The Psychosynthesis program cracked me open. I saw my heart clearly for the first time, and I was finally able to look compassionately at all of the rage and grief I had been holding for so long, and I began forming a new relationship with those parts, one that was supportive and endlessly insightful. I learned to genuinely forgive myself for the things that didn’t even need forgiving, and I learned to separate myself from the things that have happened to me that I didn’t know I could untether from. I was given the tools and the language to connect with my own spirit, and my spirit took me both out of and into my body. I cut 9 1/2 inches off my hair. I got a beautiful tattoo of my childhood home (Elmridge Dr, I’ll love you forever). I started my own business with practically no business knowledge at all, and the business did very well for a long time. I got a tattoo on my bicep of a woman looking at herself, my reminder that i am the one i am looking for. I got a giant Italian vase on my upper arm in honor of my ancestors.
And then, Nashville started whispering to me AGAIN. She told me that she would help me become a successful business owner and that she wanted to help me heal my relationship wounds. She reminded me that when I step foot in Nashville, a different part of me emerges, one that feels electric and curious. So, again I went, for the 3rd time, even though I was not making nearly enough from my business to have any prayer of being able to pay bills or rent there. My mother, who is usually incredibly fiscal, told me to trust my gut and take a risk. An angel spoke those words through her mouth. I went, my business took off instantly, and I was able to live more than comfortably through my own self-made efforts for two full years. I also dated a string of men who matched my previous relationship rhythms of non-commitment and emotional avoidance, but due to my newfound self-trust I was able to more easily pick up on what felt wrong. Having to go through this process while fighting like hell to break the cycle is what ultimately ended my relationship with my best friend of 20 years, something that still causes me intense sadness on a daily basis. That’s for another time, though. Sometimes during the healing process we have to lose things we never thought we’d say goodbye to.
I broke the cycle with E, we’ll call him. E was a wolf in sheep’s clothing for me. He was successful in his field, very creative, and very sweet. It took me nearly 9 months to realize that our relationship had no depth or true safety and was built solely on physical chemistry and mutual desire to not be alone. I was so deep into my psychospiritual practices and my business that I was well aware of the emotional disconnect, but I wasn’t ready to surrender it in favor of being alone again. I remember we had an argument one day and I said, “Don’t you ever reflect on why you feel the things you do in certain situations or why you avoid them in certain ways?” and he said, “I have no idea what that even is." In that moment, I knew it was over. I think it took us at least another month to officially uncouple, but it wasn’t even due to my bringing this concern to the table - it was because he wanted to move overseas to further his career and he told me he didn’t think it was right for me to be involved because he needed to do it alone. I happily let him go, because everyone deserves the right to pursue healthy autonomy and growth. He ended up in a relationship exactly one month later and I had to find out via an Instagram story. I went berserk. Such is life. I had a total breakdown and vowed to never get into a relationship again unless the person could meet my level of, or at least fully embrace, emotional safety and devotion to self-actualization. I have honored that promise. I have experienced the typical relationship issues in my two significant relationships that have followed that one, but I have not been grossly mistreated again in any way, shape, or form. I feel very proud of that. I feel respected by myself.
Weren’t we discussing tattoos? I find it so fascinating that at the start of my tattoo journey I was much more precise and patient in my choosing, while my choice of partners always happened in an intense whirlwind with no forethought. Now they have flip-flopped — I have very strict and loving boundaries when it comes to men now, but tattoos are a dime a dozen. I love to get them on a whim. I love the adrenaline of it and the endless possibilities to adorn my body with so many different kinds of artistry. Between 2022-2025 I have probably added at least 20 tattoos to my body, and they are largely bird, plant, or spirit-related. I have angels, tulips, geese, a castle, St. Joan of Arc, a leaping rabbit, a man on a horse playing guitar, the phrase JOY VESSEL, a cup, a branch, the 3 of Swords, and The Star. Looking at these symbols and figures is a call to action and love and play for me. They are my reminders that life is wild and unexpected and beautiful and weird.
As I get closer to God, I get closer to myself. I call out to the Divine Mother and she instantly chuckles and wraps my tattooed body in a warm embrace. I will not lie and say I never look in the mirror and wish they were gone. Of course I do! Tattoos are an ongoing conversation with myself and the world, and sometimes the world is not kind to me about them. Sometimes I wish I had a crystal-clear canvas that doesn’t tell my story. But mostly I love that my body reflects the places and things and beliefs that have helped me to become the version of myself that I love so desperately. They are a reflection of all the inner work I’ve done, all the pain I’ve endured, all the hopes I’ve carried, and all the pain I’ve acknowledged and owned with tremendous courage. Sometimes they’re just a reminder that Nashville is the place where I fell in love with tattoo culture, because nearly everyone in East Nashville has a million of them, and the style resonates with something very true and deep within me. It makes me want to yeehaw into the sunset with reckless abandon and a wide-open heart.
I look forward to being an old, tattooed lady who is still dressing and acting like her younger friends. I look forward to digging my hands into the dirt of my well-loved garden while gazing upon the “1958” I recently had tattooed onto my wrist in honor of my mother. I love to see the phrase “Quiet the mind, open the heart” across my thumbs as I eat cereal. Life is a prayer and I am an active worshipper.
I love y’all.
Til next time.