Tattoo

Don't know if it's the weather, the fact that I have nothing that I HAVE to do today, that A. is stabilized on his meds for the moment or what, but today I have that giddy, carefree, joyous thing going on.

This may sound a little strange, but I think it has something to do, too, with tank top season. When my 'quetza in a conch shell' tattoo shows, I feel empowered. Not sure if it's the significance of my sister's design, or I just have this idea that it makes me look like a rebel bad ass. In any case, it usually adds to the feeling-comfortable-in-my-own-skin package.

After a rough week of recovering from A.'s episode, of too many deadlines at work with too many people out, of trying to figure out if a certain school is the best one for A., and then how to pay for it, today I feel light. Hopeful.

I know better than to think that this will last too long. And that's ok. If I have learned anything in past several years, it's that I have today. Nothing more and nothing less. And I will take short-lived bursts of serenity and joy over none at all.

This week, I have chosen faith over fear as much as I could. It sounds cheesy and naive, but there is no other explanation for the inner peace.

I used to think this was weak. Turning all of this over to some sort of higher power. I have always believed I could manage all my life problems on my own. I've learned that it takes tremendous courage and strength to let go. To keep walking, to take the leap, to admit that I do not know everything.

And, that, I think, is where my tattoo comes in. I am not alone. I am not in charge of the outcome. But I gain strength and tap into a power of sorts when I turn it all over to the Wind. To Quetza. Seeing my tattoo, it being exposed reminds me of that.