Merely Musing: 50th Birthday Celebration (Part 2)...

Jumping around, I'd like to note the end of my six day house party celebration. Becky stayed all six days and we had the last two just to ourselves. During that time, we got in the bulk of our "Fringe" watching, since she started the show whilst it was still on Netflix and needed another way to see it now. Of course, just before she came, I found Go90, a free streaming service that has "Fringe" on it. Still, we watched 35 episodes together, several of them with my sister, introducing her to the show.

A short while before my birthday, Becky let me know her big gift for my 50th: matching tattoos! I was so surprised and so ... well ... hungry for such a thing! I love, love, love that we now have matching tattoos. It is an immense blessing for me to now be able to look at my wrist and be reminded of our friendship.

You see, the thing I have in my head the loudest is that I am unloveable, unworthy of friendship or caring or love. And, whilst Becky and I have been friends for nearly 22 years, I cannot remember those years. There is very, very, very little that I can remember and it just plain STINKS. I mean, I want to shout to the universe: THIS IS SO BLOODY UNFAIR! But that will not change the problem of my inability to make memories. [Did I mention that my new therapist thinks she knows why that is?????]

Anyway, so we went through this back and forth with images of tattoos that we could get. I found a REALLY great one for friends, but it is an ankle tattoo and I wanted to be able to see the tattoo (and I don't go around barefoot). The one I was thinking of, did not do much for Becky, though I adored it and had secretly been wanting it for a long while. However, practically at the very last minute (not really but it felt that way surely to my bestest of friends) I threw caution to the wind and sent her an image of a rather beautiful tattoo that is ... uhm ... not small.

It is botanical for me.
It is earthy for her.
It is old-fashioned for both of us.

With a great big GULP, Becky agreed and I set about finding the place to go. It worked out that Becky could hang out on the phone with me when I went to two local shops where I had narrowed our choices. It was rather tempting to me not to go schlepping out to the second one, but it was the best decision I made, I think, with regard to the tattoo (other than the design). There was an artist there who works solely in black and white and who actually likes doing floral work. To look at the big, burly, tattooed dude, you'd never know he has such a floral-loving heart!

The front desk dude showed me his book and I was impressed. But then he showed me the artist's instagram account (I still don't understand instagram) and I knew he was the one for us. I made a consultation appointment and went in the next day.

Shaking like a leaf.
Talking a mile a minute.

As much as Becky was nervous about getting such a ... not small ... tattoo on her wrist, I think that in the end I was rather more nervous than she was. For the first five days she was here, every few hours, I practically shouted at her that she was getting a tattoo. With Me! I was also nervous that my wonky nerves would make the process difficult for me. I did not sleep much on Monday night.

The good news is that the majority of the tattoo was just like getting lightly scratched. In some places, I barely felt what he was doing. However, when he moved to the part I like the best, the bit that trailed down to the side of the hand, it felt like he was slicing my skin. I really, really, really struggled with the tattooing and honestly thought I was going to have to tell him to just forget about finishing it. I had him stop at least twice ... maybe three times in that area. I know one time he moved back to finishing the rest of the tattoo before coming back to that area. I honestly do not know how I got through that pain.

But I did.
And I LOVE my tattoo.

I LOVE that Becky and I have matching tattoos. I LOVE the tattoo we choose. And I LOVE my dear, dear, dear friend. This was an incredible gift to give and one that SHOUTS at me that she loves me, too.

It is a wonder to me—one almost too large to comprehend—to be loved for exactly who I am, struggles and all, without want for change.

I would like to finish by saying that Becky actually started giving me her gifts 50 days before my birthday. For 50 days, she woke me up with a text that was a passage of the Living Word and something that she loved about me and/or about our friendship. I strongly doubted that Becky could come up with five lovable things about em, much less fifty. She had no problem doing so.

And, because she is that kind of friend, Becky took home a blank journal that was a Christmas gift from a Facebook friend because I asked her—once more shaking like a leaf—if she would please write out those 50 gifts so that I would have them to keep always. Becky didn't bat an eyelash at the request (at least in front of me) because she really does love me and understand what having such a book would mean to me.

I wonder ... does she realize how profound a gift it is for me, who struggles with doubt all the time and who does not remember our history together, to have this loveliest of tattoos on my wrist to remind me, daily, that I am loved?