Romancing Yourself

[An] important part of recovery is to continue to romance yourself! 

At the end of the day you are the one who knows your heart best 

and you can’t wait on others to fill it. 

               -"TNG"

Sometimes you think that you're the only person in the world with troubles that no one understands, but in truth, everyone goes through some rough patches. Every person walks along different paths, yet the trails always seem to parallel. As you share your stories, you find similarities. You learn from and/or perhaps even influence the other to find healthy ways to heal.

A friend of mine had gone through a similar ordeal with her ex, though I would imagine the loss was much greater and more painful as she had married this individual. I can't imagine going through a dissolution of marriage; ending a long-term relationship is tough enough. As I learned more about this individual either straight from her or others that know him, it is quite apparent the man is a psychopath with little to no regard for other people's feelings. I once thought Dem was, too, based on his dismissive attitude of my feelings, but Dem's problem has more to do with alcohol influencing his bad behavior and poor choices. He can change if he wants to. My friend literally shared her life with a psychologically sick, sick person, and there's no curing a psychopath. However, she has refused to let herself crawl in a corner and hide from the world. She's held her head high and is moving forward. I'm quite sure she's not without personal, emotional turmoil as she, too, often references the need for healing.

Today she shared her blog entry with me, and the quote above struck me most. Romance yourself. I think, as women, we often forget to take care of ourselves. We are so focused on taking care of everyone around us that we often neglect our own needs. We need to be selfish sometimes. We must tell ourselves that we are important, too. But not just saying it; acting on it. That's what my friend does. She throws herself to the wind and lands in the most adventurous places.

Lately, I've considered all the pleasures I enjoy. I love to go out swing dancing. Hiking along various scenic trails brightens my day. I often take in an old film at many of the local historic theatres. I spend most Sundays vintage shopping and antique hunting. I consider my friend's out-of-town ventures, and I think, why not leave town for a weekend and continue my hobbies at a different locale? I've decided that one getaway each month is doable.

My first getaway was a trip to Sacramento last weekend. They had their weekly Midtown Stomp (swing dancing) and the monthly antique faire. It wasn't much of a weekend since I had few dances and I didn't find any antique goods worth buying, but it was a start. I could've done more, but I didn't research well enough to explore other attractions in a short period of time. 

When I returned to San Francisco I immediately began researching more vintage/antique faires. Some places will have monthly, quarterly or biennial faires, so I've decided to create getaways around these events. Much of my "to do" list will definitely consist of patronizing vintage/antique faires but also: hiking local trails, finding a swing dance venue, watching a film at historic theatres, visiting museums. It's an opportunity to do the things that I enjoy; immerse myself in activities I love; remind myself that I am important to me.

March's destination is already set: Santa Cruz for their next vintage faire and some local attractions. And most importantly, time spent romancing myself.

Ink Therapy

When I was little, I used to stare at my dad's tattooed arm, trace my finger along the lines and ask endless questions. Sometimes I tried to rub off the ink, but my dad said that the only way it would come off is if the ink was burned off. I didn't understand the concept of inked skin or even the rationale for it, but all I knew was that I loved gazing at these paintings on a human canvas. I have always been fascinated with tattoos since childhood, and it stems from the fact that had it not been for a tattoo, I wouldn't be alive today. 

My dad was 19 when he got his first tattoo. He went down to The Pike at Long Beach with his brother-in-law.  He chose a rose with a scroll and asked to have his last name inscribed in it. Fast forward 2 years later at Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. My dad was at the mess hall retrieving his meal when he saw a tiny Woman Marine (WM) looking at his arm. She pointed at his tattoo and said, "that's my last name!" Long story short: they dated, they married, they live happily ever after; the WM is my mom. I once asked her if she would've noticed him had he not had that tattoo. She said, "No. All I saw was some guy with my last name tattooed on his arm." So naturally I would be drawn to tattoos; it was my destiny. At least that's how I rationalize my own tattoos to my mom.

I have quite a few tattoos myself. I was a bit of a late bloomer when I started getting tattooed; my first one at 24. My cousin and I walked in to a San Francisco tattoo shop on Divisadero. She was there for moral support since she already had hers a few years earlier, and her only regret was going alone and picking a crappy artist. I opted for some cherries with flames on my mid/lower back; nothing special and definitely without much creative thought, but at least the work was done well.

There is just something euphoric about the tattoo process. It all starts with an idea and continues into a collaborative effort between artist and canvas. When I walk into the studio, I just stand and take in the atmosphere. The flash covered walls, the smell of sterile air and cleaning products, the melodic buzzing of the tattoo instruments and, of course, the camaraderie. I get such a rush when I sit at the chair and watch my artist get ready to sling ink to skin. Since I have an incredibly high tolerance to pain, I'm rarely uncomfortable. Sure there are spots that make you go, "oooh!" but for the most part, I find it quite soothing. When it's over, I can't help but stare admirably at my work of art.

The most common questions I get about my artwork is "what does it mean?" or "why did you get that?" The truth is, there are various reasons for getting them. My first one was just because I wanted the experience of getting one, but as I've aged, my tattoos have become more personal; some with deep symbolic meaning and some a reflection of who I am or what I love. I like to think of tattoos as illustrated representations of a person's life. The tattoos below are the ones I cherish most.


The Knock Out

Ms. Knock Out was my 36th birthday gift to myself. She was also the first new tattoo I got in four years. Prior to that, I spent most tattoo sessions touching up or reworking older tattoos. When I found the artwork, I knew I had to have it. She is a likeness of one of my favorite actresses (Clara Bow) as well as a good representation of the constant battles I've fought in recent years. I've taken some hits, but I'm a tough gal, and I manage to overcome the myriad obstacles along my life's journey.


Robert DeNiro

My most recent work (as of February 2013) is that of my all-time favorite actor. Before I decided on this piece, I considered all the people images I currently have. They're all women: Bettie Page, Clara Bow, Ms. Knock Out, and 2 pin-up faces. After I finished Clara, I decided that my next piece would be a man. But not just any man. I wanted an Edwardian gentleman in the likeness of Robert DeNiro. My tattoo artist felt the Vito Corleone character best fit that era, so I went for it. What he represents for me is the perfect man. He's handsome, dark and mysterious. He's a gentleman yet tough when he needs to be.


La Llorona

When I was a little girl, my dad used to tell me the story of La Llorona; the weeping woman in search of her children she murdered. (Hispanic parents don't really believe in the fairy tale, happily ever after bed time stories.) However, It was less a horror story and more of a cautionary tale for women; be cautious of men who make false declarations of love. La Llorona is also a ballad; one that I enjoy singing. My favorite lyric: No dejaré de quererte aunque la vida me cueste. I've listened to and sung this song for years. I never realized how much it mirrors the feelings I have now; quite prophetic.


Casados Muertos

The famous Vegas tattoo. Over the past several years, my Easters were spent at Viva Las Vegas. In 2006, I received a random email from a tattoo artist. He liked my style, my skin and my tattoos. He asked to tattoo me at the next VLV show. Why not? My friend and I (because I wasn't about to go alone) met with him at this super seedy hotel on the old strip...at midnight. We met him at his hotel room where everything was completely legit. He had his traveling tattoo equipment, new needles and a saran wrapped chair. It was definitely a good time shooting the breeze and slinging the ink. One of my best Vegas memories. I always enjoy telling the story about the tattoo more than sharing its meaning. Besides it's pretty self explanatory. El Amor Eterno.

La Maestra

 

I am currently an English instructor at a local college, but I used to be a high school teacher. In 2005, I decided to have Ms. Page tattooed as a teacher to represent my profession and my admiration for her. People often commented that I must be pretty vain to have myself tattooed on my arm, and I feverishly explained that it was Bettie Page. I decided to grow out my bangs to lessen my likeness to her. I've since become a redhead and now I get more comparisons to Rita Hayworth.

The tattoos above are just a few of the many others I have on my body. I also have red roses, sugar skulls, pin-ups, swallows, cherries and hellcats but they're more for my affection of American Traditional art than any deep meaning. The next few sessions will focus more on smaller images and filler art to connect the larger pieces.

I do have another planned project: An American Traditional tattoo of Saint Catherine of Alexandria - the patron saint of women, scholars and educators. She will be depicted in prayer and framed within the breaking wheel. I just need to consider placement. Stay tuned; there is definitely a story and a parallel of our lives; coming some time in late 2013 or early 2014.

Faith restored

I've had my doubts about whether or not to trust the court system because it seems people are granted requests for the most absurd reasons, but after today's events, I now have an increased faith that the justice system can make the right decision.

As written in a previous post, I had received (completely out of the blue) a harassing (borderline stalking) email from an individual with whom I've never had contact; be it personally, virtually, 3rd person, etc. In other words, she was a nobody to me just as I was a nobody to her. At least I should have remained a nobody to her after a bizarre chance encounter over two months ago.

As I reflect on this whole situation, all I can do is laugh, shake my head and say, "all because I bought a bottle of shampoo." This whole thing started because I just wanted high quality hair products since I'm obsessed with my hair. Had she not realized that none of this would've happened had she not sent her harassing email to begin with? I never had contact with or from her before giving her my information for the company's records. Of course I'm going to file a complaint with her employer. But I wasn't going to obsess about it. After reporting it, I went on with my life, but she just couldn't let it go, and it had been a nightmare since.

This girl pretty much demonstrated in open court that she has been obsessed with attacking me any way that she can. I originally thought it was Dem who put her up to this but judging from his demeanor, he obviously did not want to be there. And I will publicly make my apology to him here: I now realize that you weren't behind this ridiculous situation. I was wrong in my assumption that you put her up to this just to get back at me. But that certainly doesn't excuse your abusive behavior during our relationship and in the months immediately following the break-up.

During this hearing, she dragged out information that was never in the original report, and it caught me completely by surprise. The problem was, she had no proof available to back up her claims. They weren't available because they don't exist. I came prepared with my witness and evidence, but they weren't needed. The burden of proof was on her, and she had nothing.

Bottom line, she didn't like the fact that I have a blog. She didn't like the fact that I have written about my experience with an abusive alcoholic. She didn't like the fact that people who have nothing to do with her could be reading about my living with post traumatic stress disorder. She didn't like the fact that I refused to be bullied nor back down from defending myself. Contrary to her delusional belief, this blog does not revolve around her. I write about what I feel in one moment, and I move forward and on to the next thought that encompasses my mind. My life does not revolve around her. I have better things to do. I dance, I hike, I garden, I teach, I go to graduate school, I go antique/vintage hunting, I attend classic film festivals. Add one more thing to my already busy schedule: I'm now a 1930s chorus girl. (I'm finally part of a dance troupe. Yay me!)

I am completely thankful that the judge saw through her. She demonstrated her lack of maturity and made a complete fool of herself, and that was quite apparent with all the laughing I heard from everyone else in the court room. Even my witness and I were withholding bursts of laughter because that was how ridiculous and immature the claims were. And as we were dismissed, I couldn't help quietly laughing and shaking my head as I whispered a parting shot under my breath before sitting tall and taking great satisfaction in watching her angrily leave in her agony of defeat. Let this be a learning experience for her. Hopefully she will now leave me alone because I want nothing to do with her; never had, never will. 

As per the parting shot, it was not meant as a dig at her. It was meant for Dem (and I know he heard me) for allowing himself to get involved with a kid. For allowing himself to take a huge leap backward. For allowing himself to reach way down to scrape the bottom of the barrel; a 40 year old man with a 20-something kid. Dating a woman-child does not make a man look younger. It makes him look older, desperate, and pathetic. And he looked hella old and haggard

Before I end this, there's just one thing I want him to ponder. When we first started dating, he had asked me if I would be strong enough to stand by him should his baby-mama ever bring him to family court. Considering this is the second unsuccessful attempt at using the court system to unjustly punish me, I can say with 100% certainty that yes, I would have been strong enough to handle it, and I will continue to maintain strength. There was never anything to fear but he allowed himself to be influenced by what other people (people who don't know me) posted about me online. Perhaps he should take a better look at what's online and what she posted about her own self. Better yet, he should take a long look in the mirror; only then will he have a legitimate reason to be scared.

*TAKES A MUCH NEEDED DEEP BREATH* Thank You, God, for blessing me with supportive family and friends. And thank You for restoring my faith in justice.

This post brought to you by our favourite band.

You think you've got a hold of it all
You haven't got a hold at all
When you reach the top, get ready to drop
Prepare yourself for the fall, you're gonna fall
It's almost predictable 

           - Depeche Mode

Demian Griffitts