tattoo #2.

My second ever tattoo is now stamped on me forever (thank you, Clover! @tattoosbyclover). It’s of a phone booth with a cape inside; the cape should be red, but I’m afraid of red ink. While I don’t think every tattoo needs to carry deep meaning, my first two do.

My second tattoo is shaped perfectly to sit next to my first, which was designed with piecing together chosen family in mind. My second tattoo is inspired by the following lyrics of Andrea Gibson’s poem, The Nutritionist:

“You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy. I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside
Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside some days…”

—

The last time I saw Andrea Gibson perform live at Thalia Hall in Chicago, I felt just about every emotion known to man in that short two(ish) hour performance. How is it possible for each word they say to hit my heart so hard? I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I see a lot of me in them: The way they embrace awkward before any one else realizes how charming awkward can be. The way they captivate the crowd with compassion, reading their poems through an empathetic lens. The way they draw in the queerest, most beautiful crowd. The way they center simple, gentle kindness.

I’ve been feeling really good about life in general lately. To the point that I’ve begun to question whether the good is too good to be true. But I will say, it took me nearly four years to feel like I fully bounced back. While I want to relish in this high for as long as possible, I can’t ignore or forget (even though I wish I could) the time when I was at such a low point that even going outside or getting off the couch felt like a chore.

When I was spending my quarantine at Galter, I would count down the minutes until I was able to use the phone. I had a notebook with my friends’ numbers written down, and I would call them from a swanky little phone booth that in retrospect, pretty closely resembles the one in my tattoo. I wasn’t actually thinking about my phone calls at Galter until after the tattoo was already on, though.

While I could hone in on the Clark Kent changing into Superman in a phone booth analogy, I think there’s more to it than that. The phone booth tattoo, for me, is a reminder that resilience, in combination with a debilitating diagnosis, is my superpower; I choose to view it that way at least, otherwise I’d be hurting a lot more. I really believe, we can break out of our hardest times somehow. And well, sometimes it takes phoning a friend to help you get there.

The closest people in my life now can attest how hard it is to actually get me to sit still these days. It’s like I’m making up for lost time by flooding my time to spend with people I love at any opportunity I get.

My second ever tattoo is now stamped on me forever. And for my third, I’m thinking of getting a stamp (literally), because I’m actually excited to send and advocate for more snail mail in this new year.

Let me know your thoughts and feelings, fam <3.