Girl40's Blog

Treasure,

I am writing to you because I was overwhelmed thinking about you this morning.  You are my neice, you are the daughter of a woman I just met and spent an hour hearing your story from in the grocery store the other day, you are the girl that I have taught and whose story I never heard, but suspected when I looked in your sad, vacant eyes.  You are the young girl who is so desperate you ran away from what you where susposed to be able to call home, a place of safety, but it never was.  You are the young woman who is untrusting, suspcious of those who wish to be close to you, and has trouble staying in a relationship.

I can’t tell you I understand how you feel.  I can’t tell you it will be alright.  But I want to, Treasure.  I want to make it alright for you.  I do know something, you will have to find the strength within you to choose to go on.  No one, no matter how well trained or intentioned can fix you for you.  You have to be a fighter, Treasure.  You have been robbed of your innocence.  Your trust has been stolen, your body has been bruised, your heart scarred, your insides ripped out.  Fight today, not for those who you know you are hurting as you see them hurt by your pain, but fight for yourself today. 

I will find I have become the most dazzling precious treasure, I am treasured over all the earth.  Just look at what he has done for me-

Flyleaf from the song “Treasure”

You are loved beyond measure, your value is more than silver or gold.  The one who created you can take all that is broken and piece by piece restore you.

I will write again soon.

Statistics say that one in four girls will be sexually abused before they reach 18-

31% percent of the women currently  in  US prisons were sexually abused as children-

30% percent of those who were abused become abusers-

60% of those in drug treatment centers report being abused as children.

Don’t turn an ear or an eye on abuse, report it.  Protect our Treasures.

Girl40

A little over a week ago I got my first and most likely only, tattoo.  It is something I have wanted to do for a long time now and I suspect that if I had done it last year when I was 39 instead of now at 40 people would not have asked what I have been asked now, “Is it a symptom that you are having a mid-life crisis?”  Uh, no.  It is a symptom and really more a result of finally knowing who I am and what I want out of life.  I realize that is a lot to put on one little spot of ink, but let me explain.  Years ago I wouldn’t have thought about putting ink permanently on my body let alone of being caught dead in a tattoo shop.  I would have been stuck on what people might think of me or assume about me.  In truth, it would probably have been the same misconceptions I had about tattoos and people who sported them.

Two years back, I woke up in the morning after spending  half the night packing six suitcases for our family to take on vacation to find the diamond in the middle of my wedding ring missing.  Prongs empty, no diamond in sight.  We had no time to unpack all of the suitcases to locate it since we had a plane to catch.  I never did find the missing stone and I never put the ring back on my finger.  Diamonds weren’t at the top of the “need to get” list, so I made do with cheap rings that I would replace as soon as they started to turn my finger green.  Cleaning out horse stalls, vaccinating pigs, and working with young child [all in the same day sometimes] can be hard on rings so I gave up wearing them.  At some point, I started playing with the idea of a “permanent ring” in the form of a tattoo on my ring finger.  I came up with a design that went from my middle knuckle to my last knuckle on my left ring finger.  I designed it with everything that is important to me that symbolizes my marriage and family.  The top has a heart with a cross in it, symbolizing that Christ is the center of our marriage.  Below that, I have both of our initials, and flowing out from that, three lines representing our three children. 

A new friend of mine had been wanting to get another tattoo [she has two] and when I told her about my ring idea, she decided to get one on her ring finger as well.  We did our research on the best place to go in our area, decided on a date, and walked into the shop.  I am sure everyone there wondered what two middle age moms were doing in there and to be truthful, for a moment so did I.  We met and showed our designs to “Spyder” our tattoo artist and I took the chair first.  It hurt, but not bad.  There was something freeing about the loud driving music playing, the pain, and doing something  that people wouldn’t expect me to do.  Is that weird?

Spyder did a wonderful job, copied my design to the tee.  He apologized for the music playing at one point when the “language” got a little heavy, told us about his son, his life, and gave us hugs on our way out.  My friend and I celebrated by stopping on the way home for a beer.

My husband was touched that I would put something so meaningful to our relationship permanently on my body, the kids think I am cool, and most of all I couldn’t be happier with my decision.  As a bonus, I am having conversations that I never would have had like the young man pumping my gas at the gas station who asked me what my tattoo ment and then showed me three of his.

I think I will answer “yes” next time I am asked if the tattoo was a result of a mid-life crisis.  The definition of the word crisis is, “a crucial or decisive point or situation, a turning point.”   This decision was a turning point in knowing who I am and the confidence at forty to be that person.

Lovin the ink,

Girl40