Today (Tuesday 20th March) I seriously conquered the shit out of my anxiety. I pushed through even though every ounce of me told me to run, to cancel, stop before you break yourself. But I kept going despite the panic that was over taking me.
I was physically shaking.
This is something I’ve wanted to do for years. My determination won.
Today I got my first tattoo.
Bluebells. Why the bluebells?
If you’ve read my post about why I hate December than you already know that ten years ago I lost my nan to cancer a week before Christmas.
What does this have to do with that flower?
My youngest memory with my nan is this:
We’re walking through a woodland, not sure where, a blanket of bluebells covers the ground. The spring air is chilly, I must be about five years old. I’m carrying a wicker basket and nan is picking bluebells.
A few years ago I found the photograph, my uncle always had a camera on him. On the back of the picture is my nans writing; Singledge lane wood ’98.
I don’t know why I remember that moment so well. But ever since I found that picture I’ve wanted to carry that memory with me always. I will never forget this. The essence of my nan is here with me and her memory will age with me.