Before the pandemic I was just starting a new tattoo practice almost 8 months out of my apprenticeship. It’s now been longer than that since I’ve tattooed. 😓 It sucks to have made this huge investment I scraped together and busted my ass for years over “for nothing” and maybe it won’t be “in the end” (whatever that is) but for now I’m still heartbroken. Here are some of my floral pieces I got to do in my brief experience. 🌼💘 #tattoo
Let it be known by “scraped together and bust my ass” I mean I had three jobs in addition to my apprenticeship to make ends meet while volunteering heavily and living with a litany of chronic illnesses. I will toot my horn for being able to balance all that altho no one should have to work that fucking hard for anything IMO tbh. I have no idea how I did that but my therapist says it’s being used to extreme and constant trauma that makes me succeed under pressure. 🥳😣 Of course.
And speaking of “extreme and constant trauma”:
One of my favorite things ever (sarcasm) is when people assume that because I’m pretty (which is work) or have cultivated my talents (work) or just managed to even not have died yet (more consistent work) that whatever my trauma consists of “can’t be THAT horrible”. Bitch, “normal” people can’t handle a mere mention of what I’ve survived without even going into the disgusting detail you demand to deem me “worthy” of having trauma. Fuck. That. Ya’ll.
I can’t, for others’ delicate sakes, very comfortably talk about the physical things I’m currently healing either because it’s just too damn gross. So I did some self portraiture musing on polite euphemisms for the latest in gastrointestinal flares. Marked sensitive for my bloody eye. 👁🩸 My eyes are brown. 🤎 #ulcerativecolitis
@whoisrjc I hope the art is cathartic to you! I feel validated with your appreciation. ❤️ I hate that anyone else goes through this bs tho!
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