Love without pain??? But... it still hurts....

Irving Stone once said, there is no love without pain. But, Mr. Stone, Sir... it still hurts as ass!

This came to mind while I tried effortlessly to fade out the buzzing of the 4 lined sharp needles repeatedly piercing my skin. I told myself during this self inflicted hurt, "why the ass are you here Singh?".

The sounds of Eddie Griffin stand up comedy was breaking my mental mantra.... "I wanted this tattoo.. I wanted this tattoo!" I giggled now and then, only after realizing,  if I laughed the needle pierced deeper and therefore bleed more than usual. So Eddie, I love you, you are a funny man but self preservation kicked in and survival mode was switched on, outside for you Eddie, no bleeding for the I.

During the, again reiterating "self-inflicted" ordeal, I realized the mind is an amazing thing, each needle that punctured my skin, breaking the surface, brought various sensations throughout the body to the surface of my mind. At some point the agony felt marvelous and I relished in the buzz of the machine, which I once cringed at the sound.  Pain became beautiful, the thin line people talk about between love and hate was this said experience.... The shading of the tattoo, the pain felt, became so pleasurable, so peaceful, so addictive. I leaned back relaxed on the chair, sometimes doozing into a coma like state.

My thoughts meandered through the ongoing flowing rivers of my past, my friends, my experiences, my emotions, my loves, my hates, my mortal enemies.... hmmm.... my mortal enemies...... grrrrr..... It then circled to why I was sitting in this chair. Because I wanted this piece of art with me for the rest of my life, marking my successes, jerking my straying thoughts back to the straight and narrow as to keeping my chin up and not letting my crown slip off my head for any wars waged against me.

The tattoo meant more to me than just ink, or just a kid rebelling against the world of the "normal". 

This time around, the pain caused love.... the pain reminded me of who I am, what I have been through, love/hate relationships, broken trust, broken spirits, a struggle with cancer for 11 years where I tried to fit in and be normal. Holding these bricks on my shoulders, bleeding from my very soul or what was left of it.

But why be normal? For whom? For what? The pain caused me to love myself, more than just skin deep, but in a way that my demons don't scare me anymore. Silence is welcomed than shunned. My soul healed, my heart uncaged, an exhale of pure release.

So....... after all that jazz.... how do we put this now Mr. Stone? " There is no love without pain." or can we say also, " With self inflicted pain comes real love..."

N.B. Whatever I smoked this morning is probably some pretty good sh*t.... JK Police... JK....

Singh over and out.
Food for thought!
xoxo