I spent some time today writing lists. How satisfying to write down all the things you would like to accomplish. The things I must clean. The things I must organize. The things I would like to do for myself. I made sure to check a few off the first two lists today, and as I was cleaning and organizing I listened to an entire audio book, Animal Farm, oddly poetic for the times. I spent the whole day with myself. Then I started looking into the tattoo I’d like to get. Taking screenshots of the fonts I’d like to have. I’m going to get it right on my hand. Amor Fati. Love of One’s Fate. How fitting. The place I’d like to be with myself. The perfect daily reminder, something I’m doing just for me. And I can’t help but think how much my mom would absolutely despise it. She’s always hated tattoos, hated when I got them. I’ve always gotten them in places where I could cover them up so I didn’t have to hear the critiques when she came up to visit. They would be constant. And it wouldn’t just be about that. It would be about my body, my weight, my appearance, my parenting, my partner (if I was even in a relationship she would tend to have an issue with them as well). So now for the first time, at 35, we’ve been no contact for several months, and it feels like I’ve escaped a prison I’ve lived in all my life. I can make all my decisions, I can decide that my job is no longer right for me and I don’t have to get her permission to leave. I can go to the library and pick out whatever books I’d like (yes, there was a point where somehow she was controlling even what I read even though she didn’t live in the same state and if you haven’t experienced this type of mental abuse you may not understand how that could happen). I can get a tattoo on my hand with no consequences, I can do whatever I like literally all of the time.
The most striking thing about the healing process was last year I realized the negative, cruel voice in my head wasn’t even mine. The voice that was beating me up from the inside was my mothers. And the only way I knew how to remove it was to remove her completely from my life.
The Girl Without A Face 