Whispering Wyrd

“Out of the mouth of babes…” That phrase has been on my mind the last couple of days.

During a video call with my oldest son, my daughter-in-law, and my little granddaughter, she suddenly asked, “Why do you have those, Pops?” while pointing at my face. I thought she meant my reading glasses, so I answered, “Because I need them to see.” She shook her head and said, “No, those!”

My son and I thought maybe she meant my beard and mustache, but that wasn’t it either. She was getting frustrated that we didn’t understand. Then she pointed to her own cheekbones beneath her eyes and said, “THOSE!”

That’s when we realized she meant my tattoos. I have tattoos under each eye on my cheekbones. I honestly didn’t know how to answer her. She’d never asked about them before, even in person, much less over a video call. So I just said, “Well, I don’t really have a good answer for you.”

There’s no simple way to explain those tattoos to a little child. Thankfully, my son stepped in and told her, “They’re art.” She understands art, and that satisfied her.

The saying about children speaking honestly and without filters is absolutely true. But her question made me sad. I wasn’t expecting that, and I couldn’t have been prepared for how it made me feel.

She doesn’t know anyone else with facial tattoos, or neck tattoos, or hand and finger tattoos. And thinking back to when I got most of mine brought up memories from a time in my life that wasn’t very healthy or stable.

Not everyone struggling with addiction gets tattoos, of course. But a lot of us do, and in conversations with others in recovery, a lot of those tattoos were done when we weren’t in good places emotionally or spiritually. It made me ask myself something honestly… Do I regret my tattoos?

The truth is, yes, most of them I do regret. Some I don’t regret as much, but others I keep covered, and hope someday to have professionally covered or changed. Like many things from my decades in addiction, they carry memories from darker times. Very dark times. But recovery teaches us something important, we can’t live in regret. We have to keep moving forward.

On the back of my one year recovery coin, it says, “Like a tree, we must learn to shed our past, grow new branches, and reach for the light.”

I carry that coin with me. At least once a day I hold it in my hands and press it to my heart and just hold it there. It comforts me in a way that’s hard to explain. To someone who hasn’t walked this road, it may seem like just a coin. But to me, it represents healing. Healing mentally, physically, and spiritually.

A lot of people in recovery talk about addiction as being a spiritual wound or emptiness, and that healing often requires something deeper than willpower alone. That’s why groups like AA and NA speak about a “higher power.” Each person understands that in their own way, but the idea is that we don’t have to fight addiction alone. That we can’t fight addiction alone.

Still, my granddaughter’s innocent question caught me off guard. I felt ashamed. Not because she meant anything by it, she was just curious, but because those tattoos remind me of who I was back then. Most days I forget they’re even there unless I see my reflection or notice someone reacting to them, looking at me warily.

As I write this, I admit I’m emotional. I admit I am crying as I write this. I never want my granddaughter, or my grandson who will soon arrive, to think their Pops is a bad person. And remembering the place I was in when I got those tattoos brings back very painful memories.

But here is the important part… I am healing. I am moving forward.

Next year, I’ll get a two year coin. And really, it isn’t just the years that matter, it’s every single day! Every day of recovery and healing is worth celebrating. When substances no longer control your life, there is a kind of freedom that feels almost miraculous.

And that is something to be grateful for.

I’m grateful I’m still here so my granddaughter could even ask that question. I’m grateful for my family. And I’m grateful for that little coin I still hold to my heart every day.

And tonight, I’ll hold it there again, in gratitude.

Amituofo
~Buck