Making peace with the past, and its scars

In the process of writing last week’s post about transformation I started thinking about my phoenix tattoo, which got me thinking about regret and acceptance.

The phoenix is, of course, a potent symbol of transformation. It’s the mythical bird that rises from the ashes after adversity. The caterpillar emerging from its cocoon into a beautiful butterfly. You get the idea. 
I was certainly making a statement when I chose to get a phoenix tattooed on my upper back at the age of 22. I was also ahead of my time, as Ben Affleck has just done the very same (although his is more colourful and impressive).

To give you some background, at the time I got inked, I had come through the other side of a battle with depression and a redundancy. I wanted to carry a mark that would symbolise my resilience and inner strength. I hoped it would give me something to draw on in challenging times. I believed, in the naïve way that only a 22-year-old could, that I was through my biggest personal crisis. I did not then understand that life is a series of challenges and strength building, and that we are reborn again and again and again (unless, of course, we choose to stay stuck).

Instead of being a badge of honour, the tattoo became a source of regret. It didn’t remind me of my transformation, it only reminded me of the misery that had permeated that chapter of my life. I felt disappointed that I had not grown enough to become the person I had believed I could be on day in a dingy Auckland tattoo studio. Plus, it was kinda ugly. 

So, in my early 30s I decided to have it removed. Unfortunately the laser treatment process was excruciating (vastly more painful that the tattooing process), and was predicted to become more so as treatment progressed. It was also costly. So after five treatments I decided to make peace with the now slightly faded bird, and quit treatment. 

My tattoo removal story in Women's Health magazine

I totally understand how people who have tattoos of their ex’s name on their forearms, or Kermit the Frog tattoos on their butt (I actually know someone in this situation), would want to have those removed. But my tattoo wasn’t that awful. So why had I wanted it erased so badly?

What I’d been trying to do was the equivalent of what people do on Instagram every day – edit out the ugly side and present only the elements of myself that I wanted to be seen. I knew that getting rid of the tattoo would not alter the course of my history, but at least it would mean I wouldn’t have to keep reflecting on it – because every time someone saw the tattoo I had had to explain (in the vaguest of terms) that I had been through “a rough period”. In doing so I was invoking the heavy energy around that period once again. I felt a whiff of the despair and, just like a dementor in Harry Potter, its darkness loomed large. I didn’t want to be dragged down by that chapter any longer. I wanted to put that behind me once and for all. 

So very idealistic.

The past is ugly. It has shadows and it leaves scars. It cannot be erased – even with the heat of a laser. The challenge for me has been in finding a middle ground between acceptance and regret. More than a tattoo could, it was in writing about my battle with depression that I finally made peace with the parts of myself from which I had bled so profusely (read that post here). I now neither embrace nor recoil from reminders of my past struggles. I have taken the lessons and am doing my best to gently move on. I have regrets, but I no longer ruminate on them.

We are all better off for what we’ve been through, good and bad. That’s the unsightly truth.

We have insurance for fire and theft, but how do we insure against emotional crises?

I am insured for all sorts of disastrous events that are highly unlikely to happen – touch wood! – but no one is offering me insurance against the sorts of things that are actually likely to derail me throughout my life. There’s a good reason for that – any company offering insurance against heartbreak, friendship breakdowns, career crises and cripplingly low mood would go bankrupt. But as I went through the process of assessing my insurance arrangements recently, I started thinking about whether I’m doing enough to insure myself against the highly damaging events that we’re all subject to, at one point or another. A sort of emotional insurance, I guess. Obviously nothing can prevent tough times, but there are lots of ways we can minimise the damage, and bounce back more quickly.

Here are a few of the things I came up with. Some of these I am already doing, others I need to make a better effort at.

EXERCISING SELF-CARE

For some reason, we tend to be great at looking after other people and really crap at looking after ourselves – women, especially. I’m certainly not going to hold myself up as a model of good behaviour. I know how important it is to eat well, drink plenty of water and get enough exercise and sleep, and although I fall down in one or more of these areas at times, I think I’m doing a pretty good job overall. I don’t practise self-care out of a sense of obligation – unlike the types of people who make a show of eating a salad 'to be good', as if trying to win brownie points with their body – I do it because I know how much better I feel when my body is getting what it needs. If I feel like a chocolate bar I’m going to eat a chocolate bar, and not feel guilty about it – self-care is not a slavish devotion to healthy living. 

SETTING GOALS

Choosing something to aim for – running a marathon, setting a savings goal, shooting for a work promotion – does a lot to enhance your emotional health. Firstly, it lifts you out of a sense of feeling stuck and dissatisfied with your life. Secondly, backing yourself to strive for something reinforces your sense of self-worth. And finally, the sense of satisfaction from achieving a goal further boosts your self-esteem. Having healthy self-esteem is a big, big deal – it means you’re better able to weather difficult times and more likely to form healthy, nourishing relationships. 

COMMITTING TO DAILY MEDITATION

Look, I know I talk about meditation a lot, but honestly, it is the best tool I have in my arsenal for staying calm and focused. That doesn’t mean I don’t lose my shit sometimes, but it does mean my emotional baseline is higher – I can return to a calm centre more easily, and from there my intuition is more accessible. Deepak Chopra says that meditation isn’t about making your mind be quiet, it’s about tapping into the quiet that is already within you. I love that.

CONNECTING

This is a big one for me, because I’m introverted and have a tendency to isolate myself. For the most part that is not a problem, however, if I become totally reclusive that’s unhealthy. Why? Because it’s our relationships to others that give our lives meaning. Spending time with people we love is consistently rated as one of life’s most enriching experiences. And no, connecting on social media doesn’t count.

Connecting to your community, too, is hugely beneficial for your emotional health, through volunteering, joining groups and attending local events. This is an important way to protect yourself against feeling isolated and lonely.

PRACTISING GRATITUDE

Another thing I bang on about – for good reason. Across the board in positive psychology research, gratitude is consistently associated with happiness. Reflecting on what’s great in your life, instead of what you perceive to be wrong, in a sincere way – not a vapid "beyond blessed" way, a la celebs on Instagram – will always bring you back to a state of contentment. If you’re aware of how wonderful your life truly is, you’ll treat yourself better, will make better choices and you’ll commit to overcoming obstacles with a greater sense of resolve. I have no research to prove this, I just know that this is true. Kinda makes sense, if you think about it. 

The best part: there are no pricey premiums on this insurance policy, and the payoff is readily accessible.