tattoo’s and panic attacks

 

I was in improve class last Sunday and my teacher was explaining the difference between emotions, such as the ones were were going to be working with in class, which were; lust, fear, anger, sadness and joy/happiness and states of mind, which examples of are; confusion, depression, confidence and for me anxiety or panic.

This was a total ah ha moment for me as I’ve never made the distinction between the two. So I started thinking about times when my state of mind started to affect my emotions.

I have anxiety sometimes (well I had it a lot when I was in my last relationship) – I’m a high strung gal anyway, but sometimes it gets worse and becomes real anxiety (like when your boyfriend dates other women and plays it off as “potential business contacts” – can I get a Beyonce “If I were a boy” video up in here…) and sometimes the anxiety gets really, really worse for me and it becomes a panic attack (this has only happened less than a dozen times in my life – but let me tell you, it’s not fun).

I was thinking about panic and when ever I’ve had an attack nothing in my physical reality has ever caused it (ie: once I had one at the movies) and panic to me doesn’t start off as an emotion either (it ends up that way), but it all starts off as thoughts or a state of mind (like having my dad visit me for the first time since he had an affair and then left our family home - we went to the movies, see above).

So figuring this out is actually great news because if it starts in my head then I can hopefully shift my state of mind and curb it and with practice curb the anxiety too before it leads me down that slippery slope. I’ve only successfully done it once, allow me to illustrate with my tale…

So I had this tattoo that I had gotten when I was seventeen, it was some cheesy ass chinese character thing that I literally picked out while flipping through the book at the parlor. Not thought out, but it sort of looked like a “K” and my name is Kristen and my friend that was going to get the same one’s name is Katie – so we were giddy. Anyway, it’s never really meant anything to me (it translated to “eternity” which is now ironic) and I always thought I’d get it fixed or removed.  Anyway, during the spring of last year I had these fleeting thoughts that if I ever got strong enough to leave the toxic relationship I was in – I was going to celebrate my strength by getting it changed! Cliché, I know and dramatic – but it’s soooo me, what can I say! 

So fast forward a few months and I did it. I kicked him to the curb and escaped to LA for the week with a grilfriend to get away and most importantly, to not get sucked back in.

So we rented a car (a sliver Mercedes Benz covertable – Erin is a great talker – only paid the rate of renting a Neon!) and it dawns on me while I’m there that Kat Von D’s LA INKed Studio is out here! So I google that bitch up and ask for an appointment. They said they’d take walk ins after 10pm (open to midnight) and that I’d have to take my chances – I waived goodbye to my friend and set out on a solo journey to get my new tattoo! I have to admit that driving past Compton, in a Mercedes convertable, in the pitch black on the LA freeway with only google maps guiding me was exhilarating enough but I ended up making my way to West Hollywood and got an appointment.

So at this point I still had no idea what could be done with my original tattoo – it was all black and pretty thick and dense. My guy, I forget his name but he was such a cutie (he’s not on the show, I checked) came over and we chatted. I told him that I wasn’t into butterfly’s, celtic things or dolphins and that obviously I was over the chinese characters – so we decided the best thing to do was turn the almost chinese looking K into a real K and add some swirls around it – match it to my personality a bit – sort of sweet but with a little edge to it. So he drew it up, I ok’ed it and then he started with the needles. It was painful but in that good kind of pain where you get an endorphin rush, plus he was flirting with me so it was fun. Anyway, he finsihed up and I went over to the mirror and looked it it.

Full blown panic attack.

I felt like the tattoo was huge. Like no joke, my pervious one that I had lived with for years was about 1 inch by 1 inch – now this was like 4 inches of permanent black ink on my body, for life.

I faked a smile, mumbled something about loving it then ran to the bathroom. I was losing the plot and it felt awful. My body was white hot, my vision tunneled, I was shaking and I felt like I was going to be sick – if it sounds extreme – it is – for anyone who’s ever had the misfortune of enduring a panic attack (or a really bad drug trip – ‘cuz it’s the same feeling) knows – it’s the worst thing in the world. It’s not rational and it’s out of control. It’s like you’ve fallen off the edge of reason/reality and are spiraling at mach speed into an irreconcilable void made up entirely of fear. 

All I could think of is oh fuck, what have I done, what have I done… I just broke up with someone I love to death two days ago and thought I was going to marry, I’m in LA, thousands of miles away sleeping on some strangers bed, I left him a box of his shit as my way of breaking up with him after two and a half years and now he’s berating me with manipulative  text messages – but what if he’s right and now I’ve driven by myself to West Hollywood, it’s now the middle of the night and I don’t even know if I can find my way back and I have a giant ass tattoo of a K across my back for the rest of my life…

So knowing I had to stop the panic from taking over completely because I had to make it back, I had to pull it together, somehow. I remember consciously saying to myself, Ok Kristen, can you pretend for just one split baby second that you absolutely LOVE it. I know you hate this and you want it off your skin so badly right now – so you already know how it feels to hate it and feel scared and panicky – so can you just go over and stand in a place where you love it and that you think it looks amazing – just for one second….

So I stood looking in the mirror, face drained of colour and slowly peeled up my dress again to look at it. And I did it. I pretended to love it. I thought in that moment – “yeah, it’s a big mother fucking self indulgent K and I’m proud of it because I’m proud of me, for everything. I’m not wrong for leaving him and everything is great. I’m in LA for christ  sakes.”

All of a sudden total and absoulte relief fleed over me and I knew I didn’t want to go back to the panicky feeling again, so I told myself to just stay with it and I resolved to adore it and love the crazy experience of it all – and I still do. 

I shifted my state of mind and my emotions followed. My physical circumstances didn’t change – just my head space.

Thank god we can do that.