Lasting Legacy
The thought had been percolating at the back of my mind for some time I’d say but there I was in the very early morning, before the birds were up, posting on my (former) threads account “I’m thinking about getting a tattoo” – as if anyone in the social media universe was going to care one way or the other. It just seemed like something to say – perhaps to hold myself accountable for my “maybe I will maybe I won’t” decision.
On the whole I am not a tattoo person and have never sat myself down and said “you need to get one of those.” Inking the body is an art form – a way to express a sense of self. I don’t judge others for having them – unless they are my sons in which case I was very judgmental when they showed me their first (yes, first) tattoos. I believe my response was “I didn’t make you that way.” They of course see their bodies as blank canvases to be treated as they wish. And they’re right. I gave them the canvas, they are the ones who decide if the canvas will remain blank or be adorned and give their stamp of whatever they wish to say, whatever impression they wish to create.
Up until that early morning thought bubble over my head, I hadn’t given much consideration to the stance I had taken on body art. I didn’t care for it for myself, but “why” was the nagging question. As with many of the things I’ve liked or disliked, it was an idea seeded and grown in my box of “yes or no” - because my mother had told me tattoos were unflattering. I believe it was issued more of a warning than a position – “don’t you dare ever do” - you can fill in the blank of the things I was never to do. An ankle bracelet was one such “never”. I didn’t need to ask why that was a never because as the warning was issued, the fact that it was “unsavory” and of “poor taste” was mentioned. It showed me that wearing one of those bracelets was “the tell” about what kind of woman would do so. I remain unclear as to who nominated my mother as the arbiter of good taste.
I laughed about the ankle bracelet with a friend once and she encouraged me (dared me really) to get one and wear it. I was an adult with children by this time, not a teenager ready to defy and rebel against my mother’s dictates. My friend helped me choose one and I put it on at once after we left the store. Did I look over my shoulder? Even though my mother had passed away many years before, I still felt her disapproving eyes boring into the back of my head. Some of those seeds have very deep roots.
An ankle bracelet can be taken off, it can be relegated to a box never to be worn again, as happened with the one I bought. I never felt comfortable with it, because it just wasn’t my style. I didn’t embrace the look. A tattoo on the other hand is permanent and something you need to live with, to be comfortable with. You can’t change your mind and relegate it to a box. An ankle bracelet is a whim. A tattoo is a commitment.
When I told my younger son that I was giving this some thought he was at first shocked and we shared some laughter over me finally letting go of old beliefs. He walked me through how and where and who might do this for me, and did I know what I wanted. And there has been the roadblock. I have no clear idea what I want. I know more about what I don’t want than what I would be happy looking at every day for the rest of whatever life I have left.
I’ve played with temporary tattoos to see if it’s something that I truly believe I want. I’ve flipped between wanting something deeply meaningful, something fun and frivolous or something that will make a statement. I’ve seen making this commitment as a legacy of what my life has been about.
Here is what I know today. I do not want a tattoo, and I won’t be getting a tattoo. The idea was fun and it was something I seriously considered. It’s something I won’t regret not doing and it’s not an idea I’ll need to revisit.
At this moment I’m facing a health uncertainty that I won’t know any more about until the end of March, beginning of April. So legacy is very much on my mind.
I’ve been thinking about the things I’ve done with my life, the places I’ve been, the experiences I’ve had, the people I’ve known, the relationships I’ve nurtured, the ones I’ve lost, the ones that might yet develop. I think of the lessons I’ve learned, the ones I’ve shared, the ones I’ve taught my children. I’ve been thinking about the lessons and experiences that still await me. I’ve been thinking about how I treat people in the same way I wish to be treated. I’ve thought about the impression I leave with others by the way I’ve lived my life – through the up times and through the times of adversity and uncertainty.
Legacy is created by what you do with your life, not how you present the outer self. It is the inner qualities of what makes you “who” you are. That is the message I want to leave, and I don’t need it stamped upon my skin. It is stamped upon my heart, in my soul, in my spirit and I hope imprinted in the hearts and the minds of those I’ve loved and those who have loved me. My legacy won’t be an image or words on my skin. It will be talked about, written about and lived through the eyes of others.
(this article also appears on my Substack)
