My body is my canvas: Tattoo #8 & 9

As part of healing with my depression, I've been using my tattoos for symbols of parts of my life. While this practice can be typically common, I've gone over emotional with the meanings behind some of my tattoos.
The tattoos I'm getting next are going to be my more delicate meaningful ones.

#8: I've spent so long in the darkness,
I'd almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.

This quote takes on a lot of meaning with my depression. With the depression has been a lot of darkness in my life lately. I've been going through a rough time the past few months, and my depression was severe to the point of me being bed ridden. Things are slowly lightening up, and to me, this quote is a reminder that no matter how long the darkness lasts, to remember and be grateful for the light(s) guiding you out of the darkness.


#9: Dave Sanchez Sugar Skull Modified.

The picture on the left is the original skull that was used to inspire the one on the right. As you can see from picture one, those colors will be incorporated into my piece as well, maybe some change ups. Behind her head is broken hearts, and there is a single tear falling from her eye.
The things added to the one I'm getting is the corner of her mouth is stitched.
*Trigger Warning*
This is where the symbolism comes in for me. This piece is being used as part of my healing towards the sexual assaults I went through. I've been through two sexual assaults, and one attempted. This tattoo is about the silence I've encountered through the experience. The broken hearts represent the sexual assault during a relationship of mine, and how it acts within my relationships. It also represents the pain I feel inside every time I'm reminded of any of the encounters. The tear represents the tears I've shed, and how it negatively has impacted me. The stitching on her lips represent the silence I've faced, feeling unable to talk about it with family and in certain instances. It represents the silence I feel when rape jokes are made.
This tattoo is a symbol of my strength, what I've endured, and how I'm continuing to go on. The rose brings on the elegance aspect of my recovery. It shows my continuation to grow and fight through the daily PTSD battles. It's the beauty of how I am a survivor.

Picking up the pieces

It's been quite awhile since I've actually written on here. Somewhere in that time, I found myself, lost myself, and am slowly collecting the pieces to get back to my peaceful place. It seems so much easier than it sounds- but the brutality if this entire thing is it's one of the most goddamn difficult things to do. It's exhausting in every single aspect: Physically, mentally, and emotionally. It also doesn't help when at times, you have the wrong support system trying to help you.

In many ways, I've figured out that it's best to try to collect the pieces on my own. I've been so dependent on people helping me gather them, and they're usually the ones that take the pieces with them when it's no longer convenient to put my missing piece where it belongs. The only way I can explain this is through biblical reference.
I once attended a Christian retreat where the focus was having someone help you "carry your cross", aka your burdens, the things that weigh you down. I trust people too much to help me carry that cross, and ultimately how it goes is such; They see me struggling, they pick it up on the other side with me, walk with me for a while, then end up walking away all of a sudden. By this point, I fall by the sudden weight shift, and with the loss of blood from my crown of thorns (aka my depression, my burdening thoughts) I lose energy to continue.

This is why I've come to realize that I truly do need to solve all my problems myself. I don't mind my friends and loved ones reminded me to stop and drink some water and rest. I actually encourage the support. It revives my own strength and encourages me to continue my journey- no matter how hard it gets.

Depression seriously fucks with your head in so many disturbing ways. I can only name a few of these examples: (WARNING: THIS COULD BE TRIGGERING)
The suicidal thoughts: not exactly something I'm proud to admit, but yes. I have them at times. I've read several great quotes that describe depression, one of my favorites being, "Depression is like drowning, except everyone around you is still breathing." It's so suffocating, especially mentally. One of my biggest flaws in character is that I HATE being a disappointment in any way. When I feel like I'm massively disappointing multiple people, that I'm doing everything wrong, burdening the world; Bam. The world would be better off without you. At least that way, you can stop hurting the people around you with your mistakes and stop disappointing others. You can be replaced, you will eventually be forgotten.
I recognize, this is absolutely terrible. Deep down somewhere, I know this is a completely false statement. That's the absolute crap my mind traps me in though. It's that I'm not good enough. I don't deserve to be treated nicely. I deserve any and all hurt of any form, including in my past. I haven't fully gotten to work this out with a therapist, but I believe somehow, in a sadistic way, it's part of the healing process. It's the constant breaking myself down to rebuild myself up. I have heavy demons that I can only eliminate through a long healing process.

Self-Harm: Again, not one of the prettier aspects. Self harm has become so different for me now than it was when I was 13 and beginning to draw my stories and struggles on my arms and legs. I use to never push down hard enough, because I didn't embrace the pain enough nor did I want to face the fact that I had a problem. My past two relapses reminded me of my very first time: I feel my head to fuzzy in a delusional way, I remember grabbing whatever I'm going to use, then without thought, I push as hard as I can. The thoughts in my head, now dribble down my body. They're released from intoxicating my bloodstream. There's a sudden calm following. It's all such a flash and blur. The build up to it literally feels like insanity. I can't even describe the feeling, and I hope none of my loved ones or friends EVER understand that feeling.

Body confidence: anyone who's close to me knows I'm super self conscious of my body. There's random moments, when I'll be in a good mind state, and I'll see the pure beauty I have. During that time, I can also see my body how it actually is, a healthy shape and size that actually can look slimming at times. The rest of the time, despite those moments, I feel so insecure. When I look into the mirror, that girl who looked slimming a few hours ago now has a double chin, stomach looking 6 months pregnant, jeans so constricting and wide hips that can run into everything. It's a complete distortion of how I actually look. Beauty in society comes in all sizes and I'm a firm believer in that one. However, when your own mother and society runs their mouths, telling you that the weight you're gaining is unacceptable, this is exactly what happens. It's part of the reason I was anorexic for awhile in high school after gaining 10 pounds and being told that the fact I had to go up a jean size meant I needed to lay off eating so much. Then there was my senior year, trying to deal with this all over again. I did the opposite, and during my depressive states would eat until I felt my acid reflux hit. It was a different pain that lingered. I formed a bad habit out of it and consequently, cause my own gallbladder to fail by the age of 18. Which is super young for a person to have their gallbladder removed and looking like a fucked up burnt chicken thigh. Honestly, I dont give a flying fuck what society says. Its my mother. Like I said earlier, I'm a people pleaser. Especially when it comes to the people who created and raised me. All a child wants is parental acceptance. To constantly hear the fat, pudging, your-jeans-are-too-tight comments? Yes, it ruins your own self image.

I'm picking myself up, yet again in a different time of my life. I'm returning to blogging as an outlet and my self reflection. Writing is therapeutic. Maybe someday, I'll recover entirely, even if it occasionally comes crawling back into my life.

Internal Acceptance.

I'm going to start using this for my Internal Acceptance movement I'm going to work on.

Every day I'm going to post a picture about a body part or something that relates to something I like about myself, and then explain why I like it.

I'm hoping that through this, I'll be able to start accepting myself more, and see where I can go with it.

I'm just hoping it'll open up my eyes to myself,
and maybe start loving myself for once.

Imagine:

You’re sitting in a busy, noisy room. All of a sudden, it’s quiet. The earth just feels still, and you feel like for a moment, it’s only you. Nothing else is around, it’s just quiet. After a few moments, you begin hearing noise again, and you snap back into reality, realizing that while you were stuck in that moment, the world continued on without you. The noise and rush of the room comes back to your sense, overwhelming them.

And you realize that the moment you tuned everything out and the earth stood still… it was the most peaceful moment in weeks.

I wonder if that’s what death is like.

Failure.

High School:
I was the girl with struggles, but held it together through the end of the day.
The girl who had visible and invisible scars.
The girl who strived, worked hard, and succeeded.
I was that girl that could go into ANY audition or interview, confident and usually it paid off.
I always held my head high, walked into any room like I owned it.
When in class, I was the kid who sat there quietly and finished the homework.
Who studied quietly, finishing assignments with ease and precision.
I wasn't intimidated easily, I embraced new opportunities to grow.
I volunteered, and was the best I could be.
Always on the honor roll, always above 3.5 GPA.
Involved in many clubs, and other extra curriculars.
I balanced Choir, Band, Being President of GSA, school work, dance, theatre, being part of Large group theatre, having a job and so much more.
Still succeeded in everything I did.
And still had time for myself, and doing my own thing.
At the end of the day, I was successful.
I graduated in the top 15% of my class,
graduated with National Honor Society title.
With all of those activities.
I accomplished so much in high school.

And now...
What do I have to say for myself?
I no longer live up to those expectations that I had.
Somehow in the matter of a year,
Holding it together stopped coming naturally.
I became depressed, developed anxiety
to the point of where it's crippling.
I can't even make it through everything.
I'm unfocused, not motivated.
I'm struggling to keep my grades up.
Any new experience scares the hell out of me.
My anxiety gets the best of me 90% of the time.
I can hardly keep up with anything.
I had to drop my extra-curriculars so I could strictly focus on school.
I've had to transfer schools,
I'm scared of failing completely.
And yet, I see it happening in front of my eyes.
I'm afraid of failing.
I'm scared that my depression will be the end of me.
The thing that makes me drop out of school,
not be successful.
I'm using all these resources,
and seeing no progress.
I'm afraid that I'm not good enough for anybody.
That no matter where I go, what I do, or how hard I try,
I will never get anywhere in life.
I'll be stuck like this.

I brutally honest to God hate who I've become.
I hate who I am now.
I want to be the old me again.
But I can't.
My anxiety and depression are going to get in the way.
I can try to brush it off,
I can act like it's no big deal,
I can try to not let these thoughts get to me,
but the reality is still there.
The feelings, thoughts are still there.
I can control it to some extent....
But not enough to get me back to that. I'm not proud of who I am now.
And if I'm not proud of me,

Who the hell  should be?

and who the hell will be?

A Simple Reminder of my Relationship.

A Leap of Faith

Faith.
What does it truly mean?
Does it mean going to church every Sunday?
Does it mean reading a Bible?
Or is it simply something inside ourselves?

Everyone's definitions are going to be different.
For me, it's something bigger than ourselves.
Something beyond our own beings.
It's this high power that surrounds us,
watches us, keeps us,
but not just that.
It's believing in that being.

Yes, this is going to be a blog about my own spirituality and faith.
It can be touchy.
And I understand not everyone is going to agree with me.
But I feel like right now, I'm unable to just talk to people about it.
So I need to write it out.
If you don't want to know, then you should probably stop here.
I haven't been able to have a good discussion about faith.
About my journey with God.
And I don't really know where to turn to with such an intimate subject.
So blog, here I am.


It's not been an easy journey.
Or something that just easily came to me.
I've been struggling to get to this part of my life.
And granted, I'm not 100% perfect.
Nor will I be for awhile.
Or ever. Because noone is perfect.
But I'm trying to work on being my best.

Spirituality.
Honestly if you would've asked me before I moved to Clarke,
I would've told you I don't really have a belief.
It was a part of my life I didn't reflect.
A part of me I just ignored and suppressed.

From the beginning
I was raised Catholic.
To me, religion was....
going to church on sundays.
dressing up for mass on holidays.
going through the motions.
forgetting about church until the next sunday.
And it continued like this for quite awhile.

When I was 13,
I was beginning a vicious cycle
of physical, emotional, and mental abuse
and cutting.
I felt so betrayed by God.
And I didn't understand why He would do such a thing
to me and my family.
I hated church from that point on.
I hated getting up.
I hated going.
It meant absolutely nothing to me.
I would make hateful comments towards God,
because I was so angry.
I felt he had just abandoned me.
And he never answered my prayers to make the pain stop.

Then, at the age of 15,
something miraculous happened.
I met someone who would become a special part
of my life, and who would ultimately
bring me back to God.
During the first few months of the relationship,
I was skeptical about faith.
I didn't see much of a point.
But she had such a great relationship with God,
and wanted to share that same experience with me.

Once I was 16 and able to drive,
I decided to give her youth group a shot.
Little did I know, it would be the ultimate thing for me.
At first, I wasn't really into it.
I was mostly there because she wanted me there.
I was searching for the spiritual meaning, but not too hard.

My first really big God experience,
was at a Christian concert that occurred in Burlington.
Fireflight, Thousand Foot Krutch, Kutless, and others were playing.
The youth group was going, so I was invited.
When I heard the name Kutless, I immediately jumped on the opportunity.
I mostly saw it as a getaway and just another concert.
It turned into so much more than that.
At one point, Fireflight was on the stage.
And I'll never forget the lead singer.
She had her band singing this one line of a song
behind her while she talked.
She asked us to bow our heads.
Out of respect, I did.

She said,
"Find something in your life, that you just are having a hard time dealing with.
Something that is causing so much pain and weight on your shoulders.
Think of it really hard.
Now hold out your hand, and imagine that problem in your palm.
Close your hand into a tight fist,
and lift it up in the air.
Lift it up to God, and ask him to take that burden from you.
Let him take your pain, your suffering,
and give it all to him."
We all sang the line softly under our breaths while everyone focused.
I had put my dad's abuse into my fist.
And in that moment,
I all of a sudden felt light.
I felt free.
I felt the pain just leave.
And I began crying.
And in that moment, I found God.

I was held, and asked if I was alright.
I looked her right in the eye,
and told her what had just happened to me.
And we hugged.
It was truly an incredible experience.
And from there, my relationship with God was strong and intimate.
I could feel his love in my life.
I had stopped cutting.
And within a week of the concert,
the abuse subsided.
And for a year of my life, I was truly happy.

I shared my experience with a couple others in my youth group,
and they agreed that God had done something wonderful to me.

After the relationship ended,
I lost God.
I continued to go to youth group for awhile,
until I felt like I was no longer welcome.
And from there, I lost my faith, my relationship,and that part of me left.

God knows that since then,
I have been through Hell and back.
Even though I stopped believing in Him.
I questioned it a lot.
I dated plenty of people after,
but none of them were in touch with God or their faith.
Therefore, I wasn't either.

During these times, there were moments God was present,
And I ignored Him.
Completely ignored God and His works.
During my time at Mount Mercy,
It was a Catholic school and believed in spirituality.
But it didn't seem too emphasized.
I kept with my strained relationship
unsure how I felt or what I believed.
There were definetely moments
when God was trying to reenter my life,
and I pushed him back away.

My friend Allyn found a new church through her CORE group,
and asked me to join her for mass.
So we went with our friend Mila.
God was trying to show Himself to me.
And after the mass, I questioned myself a LOT.
Yet, I ended up going back into my normal routine.
And it seemed that moment had hardly any effect on my life.

Then I went through my anxiety.
Transitioning to Clarke has been a hard experience.
And yes, it still is.
And I'm working on getting the help I need.
I'm currently enrolled in a Foundations of Spiritual Life class.
At first, I had the attitude of,
"Oh great. A religion class."
But it hasn't been like that at all.
It's actually been a great reflection on my life.
And it's made me think about where I'm at and what I want.

Last Thursday, I hit rock bottom.
I was contemplating suicide.
I felt like I was burden to everyone
and that I didn't need to bother everyone with my issues anymore.
With the help of my girlfriend Lindsay, RA, and one of my other best friends,
I struggled, but made it through the night to see the next day.

This weekend though, I felt I truly was beginning to find God.
I seeked for a Bible verse to get me through my depression,
and used it as inspiration to keep going.
 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11

I used that to remind myself that there was hope.
And God saw that as an opportunity to reshow Himself.
And this time, I saw it.

I volunteered for Into The Streets on Saturday to kick off our homecoming.
It was cold,
It was early in the morning,
I got poked with thorns with gloves with holes,
dealt with a mean nun,
and did NOT complain.
Because I saw it as doing God's work.
I felt good helping others.
I felt satisfied with myself.

And later that day, God showed his miracle to some girls on my floor.
We were able to witness the birth of a calf.
And it was one of the most beautiful things.
Watching a creature come into the world.
In return for doing His work,
He showed us one of His gifts and miracles.
We named the calf Benny Clarke, after Mary Benedict Hall, our dorm at Clarke.
It was such an intimate bonding moment for us all,
and to be able to pet Benny after being born
was truly just a gift and miracle.

Then for religion class,
We had to read A Gift Of Peace by Joseph Cardinal Bernardin.
And I saw a lot of myself in the book,
found it very relatable,
and gained a lot of insight through it.
I found myself wanting to become a better person.
I've just felt closer spiritually to God.

And apparently, my refound faith has shown.
I'm more loving towards my girlfriend,
treating her the best I can.
I want to know more about her,
what makes her the way she is,
when I get impatient or get snippy,
I immediately apologize for my wrong doing.
I'm finding myself working harder to make the relationship
work and functional.
And to become everything she needs and wants in life.

My name is Kelsey Fenton.
And I have refound God.