When I shower I use the hot to steam open my pores. At the end I shut off the hot and stand under the cold until my nuts shrink to acorns. I like to feel. I like the sensation that I'm alive, speeding down the road at a hundred and fifty-five.
I'm an artist and get as much art as I give. There is intense feeling while under the needle receiving your art. You feel alive. The inner rebel steps up and stands tall. I believe that's one of the draws to tattoos.
There were times in my life when drugs over shadowed natural highs. The excitement you feel when you accomplish something amazing. These days I smack myself in the nuts and take deep breaths to walk through the pain. During exceptionally long and painful tattoos I think through the pain by imagining hurt and heartache leaving the body.
When my grandfather died I put an eagle on my arm in memory of his legacy. The eagle is powerful and respected. It represents our country, freedom and the men who fought for that. My Grandfather was all of that. I couldn't attend his service, nor did he see me get free. I let that hurt and disappointment in myself go with the pain of that tattoo.
We can let life hand us our daily dose. Take it as its rationed out and wear it. Problem is, all too often life can seem to hand you a shit sandwich on the regular. So many are prone to depression that a couple hard doses of bad luck can trigger you into a funk that overtakes you.
Now I'm not saying to go smack yourself in the nuts, but you need to find some release that centers you once again. Perhaps a tattoo is up your alley. Maybe you're not into that. Climb up on the roof and lay there and look at the stars. Look at how big it is out there and then realize your problem is so small. You can change your job, the people you associate with and the things you come into contact with.
I've had to realize I can't do any of that right now. The asshole who cut me off in line lives 2 bunks over. The cop who yells at me every day works here full time. I can't leave for another 19 months. So I pinch myself, slap myself and take cold showers. Because that's what I DO have control over.
I understand why people cut. I understand why some women sleep with multiple partners. I understand why some men go home and beat on their wives.
You done lost control somewhere else and you're overcompensating in some area where you can feel you took it back. I can't wait till I get back and have the chance to make choices once again.
Had I never come to prison and went to a drug rehab instead, I too would be on 10 different medications. Perhaps an antidepressant, some methadone to help past my addiction and something for anxiety. Instead I came to prison where I was forced to get clean and confront my demons. Anxiety? When you're an asshole to me I steer as clear of you as I can, but I also know you're the one in pain. You're the one who has the issue, not me. That's why you're an asshole.
I'm going home to ride a Harley, be a Dad and have casual sex. You're still going to work here and your life will still suck. Depression? I'm about to go home. Prison is my antidepressant. Once I'm home, what can life ever throw me that overshadows 10 years in a dog house?
What night terrors? I live with crazies who roam the halls and aisles all night looking for trouble. They're still raping blond haired blue-eyed white dudes. What's my terror? I'm late on the power bill? Go on....cut that shit off!
I realize you all sweat these things. Just think about how much of your life your wasting. And if your living a good life? Consider yourself blessed.
19 months and counting.......