Thousand Word Thursday.....literally

When I started writing this I just meant to post the pic and a little description of why I like my tattoo. I didn't fathom this would go where it did. I have skeletons in my closet. Scary skeletons. I am ok with what I have written but it's a big leap for me to even mention the things I did. I don't talk about my deep dark feelings very much, or my feelings at all for that matter, if you hadn't noticed. I have a wall. A thick wall. There are things I have started to write about, decided it was too risky, and deleted. I could have deleted the last paragraph just the same. But, the fact that these things started flowing, I started crying, and I just let it go, tells me I might be ready. It hurts, but I know I can't heal without letting it go. Blogging is new for me. I am still testing the water so to speak. But I like it. I need this safe place. I need this outlet. And I'm afraid if I 'go there' it will be gone. Please be patient with me, I have a lot to work through....and I am hoping blogging will help me with that.

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Thank you Amy for this great post topic!!

I don't really have a favorite body *part*. I have crooked toes, my boobs sag and I'm dramatically lop-sided, yea, I know you wanted to know that. I like my face when I have make-up on, but really I haven't used make-up since it got over 80 degrees...and I wasn't about to do it for a blog picture, sorry, you'll just have to wait for Chicago to see that. My hair sucks!! I desperately need a dye job...I don't have gray hair (which really pisses off my younger sister that has a lot of gray) and it's straight and very fine so it doesn't do a lot and doesn't like to hold a curl. My lips are thin...we're talking chicken lips thin. I have no top lip! So I have my lips tattooed. Yes it hurts like a bitch!! My ass is HUGE. My thunder thighs are an embarrassment all their own. So as far as body parts go....I have a lot of room for improvement.

The one thing on my body that I do like is the tattoo of my parrots on my back. The fact that my sister did it makes it even more special. The tattoo is of Ralph & Gus. Ralph is an African Grey and Gus is a Quaker. Ralph was my first rescue and he taught me so much about patience and understanding and forgiveness. I found him in a dark, outside shed, freezing and starving to death in a tiny locked cage. He hadn't seen the light of day in over a year. I don't have Ralph anymore, he lives in Utah with a family that he adores. He became very aggressive toward me when I got divorced. African Grays are very sensitive to changes in environment and family structure. My husband left and he blamed it on me. It broke my heart but I had to do what was best for him. I get to see him when I go to Utah and he is very happy, and that is what really matters.

Gus is my little stinker. He is the only parrot I have right now. He lifts up his wings and says 'tickle tickle' for me to scritch his wings. He plays peek-a-boo in his birdie bed that I made for him. And he goes to school for show & tells.

When I got the tattoo it was to keep my first two rescue parrots with me forever. It has become so much more since then. I didn't realize it then, but now I see how the time that I was doing rescue/rehab was such a dark time in my life. I know now that I didn't save them, they saved me! I would sit in the bird room for hours and cry and they wouldn't judge me for my tears, they didn't pry or ask questions or try to *fix* me and their noises drowned out my cries so no one in the other room would know, they just let me cry, and I needed that. I cried for for my mom. I cried for my 4th marriage that was circling the drain. And I cried for my son that I couldn't save, that calls someone else mom, that I can't talk about, there are no words for the pain or how I will never forgive myself, so I cry. (And that I risk so much for even mentioning here now.)  And I cried for me because I hated the person I saw in the mirror. Unlike my husband, or my kids, my birds were always happy to see me, would always talk to me, were always excited to learn new things. They were damaged, had been abused, and they needed to heal. And I understood. And something amazing happened....as they healed, as I saw them overcome fears of hands and food dishes and new toys and they would start talking again....I too decided I wanted to be happy and I let myself believe I was worth it. My parrots saved me! When I didn't want to get out of bed, when I laid there and prayed for God to just make my life go away, feeling that I couldn't make it through one more day.  When I just wanted OUT.....I got out of bed for my birds. They needed me, but I needed them more!!