A prison. A cell, to be exact. Confined within these walls, the only windows I can see through show her body in blood, his truck mangled around a tree, her "MISSING PERSONS" ad. It's dark, I know, but it is not an exaggeration. In other words, I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. (Don't know what this is? Check out my article, "Talking About Mental Illness: OCD"). As of June 2016, I also have a tattoo. If you know me, or continue reading this sentence, you'll know that I have a severe needle phobia. Needles and hospitals and anything affiliated with them is one of the biggest triggers for my OCD. I'm talking, avoid at all costs any situation that could put me in or near a hospital because even the smell of the rubbing alcohol will send me into a panic attack. Avid tattoo-ees, please do not jump down my throat: I'm not saying the tattoo gun is in any way equivocal to an injection, But: the smell of being in the shop and the disinfection of the skin the artist was working on was enough to send me into fight-or-flight mode. And this time, for one of the first times, I fought for myself.
As a child I didn't understand that not all people's minds worked like mine. I didn't know my brain was constantly working in overdrive, neurotransmitters flying every which way and serotonin levels unstable. I thought I was a normal 5-year-old, 8-year-old, 11-year-old; it constantly perplexed me how people could carry on their conversations so well while walking -- weren't they distracted from counting their steps? Weren't they busy enough looking down, watching for cracks in the sidewalk? Because of this, when my therapist told me I was considered to have a "severe case of OCD" I was absolutely shocked. These obsessions, thought processes, anxiety and rituals that were daily routines for me were symptoms and side effects of a seriously debilitating illness.
My freshman year in college was imperative to the beginning of my therapy and cognitive restructuring. Away from old friends and family and the comfort of what I knew, I was often alone. Alone, not lonely - but for me, perhaps alone is worse. In my 19 years of experience, my intrusive thoughts only become darker and more convincing/worrisome when I am isolated. This happens because I can wrap myself into this cyclical thought process and there is nothing there to distract me or pull me out of it. Long story short, my freshman year was full of my worst obsessions and compulsions to date, but by then end of it I hardly recognized the mentally and emotionally strong woman that it produced.
Moving forward to the actual story behind my tattoo-
Wild Child is a band that originated in Austin, Texas that Wiki classifies as "Indie Pop" but I personally don't think you can confine them to any genre. To me, though, Wild Child is so much more than a band. The first time I heard a song by them, I instantly fell in love. This article would be sappy and never-ending if I were to tell you all that this band has done for me and how much their lyrics mean to me and how completely liberating their live shows are. This band inspired me to learn the ukulele, actually, but more importantly, it reminded me how to love myself.
From their most recent album, (Fools) their song "Meadows" resonates with what I'm going through with therapy and medication and becoming a better me. Lead singer and goddess Kelsey Wilson sings, "Pale hands with shaky rings // Stale taste for finer things // Have you thought of what it really means now to let somebody in?" When my music began calling me out on my own unhealthy behaviors, I knew it was time to make some changes. In the chorus, Kelsey and Alexander softly ask, "Could you rid your devils? // Run through fields and meadows // Does it scare you when you think, when you think?" When I heard this line, I cried. Never had I felt lyrics so fully embody the essence of the struggle that I went through every day for 19 years.
Hearing this song prompted me to go back through their other two albums and really digest the lyrics. There is something so cathartic about listening to a song that wasn't directly about my illness, but totally about my illness. Wild Child's lyrics could fit anyone's situation, which only adds to the ripple effect that this band elicits with their art. One that is a personal favorite of mine that seems to be a fan favorite with my friends is "Left Behind" from their second album (The Runaround). Again, reaching out to countless audiences, Kelsey melodically explains to listeners, "We're never who we think we are // Cause we were born to change our minds // Surprised that we don't give a damn// About the friends we left behind." Throughout my journey of combatting OCD, I learned that I have to choose to be healthy regardless if those around me follow suit. This song paved the way for me to forgive myself. During my therapy, I cut out a few toxic relationships that heavily impacted those close to me. I felt so ashamed for tearing my family apart but this song reminds me every day that I did the right thing-- Nothing changes if nothing changes.
For those of you who are still with me, thank you, and here's the meat of this sandwich-
Wild Child's debut album (Pillow Talk) in 2011 had one song that has been my favorite and will probably always be my favorite until it's played at my funeral. This, folks, is where I got the inspiration for my tattoo. Rather than over explain this, I'll leave you to watch this live performance:
I have seen Wild Child perform four times live (and counting) and although "Sleep Good & Hold Tight" means the end of the show, it is the part that I look forward to the most. Being there, with people I love, with music I love, in a completely amicable ambiance is the most therapeutic experience I have ever had, four times over (and counting!). At the last concert I went to, I wrote the band a letter and specifically thanked Kelsey for helping me get through this DNA hell that is my OCD- and Kelsey f***ing wrote me back. I won't invade her privacy but I will say that what she told me and the advice she gave will stay with me forever. It was in that moment that I knew what I wanted to do.
My lovely best friend was the catalyst in this mission-- she would be seeing Wild Child at a Texas music festival in May. When she approached Kelsey about my tattoo idea, not only did Kelsey remember who I was (whoa!), but she also loved the idea and wrote "Sleep Good & Hold Tight" in her cursive handwriting for me to get tattooed on the back of my neck.
A Wild Child concert is not simply a concert, it is an experience. For a few hours, my intrusive thoughts drown in the harmonies. My tattoo is not of some lyrics, with frail meaning will fade over time. This was 19 years of coming to this decision, to facing one of my worst fears, and working to overcome my OCD. These lyrics remind me that I'll make it through the worst days, and help me celebrate the best days. This tattoo constantly reminds me how far I have come when I think of how far I still have yet to go. This tattoo is tangible proof that I can conquer my fears and claim autonomy over my illness. But you know what? This tattoo is so much more than a lyric or a band or even an experience. This tattoo is mine.
Check out my other articles in this "Talking About Mental Illness" series!
Addiction: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/talking-about-mental-illness-addiction
Anxiety: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/talking-mental-illness-anxiety
Cognitive Distortions: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/talking-about-mental-illness-cognitive-distortions
