Calm down, it’s just a tattoo
Bury your nose in a bark crevice and breathe deep
I started to plan my commemorative tattoo long before I stepped foot onto the Pacific Crest Trail, ready to celebrate before I’d begun. I collected reference photos in April 2022, just two weeks into hiking. I decided from early on that I wanted a pinecone, and held the ones I found on the trail in my hand, weighing their potential.
When I got home, the excitement faded. I allowed the unfamiliar process of finding an artist and submitting an idea to take six months. When I finally emailed to book an appointment, with my idea and the placement in writing, it was because I couldn’t stand looking at the task on my to-do list any longer. Hitting send made my skin crawl. I knew precisely what I wanted: A ponderosa pine cone on my left arm above the elbow, two inches tall, and a little imperfect.
But had I thought about this enough?
Julia Cameron calls this losing your escape velocity, to allow doubts to creep in and slow your enthusiasm down just enough for the project to sputter out. Conventional wisdom about tattoos, or other big commitments emphasizes careful consideration and certainty. But what if the doubt is persistent, defying all reminders of reality and desire?
Well over a year after getting off the trail, I finally have the ink to mark my thru-hike. And I felt sick the whole week leading up to it. Twice. I spent five days exhausted, distracted, and sick to my stomach until my appointment was rescheduled at the last minute. The next round, I couldn’t sleep and my left eye started to twitch.
I had to remind myself repeatedly that I already had a tattoo.
I wrestled with the same inane insecurities as the first time around: I want to be the kind of person who’s chill about getting the tattoo they want, but I am too busy doubting if I am a person who should get a tattoo.
I’m rolling my eyes too. But the worry refuses taming.
I remember I asked a girl in my study abroad program “Do I seem like the kind of person who’d get a tattoo to you?” Collectively, there seemed to be a new tattoo per week in the class, but I’d convinced myself it’d be weird if I participated in the frenzy. “I don’t think you should think about it like that.” She frowned at me. I knew she was right, so I shut up and kept drawing on clingwrap to transfer my doodles to various locations on my body, plotting.
Perhaps I fear who I have been, and who I might become. Will I change my mind? Could it possibly matter that much? And maybe I don’t know who I am growing into, and what I’ll want in the future. But to worry about a potential metamorphosis is a waste of time. Who knows! I can only exist as I am now.
Before departing on my hike, I wrote that I wanted to be a person who didn’t just plan and dream but did. As it turns out, this is a skill that needs practice, not a lesson I can learn and check off. When I find myself here next, I hope to spend less time cringing and get on with it.
I’ll leave you with some words of advice left by a kind stranger on my first PCT trail report about my start-date doubt:
You’re going to be fine, no matter what. You’ve just the right attitude. Did you know that ponderosa pines come in flavors? Bury your nose in a bark crevice and breathe deep. Most are vanilla, a few are chocolate, and a rare find is butterscotch. Hope you find one!
Happy trails,
Mumble
Sent from Potawatomi lands.