They say freedom isn't free, that there's always a cost. I couldn't agree more. Several years ago, I was freed from a prison I didn't know I was in or could see. You can't spell freedom without freed.
8 years ago on 4th of July weekend, I visited my friends in Phoenix. They invited me down after hearing news of my impending divorce. Since my pity party had lasted months up to this point, I accepted their offer, if only to escape the situation for awhile. Prior to my trip, I designed a tattoo, and had it put on.
In retrospect, I honestly believe I've always had this tattoo underneath my skin and on my soul and it simply hadn't manifested itself, yet. Keyword: yet. Up until this point, again, there was no catalyst. It wasn't freed. Well after my wife had dropped a bomb on me mid-March, that all changed. So with my design, and $100 aka C Note, I drove to the nearest tattoo parlor. I explained to the artist, that I didn't want a tattoo until I had something to say, something profound, and will last until my body is dead. He asked what it was.
I simply said, "Keep digging".
I printed off a document with several fonts, and layout. After a discussion, we agreed upon a font, and placement. I handed over the money that I usually spent on my wife's birthday gift (it's over the holiday weekend) Up until then, I had not experienced that kind of pain before. While I do have a high threshold of pain, this was bar-none the maximum.
On a hot July day in 2008, I crawled up on a padded table in the smallest possible room in the parlor. It was a crucible for my strength. A crucible for confidence; my confidence. As I lay there with nothing else to do but think I concluded a few things.
Again, keep digging mantra was always on my soul, but not displayed on my skin. Finally, it was manifesting itself to where everyone else can see it. Through the blinding pain, I realized this was my "jailhouse ink" from the "prison of a toxic marriage" that I was finally free of.
Freedom.
Why, keep digging? I've explained on a multitude of times, but the following is a rare reason. If I'm running or working out, and someone spies the words, "Keep Digging" on my left calf, well it's to provide inspiration to catch me. And then, if someone passes me on the road, trail, or in the gym, it's a reminder to myself to dig deeper to catch up.
Like the saying goes, freedom isn't free. My freedom wasn't any different. It cost my confidence, my sanity, a true test of my mettle, and $100.
It goes without saying...
Keep digging,
'los
8 years ago on 4th of July weekend, I visited my friends in Phoenix. They invited me down after hearing news of my impending divorce. Since my pity party had lasted months up to this point, I accepted their offer, if only to escape the situation for awhile. Prior to my trip, I designed a tattoo, and had it put on.
In retrospect, I honestly believe I've always had this tattoo underneath my skin and on my soul and it simply hadn't manifested itself, yet. Keyword: yet. Up until this point, again, there was no catalyst. It wasn't freed. Well after my wife had dropped a bomb on me mid-March, that all changed. So with my design, and $100 aka C Note, I drove to the nearest tattoo parlor. I explained to the artist, that I didn't want a tattoo until I had something to say, something profound, and will last until my body is dead. He asked what it was.
I simply said, "Keep digging".
On a hot July day in 2008, I crawled up on a padded table in the smallest possible room in the parlor. It was a crucible for my strength. A crucible for confidence; my confidence. As I lay there with nothing else to do but think I concluded a few things.
Again, keep digging mantra was always on my soul, but not displayed on my skin. Finally, it was manifesting itself to where everyone else can see it. Through the blinding pain, I realized this was my "jailhouse ink" from the "prison of a toxic marriage" that I was finally free of.
Freedom.
"May the wings of freedom never lose a feather" ~ a toast from Jack Burton, Big Trouble In Little China (1986)I was astonished that I didn't realize I was imprisoned by a co-dependent relationship. That I was trapped by a prison I "couldn't see, touch or smell" by a "warden" that was very manipulative. Regardless, I was freed. I was freed the moment I declared to keep digging.
Why, keep digging? I've explained on a multitude of times, but the following is a rare reason. If I'm running or working out, and someone spies the words, "Keep Digging" on my left calf, well it's to provide inspiration to catch me. And then, if someone passes me on the road, trail, or in the gym, it's a reminder to myself to dig deeper to catch up.
Like the saying goes, freedom isn't free. My freedom wasn't any different. It cost my confidence, my sanity, a true test of my mettle, and $100.
It goes without saying...
Keep digging,
'los
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