It rained non-stop when I visited Valencia with my mom. Most afternoons, we preferred staying in our apartment over sitting at a wet terrace with greasy tapas bites. Below our Airbnb was a tattoo shop with a neon sign shaped like two cherries hanging in the window. The red-green light reflected on the wet sidewalk, it was hypnotizing. There didn’t seem to be any other option but to go inside.
I told my mom I was going downstairs to get a tattoo, and she wished me good luck. In less than an hour, there was a flaming red heart inked on the inside of my right arm. Back upstairs, my mom nodded when I proudly showed her the result. “How special,” she said. Not her style, but I appreciated her support. A small voice in the back of my head also wondered if I would regret this impulsive action, but I ignored it. I was a brand-new version of myself, one who knew exactly what she wanted.
After all, I had recently broken up with my ex and had never felt so free. For months, I had avoided the decision. I told myself I should be grateful for the relationship I had, and I shouldn’t be complaining. But the doubts kept resurfacing. I kept looking for someone to tell me what to do, someone to tell me what the right choice was. But there wasn’t anyone, so there was only one thing left to do.
At the time, I felt like I could throw up, that’s how hard I found it. Disappointing someone, but also choosing what I felt. I had never done that before.
You can read about it, repeat it, and write it down, but only by doing it can you feel it: only I know what’s best for me, no one else.
After I spat out the words, I might’ve felt a little guilty, but I felt way more space in my head. Suddenly, all the doubts and overthinking disappeared. It was quiet. And I felt relieved. And a little proud that, for the first time, I had actually listened to my own feelings.
So, for once, I didn’t spend months thinking over a decision. All I wanted was a flaming heart on my right arm as an ode to my intuition. “Was that really necessary?” my dad asked when I got home. I smiled proudly without answering. He ran his fingers over the tattoo under the plastic. “Well, at least it’s very nicely done,” he said. Flash forward: I have no regrets about my impulsive heart. Always present and in sight, reminding me that I lead the way.
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Thank you so much for reading this, it means the world to me. I am currently on a journey to relearn how to express myself, and I’ll be sharing creative practices that help with that, along with stories about some meaningful moments.
If you’d like to join me on this path, this Substack is open to anyone who’s also exploring authentic self-expression through creative practices, learning to take up more space—one step at a time.
❤️🔥