I Followed All the Rules. Until I Didn’t

Originally published in Crow's Feet: Life As We Age on Medium.

How loss, aging, and a tattoo helped me rediscover my strength

I never thought I’d get a tattoo. I remember the guys in high school debating what they’d have inked on their shoulders for all time — Mighty Mouse, Superman, a monster truck. Really? I couldn’t imagine anything so significant that I’d want it permanently stamped on my body. Tattoos just weren’t for me.

Then life punched me in the face.

I’m a classic Gen X rule-follower. I earned the golden degrees, climbed the ladder, had a family, and created a full, very scheduled life. I was on my way. For well over a decade, I got up at 4:00 a.m. to work out, caught the bus into the city, poured my heart into my work, arrived home in time for sports practice or school stuff, made dinner (to this day ‘what’s for dinner’ makes my stomach do somersaults), packed lunches, did late night laundry, and pressed the repeat button. Again, and again.

It was fun. It was hard. I loved it, and I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. More importantly, none of it would have been possible without my husband, who seemed to take on more than half the duties with a calm steadiness.

And then, everything started to shift.

Work didn’t feel the same. I couldn’t tell if I was burned out or just bored. Was it the realization the kids were getting older and time was slipping away? Was it simply midlife doing what midlife does, prompting me to consider what I want for the second half of my life?

Life kept coming at me: my stepfather passed away from a sudden heart attack, I lost my father to cancer, my husband was diagnosed with ALS, our sons were graduating soon. The repeat button was pressed again and again, but this time, life was punching me in the face.

I kept showing up, just as I always had, but inside, I was unraveling. I looked for comfort in the usual places: support groups, books, talking to friends. But none of it really fit. No one seemed to be living a life like mine. I read a book or two on mindset and then I stumbled across a podcast on life coaching and, oh, how I needed it.

One particular message stuck with me: I can choose how I want to think about anything — my situation, my future, everything. I must have played that episode five times. I heard the message. I’d spent years doing what needed to be done, in the way it was supposed to be done. But this gave me permission to imagine something more. What if there were other ways? What if I didn’t need to follow my old rules anymore?

That’s where it began. As I challenged my perspective and explored what was possible for my life, I started to consider getting a tattoo.

I wanted something that felt like a quiet declaration — a reminder that I had changed. That I had survived things I never saw coming. That I could start again. I gave it some thought, and found a design that spoke to me. It includes the ouroboros, an ancient symbol of a snake eating its tail — life, death, rebirth — all in one, along with the North Star and a waxing moon, signs of hope, direction, and becoming.

I never thought I would get a tattoo but, at age 48 I did. Actually two. And I love that it happened now — not when I was 18, not when I was chasing who I might become, but now, when I know who I am.

Because aging, it turns out, is not a slow fading. It's a refining. A sharpening. It's giving me permission to live with fewer shoulds and more truth. 

When I catch a glimpse of my tattoo, I’m reminded that even when life comes at me, I get to choose how I respond.

Today, life is different. For now, the turbulence has subsided. But when it rises again, and I know it will, I’ll be more than ready. My tattoo reminds me of my strengths and ability to begin again, not in spite of age, but with the power it brings.  

Are you ready to consider things you never thought possible?

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