This past Tuesday I went to finish up the colouring on a tattoo that I had. I had it outlined last year October so it had been a long wait for me and I was very excited to finally finish it up. It was a chrysanthemum and a couple of leaves on the backside of my arm; I went to the studio earlier this year with intentions of finishing it but I just ended up getting another chrysanthemum on the front of my arm. The last sit was extremely easy; my chrysanthemum was outlined and coloured all within a session with just one break in-between. There was definitely a lot more area to cover this sitting though. Some space on the back of my arm had already been filled in, but this chrysanthemum was a lot larger and there was work to be done right by my shoulder, all the way down and onto my elbow. I wasn’t too worried about the pain this time around since I’ve already had the outline in and that’s usually one of the most painful parts. The absolute most painful part of getting a tattoo so far, at least in my experience, is when single needles are used for really fine lines or details. But for colouring, the needles cover a larger surface area so the impact and the pain is less concentrated. It definitely still is a very painful experience but I knew it was bearable.
And it was. I actually didn’t have much of an issue with the entire backside of my arm. Even when the needles were going over my elbow, I handled it well. Of course, it was extremely painful on some parts of the elbow but there were other parts where I felt like I didn’t feel any pain at all. I was fiddling on my phone and I had pretty interesting chats with the artist, Travis, about all sorts of topics from nuclear bombs to hannya masks.
What really broke me were the touchups on my older tattoos that Travis wanted to do afterwards. There are times that some colour will get lost when a tattoo has fully healed due to the scabbing process so there were some small patches of missing colour that he wanted to fill in. He said that there wasn’t much work left, maybe around half an hour or an hour at most. We were already three hours in and I was a little too stressed out at that point but reluctantly, I took it on. He prepared the other colours and we got started. A few minutes in, I found myself wincing. It surprised me because it was the same area that was really easy to sit the last time around. But I took it. A few minutes longer, my body started to shake. Travis told me that if I kept moving that it would take much longer so I tried hard to focus or tune out or whatever I was doing. The needle went right on and I just shook again. It didn’t seem like I had any sort of control over my body. When he looked at me with a disapproving look I told him I couldn’t help it and we should probably just leave what was left for next time. He told me I was psyching myself out and that because we were so close to the end, I was convincing myself I couldn’t take it anymore. “How many years do you think I’ve been doing this for?” His rhetorical question really convinced me that he was right; it was all in my head and I was kidding myself. He told me to toughen up and once more, the needle went on and this time I writhed. Hard. My backside just came off bed. He started scolding me again but before he finished his sentence, it was like all the tears that I could possibly produce in that instant just came down my face and soaked the disposable sheet under me. After he finished his sentence, he didn’t say anything more and I knew he was done with me when he started wiping me down. I just waited for him and the tears continued flowing. I was embarrassed and felt extremely guilty because his paints were going to waste. I felt weak and small.
Travis was quiet for a bit and he didn’t speak until he was bandaging me up. He apologized to me for pushing me too hard. “I really like to push people.” He said it helps people get to the end but he also admit that sometimes he makes a mistake with understand what certain people’s limits are. I felt a little better about feeling small and I tried to tell him that I was okay by my voice kept breaking. I still felt embarrassed though. I mean, mentally I was just fine but it was like I had no control over what my body was doing.
I think what happened was that my body had simply run out of adrenaline. Even though I was only around three and a half hours in, it was definitely the most area I’ve handled in one sitting. It felt like after a certain point, the degree of pain just shot up the scale in an instant. It was indescribable and the worst kind of pain I’ve ever experienced. It could have been a number of other things as well. I usually pop in a couple of extra-strength tylenol tabs and maybe one during the break but I had forgotten them at home and we were running late so I didn’t have time to drop in at a pharmacy. I also hadn’t been getting much sleep and didn’t have much to have to eat that morning. Additionally, we usually only take one break but we took three that session. Maybe it’s a little bit like running; once you stop, it’s hard to finish the race without stopping again and the more you stop, it gets exponentially worse.
Whatever happened, I cried. I don’t ever think of myself as a pansy or a quitter but it happened to me. I accept that everyone has a limit and I guess I have an idea of what mine is now. I’ll be waiting until February to extend my sleeve and complete my touchups.