Gratitude, Reciprocity, and an Amazing Tattoo Artist

Okay, this might sound a little rambly, but it will all come together, I promise. I wrote my book,Thank You for Helping Me Heal, as a collection of thank-you letters to people I've met, talked to, observed, or interacted with in some way on my healing journey. I took the time to really dive into my own emotions around the interaction and express, as fully as I could in words, how it impacted me. I believe every action and interaction has the potential to impact others, whether we see it or not. The very first letter I wrote in my journal several years ago was to someone who made a comment during a meeting. The comment wasn't even directed at me, but it impacted me directly. I wanted to thank them for their thoughts, insight, and presence at the meeting. I felt I needed to hear it, and they were the person to say it. I spent a little over three years writing those letters before publishing my book. It started out as a light journaling activity for me in the evenings, but it opened up this world I didn't expect. I realized I was slowly becoming more mindful, more observant, and more of an active listener. I was seeing people in ways I didn't notice before. I wanted to express what I saw through these letters. I wanted others to feel seen because… isn't that what we all really want? To feel like someone really sees us? The project also changed my view of gratitude. Trying to put into words what you want to thank someone for when you're really just thankful for their existance in your world is an interesting exercise. The things, examples, situations that come to your mind are reflective of not just what you see in them, but the emotions they invoke in you. It also made me increasingly self-aware of how others becomes mirrors. It wasn't always what I saw in the other person, but rather, what they made me see in myself. Sometimes they made me see things in myself that were amazing, and I felt deeply immediatly, deeply grateful. Other times, they made me see things that did not feel good, and my initial reaction was anger or irritation with them. How dare they make me feel bad about myself, right? How dare they force me to look at something I was trying to ignore or actively in denial about. My feelings of gratitude for them and those situations was a little slower to evolve, but got there eventually. I already logically knew I should be grateful for the difficult situations and people that helped me grow as a human. I know the healing talk and buzz words. I could hold my own in a woo-woo conversation or a psychological debate. This project took that knowledge from my head to my heart. I can feel the difference now. I published my book in June, so it's been out for a couple of months. Since then, some things in my life have changed, and I've been sad more days than not. I'm also extremely busy with work and family stuff. Life's been life-ing, as my person likes to say. This past week, I've felt a bit overwhelmed and questioning what I'm doing with my life and what the point of it all is. Was it worth it writing the book…did any of it really matter? It could have just stayed a personal journaling project. Why did I bother making it public? Then my tattoo artist reached out to me. She had just read the letter I wrote to her in my book. She shared that she had been feeling disconnected from why she got started. She was feeling drained instead of filled with the passion she once felt. She said my thank you to her hit at the perfect moment when she felt done and needed a reminder of why she started doing this in the first place, and her thank you response reached me in that same moment. I grew up hearing my mom talk about her God moments. Those moments when something happens at the exact right time. When the universe is reminding us…bringing us back to center. I know a lot of people who talk about these moments in different ways. It doesn't matter what you believe in or what you call it… I'm talking about those moments that cause you to breathe and remind you of who you are. This was one of those moments. It also made me recognize the reciprocity created. I wrote another letter to a friend who was amazingly emotionally supportive through my divorce. When she saw it, she messaged me thanking me for being supportive through her later divorce. My first thought was, of course! I'll always be there for you. I love you. In my mind, it wasn't something she needed to thank me for, but isn't that the point? She didn't support me through that time in my life because she was looking for gratitude. She was doing it because she loves me. We see each other. Our expressions of gratitude is a recognition that we each feel seen in our relationship. I wrote a thank you letter to my tattoo artist for making me feel seen at a time in my life when I felt invisible. She thanked me for making her feel seen for her unique talents and intrinsic beauty as a human at a time she was failing to see that in herself. Her message reached me during my own moment of feeling lost. Now we both feel seen and were reminded of own value and beauty, and we'll each carry that into our next interactions and conversations. It just keeps going. My 8-year-old has started thanking people for thanking him. He does it in a cute, mildly joking way, but he's ackowledging that he appreciates us seeing him. We see him doing something, we thank him. He thanks us for seeing him because it makes him feel good about himself. We all love each other. What's my point? I promised I had one. I was in a meeting about two weeks ago when people were talking about how messed up and dismal the world is, and what can we do about it. How can we change the world? How do we make it a better place? The conversation jumped back and forth from negative to positive… from political to personal. It was a bit overwhelming for me at the time, to be completely honest. Here's my point… when we make people feel seen, they feel good about themselves, and spread that good feeling to the people, who then feel seen, and it keeps going forward while also circling back. Forever Becoming is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.