9/29/08

So I got a new tattoo Friday when I was supposed to be in class. I woke up after three hours of sleep and had somehow turned off my alarm again. I was already half an hour late for my first class and it was pouring…so I said screw it, rolled back over, and went back to sleep. I woke up just before my second class was starting and figured since I was already being a bad student, I should just continue the trend and skip both classes.

I’ve known which tattoo I wanted for nearly a year now and my mind hadn’t changed. With everything I have been freaking out about lately, I figured what better time than now. So I called up the tattoo parlor I had found that seemed decent and did good work and they said, "come on in right now."

And now "just breathe" is indelibly etched into my left forearm; nestled amongst barely there scars. I’m glad I did it.

I need to get back in control of my world.

I didn’t sleep last night. I don’t know why. I probably could have if I had tried. Just before sunrise I was getting really drowsy but I knew if I feel asleep then I would never get up an hour later when my alarm went off. So I hauled myself out of bed and drove down to the boardwalk for a two mile run. It was good to clear my head and focus on the pounding of my legs on the wood, my breathing, and the flow of the waves.

I have to stop letting it get to me so badly when my clients are being deported. It’s especially hard when I know they will most likely be killed or tortured upon arrival. I just have to keep telling myself that I can’t save everyone. That I can’t be responsible for my government’s decisions regarding their fate beyond my capacity as their caseworkers. That decision is not my failure. Their death is not my fault.

But I still feel like it is.