During my favorite weekly yoga class, I often find myself elongating my limbs next to a woman with a beautiful and bold tattoo on her forearm that reads, “Your silence will not save you.”
I love that tattoo.
I think about the owner of that tattoo a lot. In particular, I’m curious about what secret, truth or fear she kept bottled up inside for so long that she needed a permanent reminder to never go back there again.
I’m glad she did, though. Because every time I’m next to her, hanging upside down in Downward Dog pose, I’m reminded that I stayed silent for entirely too long about my insecurities and the subsequent titles and trophies I collected like they were trading cards in order to feel better about myself.
I’ve moved beyond suffering through my struggles while staying silent – but make no mistake, old habits die hard and sometimes they show up in sneaky ways. Like they recently did for me.
Several weeks ago, while in NYC for a business trip, I found a lump in my left breast while taking a shower just before a big client meeting. It wasn’t maybe, perhaps or possibly a lump. It was a big-ass lump. Unmistakable.