Alright, so everyone’s been talking about Zion Williamson’s back tattoo. Saw some pictures, and yeah, it’s a big piece of work, no doubt about it. It’s one of those things, you know? Big statement.
But the thing is, when I saw it, my mind didn’t really go to the art, or the pain, or even basketball, funny enough. It threw me back to a different time in my own life. A time when I was looking for some kind of massive, permanent mark myself. Not ink, though. Something else entirely.
It all started a few years back. I was in a real rut. My job felt like a dead end, just going through the motions day in, day out. Seemed like everyone I knew was making these huge leaps, buying houses, getting promotions, starting families. And there I was, feeling like I was stuck in first gear. I felt this immense pressure, mostly from myself, to do something drastic, something that screamed, “Hey, I’m here! I’m making moves!”
So, what was my grand plan? I got it into my head that I needed to completely reinvent myself. I was this close to selling off a bunch of my stuff, packing a couple of bags, and moving to some tiny, far-flung town I’d only seen on the internet. The idea was to start some kind of artisanal business – something I had absolutely zero experience in. Woodworking, maybe, or pottery. Doesn’t even matter. It was less about the craft and more about the escape, about making a statement so big no one could ignore it. It felt, in my head, like getting a full back tattoo of a life I hadn’t earned or even really understood.
- I actually started looking at ridiculously remote properties online.
- I vaguely mentioned it to a couple of friends. One thought I was brave, the other probably thought I’d lost my marbles.
- The whole idea consumed me for a good few weeks. It was my secret, bold move.
Then Came the Reality Check
One evening, I was sitting in my apartment, surrounded by half-hearted packing attempts. I picked up this old guitar I’ve had since I was a teenager, hadn’t played it in ages. And it just hit me. Like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t trying to build a new life; I was trying to run away from the one I had, and I was looking for an external fix – this grand, dramatic gesture – to solve an internal problem. It was like thinking a new, giant tattoo would magically change who you are deep down.
I put the guitar down. I stopped the packing. It was a tough pill to swallow, admitting I was on the wrong track, and that the ‘grand gesture’ was mostly about ego and fear, not genuine passion for this imaginary new life.
Instead, I decided to face things where I was. It wasn’t dramatic. I started small. I enrolled in a night class for something I’d always been curious about. I started saying yes to small opportunities at my then-current job, things I’d previously dismissed. Slowly, very slowly, things started to shift. No big, sudden transformation. Just steady, quiet progress.
So, when I see stuff like Zion’s tattoo, yeah, it’s bold. It’s a commitment. And good for him, it’s his journey. But for me, it’s also a quiet reminder of that period in my life. It reminds me that sometimes the most significant changes don’t come with a huge announcement or a visible mark. Sometimes, the best moves are the ones you don’t make, the ones you pull back from just in time. I’m pretty glad I didn’t get that metaphorical “life tattoo” back then. Dodged a bullet, for sure. The cover-up would have been a nightmare.
