In defense of changing your mind

The realization that I needed to get rid of the butterfly tattoo on my wrist was a sudden one.

I was taking the subway home from the Lower East Side on a Sunday in September when it hit me. I simply could not have this tattoo on my wrist for even one second longer.

The realization was so strong and the clarity so salient that I got off the subway immediately. I wasn’t even close to my stop. I called a tattoo removal place nearby while still in the station to see if they could let me walk in.

Nothing had happened that day that brought this to a head. I’ve had the tattoo for four years and the thought of getting rid of it had always been a passive one. A non-urgent but nice-to-have item on my too long to-do list, something I had considered before wedding photos but didn’t feel too strongly about. Something I wanted to do but didn’t have a timeline around.

But at that moment, I got very clear. The person I was going to be in New York City did not have that tattoo on their wrist.

I didn’t want it. Not one bit.

The removal studio was completely booked up (it was 2pm at that point) so I got back on the subway and, as my train car pulled out to whisk me back to the Upper East Side, I bought a 5-pack of tattoo removal sessions on Groupon for a place that looked decently okay.

Now, how did I end up with a tattoo on my wrist that I no longer wanted?

I had wanted a tiny “joy” tattoo on my inner arm in homage to my life’s purpose of being a joy soldier (a tattoo I had thought long about and still love to this day!) and the tattoo artist said I could have another one for free. At my core, I am a midwestern girl who loves a freebie, so I said yes. I should have said no. Anyone who knows me well knows that an impulsive tattoo is NOT on brand.

But I said yes and got that tiny butterfly on my wrist four years ago when I had just moved to Barcelona as a reminder of how I felt in New York City, which, as my yoga teacher had so eloquently put it, felt like being a screaming caterpillar. The tattoo was a reminder and a vow to myself to not move back to New York City. It reflected the moment I was in, when I imagined my future life living in Barcelona forever with my tiny tattoos.

So, sitting there that day, two months after moving back to New York City, with my broken promise permanently inked on my body, I felt like a liar. And one thing about me is that I tell the truth.

The next day I began the arduous and expensive process of telling the truth. I got the first zap of my tiny tattoo and was horrified to see that it did basically nothing. (Did you know removing a tattoo can take years?!)

There’s a lesson here about free things. Nothing is ever free. I will spend $700 or so to get this thing removed, blistering and suffering in the process.

There’s also a lesson about getting into things. It’s always harder to get out of something than to get into it.

But the most important lesson to me is that it’s okay to change your mind.

I have changed my mind about many things. Butterfly tattoos. Living in New York City. Loving Christmas. (I used to be such a Scrooge). Veganism. Dyeing my hair.

Even watching TV. I used to be a TV hater and acted all pretentious and morally superior because I only read books. Guys, TV is amazing. I was wrong.

I have come to wholeheartedly embrace my identity as someone who changes their mind. With more information, I often have a different view. I am not afraid to be wrong.

Accepting this about myself has allowed me to conjure compassion for the younger version of myself who didn’t have the information I have today. She made the best decision she could with the information she had at the time. That decision could have been right for that moment and wrong for the next.

And that’s okay.

The younger version of me who wanted that butterfly tattoo, who thought the very best thing they could do for themselves was to not live in New York City because they didn’t know how to hold a boundary or find a balance—I can love that version of myself and also admit that I was wrong.

I used to be embarrassed about changing my mind. I thought that that made me weak-willed or flaky. I wouldn’t have dared to admit when I was wrong. But now I’m learning to see the nuance.

There is a difference between giving up without trying and choosing to stop something because you’ve gathered enough information to decide that it’s not right. I let myself be guided by my intuition and when there is a screaming loud signal in my gut that something is wrong, I trust myself. I trust myself enough to change course.

Now, this can get dicey when my gut tells me something one month and something completely different a few months later.

I’ve found the key to not feeling overwhelmed by constant change is to get clear on what is consistent. What are my morals? What are my values? At the heart of my soul, who am I? And that way, even if I change my hair color and move countries, I am anchored by what stays the same.

I also try to outline what I believe to be true. This brings to light the assumptions I’m making, which may or may not be right. Sometimes the assumptions are wrong. I’m okay being wrong. I know that making a bad decision doesn’t make me a bad person. And I can extend that grace to the people around me as well.

Now that I know I can change my mind, I hold my life more lightly. I look back at things I did when I was younger with the utmost compassion. I was doing the best I could at the time. I can do better now because I know more.

The evening after my first tattoo removal session, I had a dinner with a fantastic group of female founders hosted by a woman I had long-admired and honestly couldn’t believe had invited me.

I didn’t want them to see my tattoo. It didn’t feel like me anymore.

The irony is that my urgency to get the tattoo removed that day meant that I showed up to the dinner with a huge bandage on my wrist. In retrospect, it probably drew a lot more attention to the tattoo than just wearing a long-sleeve shirt.

But I wasn’t embarrassed. I was actually proud. Whenever someone asked about the tattoo, I told them the truth.

I changed my mind.