Anchor
I once saw a photo of a girl clinging to an anchor. Her facial expression drew me in, and I paused—remembering what I had been through in my life, specifically a period of time where we owned a business and were raising four young kids.
We worked tirelessly but struggled financially, which meant years of living on the bare minimum and experiencing poverty. We had never been wealthy by any means, but we had to make decisions between buying food or paying for vehicle repairs just to get to a job. Life was a daily battle that became even more difficult after losing our home and eventually closing our business. It took years of fighting and barely hanging on.
But I had an anchor. I had an anchor that I held on to, through every single storm, every daily battle to feed my family and make it through.
When I saw this girl, clinging to an anchor, with her hair whipping in the wind from the stormy seas, her face scrunched in despair but hanging on with tenacity and grit—I had to have that tattoo.
Megan made it happen and captured all the emotion that I felt during those years of trial, and the anchor that kept me and brought me to the other side.