What PMU School Is Teaching Me (That I Didn’t Expect)
I came into PMU school thinking I knew how to learn a skill.
I’ve built a life on being efficient, quick, and high-performing. I’m the person who figures things out fast, executes even faster, and gets it done well. Give me a system, and I’ll optimize it. Give me a deadline, and I’ll beat it.
This… has been different.
1. I crave control.
I didn’t fully realize how much until I stepped into this space. I like knowing what to expect, how things will go, and how to get a specific outcome.
2. You can’t control PMU.
Skin is different. Healing is different. Retention is different. Every face, every canvas, every pass of the needle asks you to respond, not control. And that has stretched me in ways I didn’t expect.
3. I’ve been humbled.
I’m used to picking things up quickly. That hasn’t been the case here. This skill is layered, technical, and demands repetition, intention, and patience. I’ve had to work—like really work—for every bit of progress. And honestly? That’s been both frustrating and grounding.
4. I don’t naturally slow down.
Speed has always been my edge. I type 100 WPM with near-perfect accuracy. I’m the go-to person to crank things out quickly and efficiently.
But PMU doesn’t reward speed.
It rewards precision.
Stillness.
Control in the smallest movements.
This work is slow and steady. It’s calculated. It’s intentional. And I’m actively retraining my brain to operate in a completely different way than it has for years.
5. My ADHD diagnosis changed everything.
Getting diagnosed later in life was… unexpected. But stepping back into a classroom made it impossible to ignore.
My focus felt scattered. Sitting still, being fully present, creating quiet in my mind to process—it felt hard. And then it clicked: I’ve spent decades masking it with high-achieving behaviors.
Now, instead of pushing through the same way, I’m choosing something different.
Support. Treatment. Mindfulness. Awareness.
And something I didn’t expect at all…
This work has shown me just how beautiful people are.
When you slow down enough to really look—to study someone’s features, their shape, their balance, the little things that make them them—it’s kind of overwhelming. In the best way.
Being able to focus in on that, to enhance what’s already there, to play even a small role in how someone feels when they look in the mirror… it’s so special. It’s intimate. It’s an honor.
And wow… we are all so uniquely, individually stunning.
I’m having the time of my life.
I’m exhausted. My body hurts. There are moments I feel frustrated, even defeated. But I keep getting back up. I take what I learned that day, I adjust, and I try again.
Over and over.
Because I can feel it—
this is shaping me into something bigger than I expected.
Not just a better artist…
but a more present person.