My Rose;

tattoo coverup

mental health awarenessRemember the good old semicolon tattoo I got back in July 2015?

Well, it’s gone.

Don’t worry, you guys — it’s not like I’m not aware that I’m still mentally ill.  I didn’t wake up yesterday morning and imagine that part of me away or anything.

It’ll probably always be there with me [because science, and also, poetic metaphor?], and it’ll always play some type of a role in who I am and who I end up becoming.

However, my game plan is to ensure that I always find a way for this painful [and honestly irritating] affliction of mine to contribute my self-betterment.

I mean, why shouldn’t it?  It’s turned me into someone who fights my butt off every single day of my life — battling my inner demons has become as natural to me as breathing.  That totally sucks in retrospect, but someday, I’m going to be so freaking strong for it!

I’d consider that a silver lining if I wasn’t such a rose gold loving lady myself. #RoseGoldTrash

But anyways — yes, I’m still proud of myself for pushing forward and always being my own knight in shining armor.  Just because that semicolon is now [very skillfully] covered up (still, shoutout to New Breed Tattoos for giving me the splendid semicolon tattoo that stayed with me for three insane years of my life — my cover-up had everything to do with me craving a different, non-semicolon tattoo, and absolutely nothing to do with the high quality of your guys’ absolutely amazing work), doesn’t mean it’ll ever truly be erased from my person.

It’s still there [even if it’s buried under a ridiculous amount of ink].  It’ll always be there.

Continue reading “My Rose;”

My Semicolon (From July 1, 2015)

semicolon tattoo
This piece was written on July 1, 2015, immediately after having my “semicolon” tattoo done; it was published on this website on July 16, 2018.

I remember writing down several ways by which to kill myself when I was only fourteen years old. Included on the list was slashing open my arms until they were bleeding beyond repair, drowning myself, and jumping from a place of extremely high elevation so that I had no chance of survival. The more painful the option, the more appealing it felt for me. I was so hopeless that I wanted to feel every bit of pain within me before I left this Earth forever.
semicolon tattoo

When I first found out that I had bipolar disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder, my first instinct was to hide it from everyone except for a few select people. I felt embarrassed about my mood swings, my depression, and my suicidal thoughts. I despised the way I could go from feeling the best I had ever felt to feeling like I had no will to live in just minutes.

Continue reading “My Semicolon (From July 1, 2015)”