We’re living in a world where tattoos are becoming more and more popular. We’re in this sort of limbo state where they’re either accepted, or they’re not. There is no in between. Which makes things a bit difficult. Some companies will accept you with your tattoos, while others will make you cover them up or not hire you. Acceptance isn’t something people should search for, but, unfortunately, that’s something we’re still fighting for.
I have two tattoos myself. The first I got when I was 18 with my mom. It was my Mother’s Day present to her. We got matching infinity signs on our feet with Mickey and Minnie Mouse detailed into it. They’re simple, they’re not identical, but something the two of us have. We both designed our tattoos so, they were one of a kind, just like our relationship
The second tattoo is the one I’ve gotten the most heat about. The placement is obvious and is difficult to cover up, but the placement was chosen for a reason. On the inside of my left wrist is an open semicolon with the quote “this too shall pass” in script along the side. It’s not the conventional tattoo, as I chose the colors blue and purple for it. I always get questions as to why I’ve gotten this tattoo, why I would want to ‘degrade’ my body with this writing symbol, and I’ve always found it difficult to tell people why. So here’s why.
I noticed when I was 14 years old that my thoughts weren’t like others. I didn’t have happy, cheerful thoughts flowing through my mind. They were dark, and they were unwanted by me. But I didn’t know how to stop them. These thoughts convinced me that I was worthless, that I’m nothing. That, if I were to die, no one would miss me. These thoughts consumed my days, and the only time I wasn’t reminded of these were in three instances; playing soccer, singing and being at Disney.
All throughout school I was bullied. I was told I wasn’t pretty, too fat, that I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t have a lot of friends (but the few I did have I loved with all my heart), I never had boyfriends, very few people talked to me, and all of this was normal. I thought everyone dealt with that. But I would walk through the hallways and I would see people bouncing from group to group and holding conversations with each. Girls would approach each other and tell the other how beautiful they were or how cute their outfit was. And then there was me. I went from class to class, said hello to a few people and then I would go home.
During my junior year in high school, I took psychology and learned about depression. There were multiple different forms of depression, but I related to them. I was always scared to tell someone, so I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone that I thought I had depression, that I couldn’t remember the last time I had genuinely laughed at something. That smiling was a chore for me, but I did it because I didn’t want my family to worry something was wrong. I wanted them to think that I was happy and that I was alright. I knew I wasn’t, though, and I didn’t know how to tell anyone.
Then I went to college, a place where I thought I would have a fresh start and everything would be okay. It wasn’t okay, though, and the bullying continued. I made a group of friends that I thought I would be with for the rest of my life. Then I joined a sorority, which made me believe I had a huge group of friends for the first time. Then my friends stopped talking to me. They would close the door whenever I walked by, they would leave the room if I entered, and all those thoughts that started when I was 14 hit me like a freight train. I spoke to my RA about it and she suggested I went to a counseling session, just to talk to someone.
That first counseling session lasted a full hour, and it consisted of me delving into my deepest thoughts and a lot of crying. After this meeting, it was suggested I attended weekly counseling sessions. I didn’t tell my sisters because I didn’t know what they would think and I had just joined the sorority and I didn’t want them to think I was weird. I told my family that I was going solely because of these girls on my dorm floor. I knew I was going for a very different reason.
My counselor, after a few sessions told me that she believed I suffered from depression and anxiety. She told me she could recommend me to a therapist, but, like every other time in my life, I was embarrassed and told her no. I finished out the semester, and then I never went back to those counseling sessions. I knew I had to figure something out with the depression I had finally been diagnosed with. I knew I couldn’t let it consume me any longer, but I wasn’t sure how to do so.
I heard about the semi-colon project my third semester of college. One of my sisters, and very close friend, told me about how she wanted to get a tattoo of the semi-colon and why. When she told me about it, I knew I had to look into it, and so I did. And for a year, I spent my time researching the project, as well as semi-colons in general, and I knew I wanted a tattoo of it as well. I knew this was my way of not letting my depression consume me.
During the summer of 2015 I went into my tattoo artists’ parlor and told him and his wife about the tattoo I wanted. It started with me wanting the word Warrior with the semi-colon replacing the ‘i’. They both said that was a great idea, but Tiffany had tattooed it on four other clients the week before. So I agreed with them that it wasn’t original enough. Both John and Tiffany decided to draw up some ideas, and at my appointment we would decide the design, color and placement.
I spent the next few weeks thinking about where I wanted this tattoo. I knew I wanted it somewhere for me to be able to see it clearly, but did I want it on my wrist? Did I want it in a place that was so visible that, not only myself, but everyone around me would see it? Was I really ready for the question of why I had it and what it meant? Was I ready to tell people about my depression? All those questions were answered when I went camping with my family for the 4th of July.
We were sitting around the camp fire and my aunt was telling us how my 13 year old cousin had been having suicidal thoughts, and that he had gone to her, worried. It was difficult to hear, but in that moment, I knew I couldn’t hide my depression any longer. I told my aunt and my grandma about my battle with depression, and I told them about the suicidal thoughts I had had. I told them that my cousin wasn’t alone, and that if he needed it, I was there to listen. In that moment, I knew everything I wanted with this tattoo.
On August 15th, 2015, I went to John for my tattoo appointment, and I laid it all out for him. I wanted the tattoo on my wrist, so that it was a daily reminder for me. I would see it whenever I was having a difficult time, and I knew that I’ve made it this far, so I can make it all the way. I wanted the quote ‘this too shall pass’ to be incorporated somehow, to remind myself that, through the good and the bad, the moment won’t last forever, and that I need to stay humble and remember that everything passes.
John showed me the few drawings he had, and I chose the one that looked like water, because water, no matter where it is, continues to move. Water is always changing, and the world is always changing, so I can’t dwell on one thing (hence the blue of my tattoo).
Ever since that day, I’ve never regretted my tattoo. I’ve never regretted the placement or the quote or the colors, because I know that each was chosen to represent something that will help me.
So on this day, a year after I’ve received my tattoo, I’m here to tell you this. It’s going to be okay. I know it seems hard, and I know people are mean. Trust me, I know. But this moment, the sadness that is taking over your thoughts, the darkness that is taking over your mind, it’ll only last a moment. It’ll seem like a very long, very very dark moment, but it won’t last forever. Something will happen to turn it around. I promise you, this too shall pass. Don’t give up.
