Your soul

My “Basic White Girl” Tattoo Is About A Suicide Attempt

By November 20, 2015 1
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When you look at the list of “2o Most Basic Tattoos White Girls Love!,” mine (a white infinity sign with the word “LIFE” entwined in it) is #3.

And that really, really pisses me off.

When I was a junior in college, I tried to kill myself. I don’t think I tried very hard, and I don’t think I actually wanted to die—they were horizontal cuts, not vertical ones—but nevertheless, for 8 months when I was 20 years old, I was considered “at risk for self harm.”

I had just gone through a horrible breakup with my boyfriend of six years, and two weeks later we got into a very public, very mean fight. Drunk and upset, I came home and tried to slice open my wrists with a pair of nail scissors.

The details of what happened, though, aren’t really what are important. What’s important is how little I’ve thought of that day ever since.

Of course, there was a period of “recovery” (which always seemed like a weird word to explain what I went through. Sure, it took some time and a LOT of work on myself, but it wasn’t as if I had some illness) that consisted of months and months of therapy, AA meetings and differing combinations of anti-anxities, anti-depressants and anti-psychotics. I argued constantly with my family, my friends and my doctors, all of whom didn’t believe that I would be able to “get through it” (another stupid cliché that was applied to my case) without being locked up in some sort of a mental hospital.

Obviously, I got through it— I’m 24, happy as hell, and have survived a lot of breakups since then — but the first time I really felt like I was out of the woods, I wanted to do something to commemorate it.

So, I got a tattoo. On my left wrist. In the exact place I’d made the cuts that sent me to the psych ward.

At that point, the scars were still visible, and I didn’t know if they were ever going to go away. I wanted to cover them up with ink so that I’d never have to look at them again.

But it was more than that. My tattoo, which I’ll have forever, is a constant reminder of what I did, and a promise to myself that I will NEVER do it again.

It’s white, so it’s actually pretty much invisible. But the point was never for other people to see it; the point was that it was for me. Some days, even I forget it’s there, until I need it to help me feel strong.

So, actually, I hate to break it to you Buzzfeed, but it’s anything BUT basic. It’s special, it’s unique, and it’s mine.