Every time I go through a depressive episode, I have an intense urge to permanently alter my body with tattoos. Perhaps it is the feeling of permanence on such a fleeting, impermanent vessel. Perhaps I'm looking for a way to ground myself in this life. More likely it is that need to feel control over my body. People with depression are often likely to make a drastic change when faced with a down wave, like chopping off their hair, which I have certainly tried before. I personally am a big fan of using tattoos to empower myself against my mental illness.
One of the most overpowering depressive episodes of my life came in the first semester of my senior year of college. It was the longest and most enduring bout of depression I had ever faced. I always considered myself a "high-functioning depressive," always powering through the worst of it. But my life came to a grinding halt in September 2018. No longer exuberant, I struggled to drag myself out of bed and didn't want to talk to my friends. I didn't have the energy to go to class, to participate in my sorority, to wash my hair. I barely had the energy to be alive, to be frank. I was consumed with thoughts of death and decay, obssively Googling suicide methods and attempting to talk myself out of the idea. It was the lowest I had been in more than a year, and it wouldn't go away.
Depression is fun because even though you logically know that you very much do want to be alive, your depressed brain is often much more convincing. When I am in my right mind, I am thankful for my life. I am grateful that I overcame so much trauma to live longer than I ever thought I would. I desperately looked for a way to pull myself out of what seemed like an endless slog.
A little more than a year earlier, in another depressive episode (they seem to always hit me in September, which is... interesting) I poured over Rupi Kaur's new book the sun and her flowers. One poem stuck out to me in particular.
The idea that "healing is everyday work" really stayed with me. Every time that I was convinced it was time to give up, I forced myself to remember how hard I had worked on my healing thus far. It wouldn't be like this forever, and I had to remember that I had survived through much worse before. Healing doesn't just "finish," especially if you have a chronic mental illness that essentially attacks you from the inside. I'll never be done with depression. I have to work to heal every single day from here on out. I wanted to have a constant reminder of that.
In an intoxicating mix of impulsivity and the blind support of sisters, I got that tattoo while in Indiana for my cousin's wedding. I suggested to my sisters that we go wild and get tattoos, and since we are a very suggestible group and they wanted an excuse to get tattoos, we all went to a tattoo shop in Indianapolis the morning before the reception.
We did not tell our parents, and we all left with the permanent (non-matching) memory on our bodies. They made me go first. The resultant feeling was one of surging empowerment. I might not be better yet, but dammit, I was going to commit to getting better all the time.
In a way, the tattoo was a promise to myself. I was not going to kill myself. It would be extremely ironic if I was found dead in some backwater motel room with a tattoo about emotional healing. It gave me a swell of motivation that forced me through the next few months. I don't care if quote tattoos are "cheesy" or that every other white woman who gets a tattoo in her 20s puts it on her ribs. It's a lasting vow that I am working very hard on keeping.
Now, as I attempt not to succumb to a deep, post-graduation depression, I am fixated on the idea of getting another one. If I had unlimited money, there would be a series of mantras running down my ribs. But while I do love my tattoo, I wish I could see it easier. I think it is a good idea to not ink visible skin until you are certain that it won't impact your career or life goals. But that stigma is fading. And though it is a reminder to myself, it's not like I can glance down at it as a reminder. I'm only able to see it if I'm topless or just happen to have a dress with strategic cutouts.
But while I just want to cover my wrists and forearms with endless ink, I know myself, and I know that I am very flighty. I didn't want to get a super visible tattoo if I was going to hate it. I also tend to dream up tattoo ideas when I am at a terrible place in my life, so I want to make sure that I still like it when I am out of that place. If I was tattooed every time I had that impulse, I would have a litany of depressing quotes, like "beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses" by Fitzgerald, or "The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry, I cannot see – but darkness, death and darkness," from Keats' Hyperion.
I chose Inkbox to test out my idea, which has proved to be a semi-success. The idea is solid, but my execution of it was... flawed, to say the least.
The idea comes from a sketch in my journal of flowers sprouting out of a ribcage. It says something about entropy and growth that fascinates me. And in my head it symbolizes growing beauty coming out of pain. I got a precut ribcage from Inkbox, called "Inhala" and added the flowers myself with their freehand ink. And while my execution is very poor-- I have shaky hands and never should have been trusted to draw, plus I smudged it the moment I put on my seatbelt in my car-- I'm vibing hard with the idea. Inkbox supposedly stays on for about two weeks, so we will see if staring at this for two weeks will convince me whether or not it should be permanent. If this was permanent, I would want to smaller and more detailed. But I'm getting a chance to try it, and that's what I appreciate. I'd much rather spend the money on the ink that will fade if I hate it than shell out a large sum of money for something I regret.
Maybe I'll check back in two weeks to see if this should be a permanent addition. Opinions should be postmarked and sent to me directly at 100 Charming Avenue. Virtual comments will not be considered. If your opinion is strong enough to put in the mail, then and only then will I trust you.
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