My First Tattoo; At 43 Years Old
Here is my first tattoo. It’s colorful, it’s huge, it’s permanent. For a self proclaimed introvert, this is a huge public announcement that I think is going to generate a lot of conversation.
What do you think? What do you see first? Why do you think I got it at 43 years old? Hopefully, you think it’s pretty neat, I do.
I’m hoping that one of the first things you see is the wing, with a strange tear in it. That tear is supposed to be a semicolon, a representation of life continuing after choosing not to commit suicide.
This tattoo is a representation of my middle daughter (14 years old), who’s been quietly fighting depression and anxiety for quite some time. This fight has been consuming her to the point that she felt her only way out is suicide; she did not have a chance to act.
Luckily, I have a daughter that will open up to doctors. She mentioned having suicidal thoughts in a private consultation with her pediatrician. This pediatrician immediately had her sent to the local ER and we ended up following an ambulance to a local “mental” facility. She spent a week there and was released after being put on medicines.
Fast forward just about a year, after many medicine changes, constant suicide watch, having sharps and dangerous objects locked away, another stint in a different hospital, and many sleepless and weepy nights, the cutting, the psychotic episodes of seeing/hearing people, being eaten by zombies, social aspects of life that have been interrupted and altered, the pandemic.-
Now a new diagnosis, Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia; a condition where the adrenal glands do not produce the correct amount of hormones. Her hormones are out of whack. Treatment for this condition, at her age, consists of learning to deal with your hormones, or take medicines that shut down your adrenal glands and manages the hormones for you. This is not without issues either. If she gets sick, then we have to catch it and up her medications so she has the right hormone levels to fight the illness. This is part of the function of the adrenal glands.
Overall, with the new diagnosis, she is in a better place. Sharps and dangerous objects are still locked up, but, we’re giving her time by herself at home while we make quick trips to the grocery store. Our trust in her is gaining each day. We are starting to talk to her more with a purpose of learning and growth, rather than trying to make sure to talk to her in a way that can’t be taken negatively as to not cause a spiral. She is able to spend time by herself and come see us and have a smile on her face. Things are looking better, but, it’s still a long road to travel.
That brings us to today, where we stand… me with a new tattoo… willing to open up and have conversations with anyone that sees it, willing to have tough conversations with parents about mental health issues and how important they are, willing to have tough conversations with kids asking why I have a dragon on my arm and why it’s wing is broken and scarred.
With each of these conversations, I will close with some words about how my dragon has tear in it’s wing and how there is healing at the end of everything. Just like the dragon, my daughter is healing.
