Why I Chose To Get A Tattoo Over My Self-Harm Scars

Hey there, and welcome to Life, Unfiltered. 

Today’s post is going to be a little different. I normally try to write lighthearted content, but as I’m scheduling another appointment to extend my tattoo so it will cover all of my scars, I’ve been reflecting on the healing and transformation that I’ve undergone since I quit self-harm for good.

I understand that self-harm and self-injury are sensitive and potentially triggering topics, so please feel free to simply skip this post and visit my blog page for my regular content!

To get right into the story, I was nine years old when I first decided to try self-harming. I didn’t understand what I was doing at the time, nor did I comprehend the lifelong consequences that would follow, but I did it anyway because in my confused, distraught mindset, I thought it helped.

I’ve struggled with depression for years and only recently have I taken the leap to begin treating my mental illness. And it’s been a long, rocky path towards recovering, but I’ve made so much progress these past few years and I couldn’t be more proud of my newfound resilience and strength.

But eight agonizing years of self-harm are still permanently etched into my body, and there is really no escaping it. My mom encouraged me to try laser scar removal, but I was afraid that if I reduced the appearance of the scars, I would just see the renewed skin as more space to destroy all over again. I am absolutely not ashamed of my scars, but they were a reminder of all the suffering I'd put myself through. I was over constantly having to look at the damage I’d done to my body. I knew I needed a change.

A few months before my eighteenth birthday, I began researching tattoo shops in my area and the week I finally turned eighteen, I made the call to schedule an appointment with an artist who was willing to work with me in covering my scars.

About a month later, I spent an hour and a half in the chair, chatting with my artist and my friend who came along to support me. For the sake of privacy and safety, I will not be sharing a picture or description of my tattoo or the name of my artist, but I will say that she did an absolutely incredible job, and I am eternally grateful to her for giving me such beautiful art.

Of course, the scars are not gone. I can still see them underneath the ink. I feel them when I run my fingers over the bold lines of my art. But I finally feel like I’ve won. I feel like I’ve reclaimed my body from all those years of destruction, and I feel like I’m no longer chained down or limited by self-harm. I can move on now.

I used to look down at my thigh and my hip and be forced to reflect on all the damage I’ve done to myself, all the pain and despair that I felt for all those years. But now I get to look down and see art that I love, and I get to smile and think of the moment I got to share with one of my closest friends and my artist, I get to remember the pride I felt when I realized I survived, I made it to my eighteenth birthday and I was finally okay.

Just in time for my nineteenth birthday, I’ll be extending my piece so it climbs all the way up my hip and covers all the rest of the scars in that area. I feel such immense pride at having made it so far, and I’m so excited for my art to reflect the metamorphosis I’ve experienced throughout this past year.

Now, life has not been all peaches and cream, and I was never expecting it to be. It’s still a constant battle just to live and frankly, happiness is a perk that comes some days and is nowhere to be seen on other days. But at least I know now that I can survive, and I am capable of finding happiness. Sometimes, living is hard. I just have to get through each hour and each day and eventually those days turn into months and those months soon turn into years.

Healing is a journey. And I know now that I’m strong enough to push through.

If you’re struggling with your mental health, please get help. You are loved and you are so, so worth it <3

National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline: Call 988

You matter,

Alexandra