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Trei Harris

I was diagnosed with suicidal tendencies back in 2016.  Just last year I found out my mother also suffers from the same thing on her 50th birthday. It was probably the most unorthodox bonding moment I’ve ever had with her.  She apologized as if to assume that this mental illness is hereditary. I don’t know if it is. I know it sucks, and that it will probably linger around with me for the rest of my life. 


People sometimes ask what’s the worst part about it, I genuinely believe it’s different for everyone who has it. For me I think it’s only as bad as it is because I refuse to medicate. Addiction runs deep in my family, and already with my current lifestyle I tend to walk a fine line. The episode themselves seem to usually take place after escaping or letting go of a toxic situation ie Jobs, friendships, or even most recent relationships. The constant voice in my head that prevents me from being grateful and happy with my situation is usually what leads to what I can only assume to be toxic thoughts. Then swallows me whole to a point where I see no light at the end of the tunnel, no chance for air to breathe, it’s just me in limbo being brought deeper into the darkness. 


Christmas Eve of 2020 was one of my most recent dark episodes. I spent about a month and a half off of social media, was getting over a toxic relationship and just overall hadn’t felt that alone ever in my life. I was beginning to cross the feelings of being alone and the physical act of being alone. Two very nuanced things my grandmothers told me to never cross. I remembered the summer prior not to mention all of the times I’ve been on the table since I was 16. I get asked from time to time why I have no scars if I’m a suicide risk/survivor. Through immense amounts of meditation and deep set reflection, I realized my way of getting over things was through this pain I felt relief from.. tattooing. If I were to remove the ink from my entire body you would be left with scar imagery. It’s beautiful in so many ways but can come off disturbing for the weak stomached. 


I’ve always had vices, ways of suppressing or forgetting about the voice in my head. The negative thoughts of not wanting to be here. From cycling to cooking. there just never was a full release of the pain and anguish I was truly feeling. 


Of course I’m not saying that getting tattoos is or should be everyone’s way of getting over loss or heartbreak. However it is one outlet that has helped me kind of accept the past for what it is and move forward. Of course I know by the time I fill my entire body (and that is the goal) I may run out of real estate. But I think that’s also why I picked up tattooing as a hobby. To maybe help those who seek the same pain therapy express and tell their story. 


I’m not sure what the future holds for me on a day to day basis. As I said I generally have these dark thoughts lingering throughout my day to day. I mean if I’m being honest I didn’t even think I would live past today about three weeks ago. I had a stern plan in my head to just end it all June 22nd 2021. The last time I fell in love was exactly today two years ago. I promised myself it would be the last time I would feel these emotions. But this past weekend and all of the interactions I shared have once again shown me that there are still reasons to keep going. 


Dealing with suicidal tenancies has made life a little more sensitive, it’s definitely provided more of an outlook on mental health and the dangers of it if it’s never treated. I’m grateful for my therapist and out twice a week sessions. I’m grateful for my plants, my family and music. But I’m mostly grateful for the canvas the universe has provided me to tell a story with.