An untold story: my tattoo

I don't know if you've noticed the cross tattooed on my wrist, but I want to share the story behind it because it has meaning... deep, personal meaning. 

I got this tattoo the summer before my junior year of college. I had always wanted a tattoo, but wanted something that had meaning. Why the cross? Why my wrist? Well, I must go back a bit in my life to tell you. I had struggled with depression for a long time. It started in 6th grade for many reasons. I struggled with my feelings towards my dad because of my parents divorce and because he wasn't a huge part of my life. I had lost a friend years before and my best friend had just moved that summer. I also had my first heartbreak...whatever that may look like for a little girl. All these things were really hard for me to deal with at such a young age. I often found myself lying in the bottom of the bunk bed my sister and I shared... just crying. 

My depression only got worse as I got older.  I got into relationships I shouldn't have, that caused great harm. I struggled with relationships in my family. I look back on it now and there are times that I wonder what was really wrong with me. I didn't understand my depression - why was I so depressed? It was really awful.

 I started cutting myself in 6th grade and it only got worse as I got older. I didn't know how to deal with my emotions, so I did the only thing I felt I could do and that was take a razor blade to my wrist. This caused a lot of pain to a lot of people. I continued to do this to myself in college... even though I had people to talk to. 

One day I just woke up and was sick of it all. I didn't want to cut myself anymore. It was getting me nowhere. I had to make the choice to stop. Was it easy? No, because sometimes I really wanted to do it, sometimes I would go into the bathroom and hold it to my wrist and sometimes I'd fail. But I decided I was done with it... that I was really going to beat this problem.

That is where this cross comes into play. I got it put on my left wrist because thats the one I cut. No, I don't have huge gashes or huge scars, which I am thankful for. I am thankful that I would only cut through the top layer...that I didn't go any deeper. I knew a cross was the right choice because whenever I felt the need to cut I could look at it and remember that I do have someone there for me.

God is there. He always has been and always will be. 

He understood my depression and what caused it.

He understood what I didn't.

He made me realize hurting myself wasn't the way. 

He is the way though... the way to healing.

I'm so thankful for that. I'm so thankful that God helped me through the hard times.

God is so good!