Break the Silence

Two weeks before I took this phot, I got my first tattoo in over 11 years. I'd been thinking about new ink for a while, and already have three ideas queued...
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Two weeks before I took this phot, I got my first tattoo in over 11 years. I'd been thinking about new ink for a while, and already have three ideas queued up. But I'd also been considering a semicolon tattoo because of my history. I spent a lot of time thinking about where I would get it, if I did. And it finally occurred to me. I would get it on the web of my right hand.

For those unfamiliar with the semicolon tattoo, it has taken hold with those struggling with depression and suicide as a reminder to continue. In the literary sense, a semicolon is used where an author could end a sentence, but chooses to tie two thoughts together and continue. Likewise, those of us who have been down the spiral could have ended our lives, but chose to continue. While I no longer suffer from depression, it remains near and dear to me.

First and foremost, the location serves as a reminder to myself. This is the hand that held the gun; this hand unloaded it.

But secondly, and honestly the larger driving factor, is that I want it to be seen. I work with my hands a lot. People will see it. When I meet someone and shake their hand, it's right there for them to see. I want people to ask about it. I want people to be curious. I want to share my story for those who can't or won't share theirs.

As a society, we've stigmatized mental health, and we're only making things worse. Turn on the news, and the first thing you'll hear about the latest crime is whether or not the perpetrator was being treated for mental health. Sitcoms still make jokes about how unmanly it is to discuss feelings and emotions. Billboards, magazines, and movies tell us it's weak to ask for help. Fuck all that. Mental health is not a crime. Emotions are natural and real, and will kill you if left to fester.

I lost my first fiancée to suicide. I lost a friend and shipmate from the navy. I've lost high school acquaintances. And, in 2009, I almost lost myself.

End the stigma. Break the silence. Talk about it. It won't kill you; silence might.
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