My story

The idea for this website came to me at the end of my sophomore year of college. I had recently been dumped and I was lying in bed. My white cotton pillow became a tapestry of water color mascara marks. My navy and turquoise blanket collected my overwhelming body heat as I curled up in the fetal position. My cheeks were crimson and screaming for relief. It was growing; I was becoming salt and fire. Desperate for air. Burning and crystallizing the world around me. Trapped in my bed. Trapped in my head. I needed to do something right in that moment to feel better. I wanted to take myself out of the inferno. I wanted to cut myself.

It wouldn’t have been the first time--I have a history of self-harm. Meaning, at times, I have a desire to hurt myself when I am in an intense emotional state. I think some of us are just wired to want to hurt ourselves. It’s not taught. It’s not something that’s even talked about. And yet a lot of us do it. 

The sad thing is, even though self-harm is common, we feel so alone in it. We feel like we have failed at handling our emotions in a mature, healthy way. And we think we can’t tell anyone because they would never understand. 

After my relationship had ended, I was sick of feeling that way. I was tired of feeling alone in my issues. I was tired of cutting. I was just tired. I needed help.

I sought out counseling at my college with a professional whom I trusted and respected. When I told her I cut, there was no judgement, anger, or disappointment. I was just a person with a problem and she was there to help.

Later that week when I got upset, I tried out some coping mechanisms my counselor suggested. Admittedly, I felt a little better, but my heart just wasn’t in it. Still, I was committed to improving my well-being. 

So it was at that moment, in my bed—in that endless fire, where I wanted to cut but knew I couldn’t—that I had to choose another method. Another way to deal with my problems. I had to make my emotions feel real, like they were a physical part of me that I could see and feel and touch and hold. My emotions were more than just some chemicals in my brain, right? 

Yes, my emotions were real and I needed to show it somehow. In a heat of passion, I started writing my thoughts out on my legs--my favorite body part to cut. I wrote about how sad I was. And about how one day I would feel better again. Everything that was in my head went on my legs. Seeing all those words on me was even more shocking and adrenaline producing than any cut I ever gave myself. Not only was it helpful, but I realized it was beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever created. I took this picture to remember it by.

That was the day I discovered an alternative method to self-harm. I knew that if it worked for me, it could work for other people. I also knew that if I was open about my issues, it would allow other people to be open about theirs.

That is why I choose ink. 

I encourage you to contribute to the art gallery, read my blog, and connect with me. Let's make this project into something incredible.