Here’s my tattoo. It was hard to take a picture without somehow stretching it, but it’s like spot on when it comes to the handwriting.
I was adopted when I was born, an hour after birth. Before I was born, my birth mother struggled with bipolar disorder and extreme depression. She attempted suicide as well. However, she got back on her feet before having me. Last December, my adoptive mother gave me all the paperwork from my adoption that was filled out, including a survey. When it came to listing her achievements, there was only one: “I’m still alive - and fairly happy!”
I got her biggest achievement tattooed on my ribcage for so many reasons. For one, if she had killed herself, I wouldn’t be here. Also she beat her depression and learned that happiness was the best thing life had to offer. Occasionally, I get sad about such small, petty things, but I realize that happy truly is the only way to be. So when I’m upset I turn to my own mother’s words, and realize that things can suck temporarily, but “I’m still alive.”