I'm not strong today.

Last year in May, I got my second tattoo. Now, given that we live in a society where 1 in 4 young people now have tattoos, I guess that's not really that exciting. But it was for me. And that tattoo was particularly important to me.

On May 3rd, 2007, I was 13 years old and made the conscious decision to end my life. I am a suicide survivor of going on 10 years this year. 10. years.

In my sickest twisted humor, after my suicide attempt I started celebrating my birthdays similar to the way the American Cancer Society is a "sponsor" of birthdays.

"I've made it to 16." I'd said.
"18."
"21."
and so on.

Last year was the 9th year of my attempt, and subconsciously it was getting to me. I knew it was the 'anniversary' but I couldn't bring myself to be overly thrilled about it; obviously I should be, I'm alive after all, right?
Since my days of self-injuring with my drug of choice (blades), I had always wanted tattoos. I wanted "strength"somewhere on me. I had contemplated putting it on my wrist because of the vicinity of where my cutting was mostly taking place, and almost again, in a twisted sense of irony, where I needed it most.
So, for years I contemplated it. I thought about it. I thought how if I got it tattooed I'd be so much stronger and I'd be able to swear off cutting for good. I thought this tattoo would be the end-all be-all to my self-injury woes. But I never quite had the "strength" to do it (see what I did there?).

In a major bout of depression in May of last year, I decided on a whim that I was finally going to do it. And as fate would have it, the day I went in to make an appointment, one of the artists I went to talk to had a no-show and offered to do it right then and there.

It was gorgeous. I loved, and still do love it so much.
And for a while it worked. I was still sad on occasion, but I was in therapy with a good therapist, and taking medication, and working really hard to get better. The days where I felt down, I'd often see "Strength" staring right back at me.

But I'm not strong today.

I'm not strong today because I relapsed and ruined the progress I made the moment that blade touched my wrist.
I'm not strong today because I don't want to tell anyone about it.
I'm not strong today because I am tired of reaching out.
I'm not strong today because I want to give up.
I'm not strong today because I feel like there's not enough time, medication or self-loathing pity to get me to feel any different.

And even though I'm not strong today, I'm still here.

I'm strong because I am typing this out instead of keeping myself awake in my thoughts.
I'm strong because I am still going to get up and go to work tomorrow even though I want to call in.
I'm strong because I know I'll feel better soon; even temporarily.
I'm strong because there are people that love me that are helping me get better.
I'm strong enough to admit I need help.
I'm strong because when people ask me about my tattoo, I can tell them exactly what it stands for.

I don't have to be weak, but I can say I'm not strong.
One of Strength's definitions is as follows:
the state or quality of being physically or mentally strong

I've looked at the synonyms for both the words strength and weak and I far more resemble the thesaurus' suggestions for strength than for weak.
So, I'm not strong today, but that's okay.
Because I can be so many other things instead, and weak is not one of them.