The first tattoo I ever wanted was one we’ve all seen. . . birds fading into the distance. . . and I wanted it on my back.
Luckily, I waited a few years (try like 7) to finally get my first tattoo. And of course, it was Harry Potter related.
I’ve talked about it in my previous posts, but for those just joining in, I have experienced depression and suicidal thoughts since about the time I was in 9th grade.
When I was younger I hated reading. I didn’t want anything to do with books. I couldn’t care less why Spot ran, or where on Earth he ran to. Then my parents found this book. . .
They began reading it to me. Looking back, that was probably one of the most important things they did for me. And trust me, they’ve done a LOT. They read Harry Potter to me and I instantly fell in love. I became obsessed, and I mean obsessed, with Harry Potter. I LIVED for those books. Literally. Like, the real meaning of the word literally.
When those suicidal thoughts started to creep up from where they lived in the back of my mind I would think, “I can’t leave yet, I have to read the next Harry Potter book.” or, “I can handle this a little longer, I have to see how they do with the next Harry Potter movie.”
Thinking about it, I really owe my parents my life. Well, I did from the get-go, and for so many other reasons. But if they hadn’t sparked my love of reading and learning, I’m not sure where I would be today.
So thank you. Thank you to my parents. Thank you to J.K. Rowling. Thank you to the creatives of the world that put their dreams out there, no matter how painful it gets.
Does Harry Potter still help me overcome tough times?
After all this time?