{November 8, 2017}   Head Shaving Ritual


Before anyone continues to read this I wanted to write a disclaimer. This was my Ritual, this was personal to me. This was done how I wanted it and it might seem strange to be naked in front of people but there was a purpose to this. This is difficult to publicly share so if you want to judge me that’s fine, its your opinion but please don’t question me as to why I did this the way that I did this. This is my spiritual journey, this is my road to self love and self care and if people being naked offends you then please stop reading right now. There were certain photos that I wanted to include in this but haven’t, so don’t freak out people you won’t see me in the buff if you keep reading.

I thought maybe if I write this now, I might purge some of the negative views going on in my head. I knew before I started this that things inside me would change. I always change from rituals, its why I do them. There is always a period of time that I look at myself and think “What the fuck have I just done?”. That’s what I am now going through.. I haven’t reached the point where I feel empowered and beautiful. I’m finding it hard to leave the house, especially to go to the gym because my worst fear with doing this, is in the forefront of my mind. I feel like I look much bigger than I am because I simply have no hair now.

How did I get to the point of having no hair though?

For years I have wanted to shave my head. I have no clue why but to restart with my hair has always seemed appealing to me. My biggest fear and the reason why I have put it off for so long is because I’m not a small chick, and I would do anything to stop myself from looking any bigger than I am. This year I needed to do some serious soul searching and try and find the parts of me I have lost. This year became about being reborn. From the suspensions I have done, to the work I have put in at the gym, all of this has come down to a single mission. To learn to love myself, to make way for a more positive future. To figure out the things that go wrong in my head and try and make them right again. And during this year I lost myself in a very massive way. I have crawled through a pit of anxiety and had to learn new ways to cope. But if I am to start a family at some point in the future, then I need to sort myself out because how I have been is very toxic. I don’t want to ever bring someone into this world and not be able to say anything good about the way I look because the way we talk about ourselves and others is what shapes their body confidence. My future is important to me, my mental health, His mental health and the affect that I have on Him and those around me.. I have to sort my shit out. Doing this is part of it because I have to face myself in a very real way.

It had been planned for months. The dress, the mirror, the writing, the music.. everything has slowly been ticked off the list. Every element of this ritual was important. Everything had its meaning, everything had its place and all I had to do was enter.

A mirror in the middle of the room with a circle of flicking lights around it on the ground. This was our space, our circle and He was standing there waiting for me. Its my choice to step over and enter, no one will stop me if I turn and run but I don’t. I step over and everything begins. He kisses me and in that moment I forget that there are people around us, no one else matters right now. My dress is taken off, my bra, my underwear. I’m standing there naked and suddenly the writing on my body is revealed. Before we entered that room we snuck away and wrote things on me. The word I wrote was FAT. This word is powerful for me. Its a word that I decided I wouldn’t let control me anymore and so I freely call myself fat because its a good descriptive word. But it can also be very destructive and used as a way to tear myself down. I wrote it across my stomach, the part of my body that I hate the most. He wrote various other things on me, stupid, pig, useless. Words that He doesn’t ever use for me but words I use for myself. To have those words shown to people I love deeply, it cut me.

I sit in front of the mirror and we start. The first part is done with me holding his arm. I wanted that symbology of us doing this together because this was very much about us doing this together. I drop my hand and I am stone faced. I don’t know why but it was hard to show any emotion or expression at that time. I was trying to hold myself together so much that I didn’t want to show everything on my face. There were a few moments of laughter, when I would tell Him not to get too close to my eyebrows, when He purposely dropped hair on my lap knowing that I have a phobia about hair. Soon my hair was gone. And because it was dark it didn’t seem real to me. I run my hands over my scalp and laughed, it was a very cool feeling but still didn’t seem real.

I stand and He wipes the hair from my shoulders, my back, my face. He wipes away the word FAT and I break. I crumble inside as that word is removed from my body. The power it holds over me wiped away. He kisses me, holds me and that single moment completely sums up our relationship. What we are to each other, what we give to each other and how we love each other. It was a moment that was captured and an image that I will cherish for the rest of our lives. I can’t describe what that was but it was simply us.

There is no holding back now. No pretending that this doesn’t affect me. The words on my skin are wiped away and I am left clean and new and whole. He dries me, no water left on my skin because now we need to write new words. Words which empower, words which stay with me now. The music is changed and I write a single word on my chest. WORTHY.. the funny moment about this was that I couldn’t figure out how to do the Y so He had to help. Worthy is an important word to me because so often I feel like I’m not. Like I don’t deserve good things, I don’t deserve love and happiness when the fact is I am so, so worthy of all of those things and more. He writes MINE across my stomach and I let go of what I’m holding back. Again this is a defining moment of who we are and what we are. I am His and it makes me feel whole knowing that, to know that on the days I can’t love myself, He still does. I will always be His and to me that is magic.

The marker is passed to my Girl. The order of who wrote on me was very, very important, She had to be next. She had to be part of this in a big way for me. She wrote a word on me and as She was writing She looked at Her wrist. I had to laugh, She had written it on Herself because it wasn’t in English and She wanted to make sure it was spelt correctly. She wrote PRAGTIG (beautiful). The order after this I am unsure of, the words that They wrote I can only remember some of. It was our close friends first and then whoever else wanted to. They would write on me, tell me what They wrote and kiss me on the cheek. It was intimate and beautiful and some of the things that They wrote, blew me away. I was humbled by the choices and humbled by the sheer love that They had for me.

It all comes to an end and He thanks people. Neither of us really knew how it would end so He simply spoke up. I thought He did very well considering we hadn’t planned that aspect of it. I step out of the circle and I am new and clean and surrounded by love.

The days following and I am still struggling. I knew this would be part of it, because its always part of it for me. In time I will love what I went through and I will accept myself and how I now look. I find the images to be very beautiful, I don’t look at them and hate my body in the way that I used to. My perception of myself has changed because of this but those old fears will take time to pass. I know that they will pass though.

For everyone who was part of our Ritual, Thank You.



Photography by Archibold


I want to start at the end… but then thats always where I want to start. I want to start with how it felt, what it meant, what I saw. I want words to tumble out like they always do and for it somehow to all make a cohesive story that makes sense. But then, my mind doesn’t really make much sense right now, so I will start at the beginning because at least then it might make some sort of story out of images that I’m trying to put into words.

Ah well, here goes nothing.

It was cold. Everyone who was there will know how cold it was. It figures that this last big event and the heater breaks down. I knew I would be in the afternoon so I wasn’t too worried about it. I never like suspending at this time of year because its always so cold though. I watched the days events unfold, I watched each persons journey. I watched their struggle, their determination, I watched them overcome their own fears and restrictions. For some it was only a moment off the ground but how long you are up, really doesn’t matter. Its how you got to that point that matters, its every sensation you feel, every pain and fear and every release of emotion. Getting off the ground, even for a single moment, is something to be celebrated.. going into that hall with just the notion of giving this a go is something to be celebrated. Getting those hooks under your skin, standing there and trying with everything you have, even if you don’t leave this earth, its still something that most people would never even try. I know that I beat myself up when I don’t get off the ground but give me some time afterwards and I know that the fact I even tried, is a big enough accomplishment. It takes time to see that though.

I knew that the day would be emotional for me. I had spent all week wanting to cry for no reason (thanks hormones!), so I knew that it wouldn’t take much to set me off. I was on pins and needles all day. Watching Mischief go up is what really set me off for the day though. It had been so long since she had suspended and so long since I had seen her in this place that it almost instantly brought me to tears. Watching how her and Eden interacted was magic. She didn’t have to say anything, hardly had to move a hand at all and he just knew to put more tension on. It was amazing to watch this connection so vividly. The connection between them really got to me, it was beautiful.  And when she left the ground, everything was peaceful. It was her moment, her happy place and it struck me so hard that I couldn’t help but cry. To see someone that content, that at home in the moment, how she was is why I love this so much. What suspensions do for people is so, so powerful. Unless you do it and see it, I don’t know if people would ever really get the magic behind it all.

I watched more amazing things. I was happy in my bubble watching people. It started getting late in the day and I knew that my anxiety about doing this suspension was only increasing by the minute. It didn’t really start hitting me that I was going to do this until I was watching Dolly get pierced. I knew I wouldn’t be long after her. I was watching her trying to get up. Impressed that she didn’t need someone to help her balance when she walked. I was told that I would be next. She is up and I have to move away to get ready. Now things hit home. I can’t stand and enjoy her ride like I did with Mischief because now I have to shut off. Now I have to figure out how the fuck I am going to do this.

Music so loud I drown out all my thoughts. I know that I will do this, I’m not afraid of the pain. I don’t know what I am afraid of but its not the pain or the sensation. I think I was afraid of letting go. There are jokes made as my skin is grabbed at, figuring out the best placement for the hooks. I smile but don’t say much. What is there to say? I’m on the verge of tears again and I have no idea why. The piercing isn’t as bad as when I get my back done. They seem to go in a little easier in comparison. The second one really sucked and oh look, I’m crying. It was weird because once that second hook was in, all the chatter in my head stopped. I haven’t been sleeping well lately because my brain doesn’t stop. I will lie in bed and think random things, not bad things but a constant chatter of unimportant shit. Everything stopped. I think I cried because having silence for the first time in what feels like forever, is a big relief. I tried to hold myself together but it didn’t really work. Cried as I was getting rigged up and had to take a moment just to breath in order to make it stop. I don’t know if it was fear about doing this suspension, being emotional all week and having a head which doesn’t shut the fuck up.. I don’t know what it was but just having those hooks in started this huge emotional purge. I don’t know what those emotions were but I feel like it was every emotion under the sun, just tumbling out all at once. Maybe I was more afraid of doing this style than I thought I was. I felt like I was crying for no real reason at all, it was just happening.

Other than the amount of pain this style causes me, the position I’m in makes it really hard to balance. I can’t walk this out like normal and keeping my balance in one place is impossible. I have to hold Toms hands because I feel so unsteady. It doesn’t take as long as I expected before I am on tip toes. Problem is, I don’t think I can get off the ground this way. I need something to push against. Cramp in both legs and I am back flat on the ground. I know that I will do this, I just have to figure out the best way to do it so I can keep my balance. The last time I did this, the person helping me stood with her back to me and I pushed on her shoulders. Tom is too tall so it won’t work that way again. Back up to where I was and I figure out that I need people either side of me. I don’t even care who at this point because I know I am so close to that moment. Mischief comes to the rescue and I have my arms around them both. Not exactly what I was planning but it will work. Change the song, find the right moment, wait for it. Its now or never.

I think that I always have a now or never moment. With chest its even more sudden because it fucking hurts. With other styles I find it more gradual but with my chest it was just all of a sudden this switch flips in my brain and I need up and I need up now. Having someone on either side meant that getting up was so much better than last time. I was up and blinded by pain. Then the strangest thing happened. I remember thinking that I want my arms off of them so its just me, wrapped up around myself. I remember willing my limbs to move but I was frozen. No matter how much my brain told my arms to move towards me, they wouldn’t. I remember the pain, flashing red across my eyes, hard to breathe, hard to focus. I remember time slowing down. You know when you watch a movie and they zoom in on the clock and the ticking starts to slow, slower, slower and then it just stops and time is frozen, then after a few moments it speeds up and up and goes back to normal again. That’s what it felt like for me. It felt like everything slowed down, everything faded around me and I could still feel everything but I was also numb to it. The world stopped for a moment and it was just me, hanging there. There wasn’t pain or emotion or anything. The world was dark and quiet, noises became muted and sensations were dulled. For me it felt like hours but in reality it would only have been a few seconds. Everything started to come right again, noises became louder, lights brighter, pain more intense and breathing hard again. Time went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

I wanted down again. I had had my moment and I was at peace. Part of me wanted to try and go up again, mostly because I wanted my arms to wrap around me so that that small amount of my weight wasn’t on people. I very nearly did but decided that this time it didn’t matter so much. I was tired, I wanted to retreat into myself and figure out what happened. It was weird because I was laying on the table, getting the hooks taken out and bandaged up. I’m told a story about a chest experience, and I don’t know why he was telling me but it was comforting to hear. I don’t know if he just felt compelled to tell me, or maybe he saw a small change in me when I was up. It was comforting though.  I’m shaking and my teeth are chattering but I already know that I will do a 2pt chest again. I don’t know when, when the time is right I will just know that that’s the style to do. But I will do it again. Every time I do it, I figure out an easier way of doing it.

A 2pt chest is unlike any other suspension. What I got from it is very different to what I get from any other style. This was very, very much about my head. So many of the styles I do is based on my body. To see what my body can do, what position I can be in, how I can make myself feel beautiful when in the air, or try something to prove to myself that my size won’t stop me from being in that position. But this, this is all about my head. This is to make all those self doubts, all the chatter, all those depressive thoughts that have been plaguing me for months, to make everything disappear. To find home within myself and feel peace within myself. To know that I can keep going, that I will do well. That the things that are hard in life won’t beat me.

Suspensions have changed my life drastically. I am not the same girl who started this journey. I have learnt so much about myself and what I am capable of because I have been given the tools to see it for myself. Suspensions have had the biggest impact on how I deal with my depression and how I deal with my self image. To know that I can put my body through this and come out the other side even better than before. Becoming part of this community changed my life. When this all started I was in a very dark place, with no way of seeing any light a head of me. These people helped me find some light in the darkness, helped me heal and helped me find the motivation to not give up when that was the only thing I wanted to do.

In a way, suspensions did save my life. It gave me a purpose when I couldn’t find one. It gave me mental clarity when nothing else worked. It gave me confidence when I felt stuck in a body which would stop me from doing anything. It gave me a group of people that accepted everyone for who they were and not how they looked or what they did.

Thank you for saving me.

I am sad about the hiatus but I am eternally grateful for having a 16yr olds wish granted.

I will never be the same again.









{January 30, 2017}   Phase Two – Branding 2015

Over the weekend I got the second part of my leg piece done. This time it was branding. I asked a lot of questions leading up to the event. I was scared I would go through the same thing that I did with the scarification. I was scared I would lose more of myself and spend the next few months putting myself back together again. All for what? In the name of body art and self acceptance? How can it be that at all when it destroys parts of me in the process?

The branding itself was okay. It was easier to cope with than I expected. Yeah, it hurt like fuck but it wasn’t the same agony of flesh removal. Once the metal was on my skin it felt like fire and pain. But when it was removed again it was simply a warm dull ache. I cried out, I was very vocal as usual but I coped. I managed, I got through it without actually shedding any tears. A last imprint from a dear friend. One last scar of his to bear. For that I am thankful.

And He was there. Holding me, watching me hurt, helping me find strength to see it all finished. He cared for me and looked after me when it was done. Even when I snapped at Him because I found His methods frustrating. Even that night i was moody and angry and He took it in His stride like He always does.

It’s the healing that gets to me. A few days later and it all hits me. I’m exhausted and sore. I can’t have scalding hot showers or piles of blankets on me at night as the heat hurts my leg. It gets irritated and swollen because of my work pants rubbing on it. I can’t bend because my whole body aches due to the tension of muscles during the initial branding. I’ve lost interest in food and getting out of bed and facing the world has become a nightmare. I’d rather be in bed all day, trapped inside my own head, away from everyone.

It’s always the healing afterwards that tears at my very core. It’s now that I question if it was worth the pain or not. It’s now that I begin to hate what I put my body through, time and time again. It’s now that everything falls around me because all my strength is focused on healing the damaged tissue. It’s now that I feel the most alone because this was my choice, I did this to myself, I am to blame for it all. And so I suffer in silence and wait for it to pass.

When I see the scar forming, when the pain is gone and I feel more myself. That’s when this will be the best decision I’ve made. But until the healing is over I will keep sinking. This is the part I hate the most. I can deal with pain, it’s the breaking up inside that comes with healing that I can’t seem to cope with.

What I go through is not easy, none of these things are easy. What gets to me is knowing that the initial cut or burn or whatever, that’s only the first part. This doesn’t end when the design is done, it takes weeks to recover from.

Right now I’m just trying to recover. Once it’s healed I’ll be proud of it, of me. But right now I question my sanity all over again. I had hoped I wouldn’t go through this mental anguish a second time. Here I am again.

{January 30, 2017}   Love Is – 2015

Love is helping me to stand, when my body wants to give way but mind is not ready to quit.
Love is telling me that this will be finished, even if I have to be strapped down to do so.
Love is spending an hour cleaning and dressing my wound, being ultra careful not to hurt me more than needed.
Love is getting up early on her day off and driving me to work.
Love is cuddles in bed after patiently waiting for days so that I wasn’t so sore.
Love is driving two hours to come to my rescue because I wasn’t coping. I wasn’t okay and he could tell it just from my voice.
Love is days in bed being looked after when I needed it most and had no strength left for myself.

Love is words unspoken but heard all the same.
Love is mine.

How I was this time last week, is very different to how I am today. I’m not out of this and won’t be for a while. But I am a lot better.

I didn’t expect I would hardly be able to walk. I didn’t expect I wouldn’t be able to drive or go to work. I didn’t expect to not be able to come home and sleep in my own room, due to not being able to get up stairs. I certainly didn’t expect that I would turn around and hate myself for doing this. Today I am walking almost completely normal again and there is a lot less pain with movement. It still hurts, sleeping is hard to do and I get exhausted easily. My body is putting all of its energy into healing, even more so with the beginning signs of infection and the need for antibiotics. Now even the good guys are getting knocked down in order to stop things from going bad. Its all part of it though.

I know I’m healing. I feel it with my movement, with how I sleep and when I stretch. I’m healing inside as well. I don’t hate myself as much as I did, though I still don’t love myself for doing this. This was difficult for me. I thought I would see the images and be amazed with myself. Part of me is still disgusted though. I thought I would find it beautiful, because its something I have found beautiful for such a long time. I saw my mum the other day, she told me that she wasn’t surprised when she found out I did it. I had been talking about it for years and it was just a matter of time. If anything, she was surprised it had taken this long to happen. This was something I was always going to do and I never questioned my need for having it done.

But having it done has been harder than I ever expected it to be. The moment I started I regretted it. I hated that I was putting my body through such hell in the name of art. I don’t regret it now. I am happy that I endured something that I still don’t understand how I managed to endure in the first place. It was unlike anything I have ever done and I don’t think I will ever understand how I actually got through it. It felt like I was doing it to hurt myself, that it was harm and mutilation and not help. It scared me.

It was help though. It was my own personal rite of passage. It was the next step in my journey of becoming the person I want to be. I had to hurt in order to see my strength and I had to hate in order to see how much I love. I’m still finding it difficult to get through all of the emotions that it brought up. It brought things up for me that I never realised even bothered me. The emotional rollarcoaster that this one thing has caused, has been the hardest part of all of it to deal with. Wounds heal, but heads are harder to fix. For the first four or five days, I didn’t think my head would get fixed from this. I thought I had seriously fucked myself up.

I didn’t. I’m okay. I’m getting better inside as the outside heals too. But I still feel fragile. Like a gust of wind will blow me over. The wrong thing said will tip me back into darkness. I used so much strength to get through it, that now I have none left to keep my emotions in check. Day by day I get better.

But this was mine. This was my moment. This was my ritual. My rite of passage. This was what I needed. It happened how and when it was meant to happen. For my 21st I suspended, after saying for the 6 years leading up to it, that that is exactly what I was going to do. I never questioned my need to suspend and my need to do it to mark turning 21. A number I never thought I would ever each. And now I turn 25 and in celebration of that I have the only name other than my real one, that fits me perfectly and I have it with me always now. This wasn’t about my birthday, it was about reaching a place I never thought I could get to.

I am perfectly imperfect.
I am pretty imperfection.
This was my ritual.
My rite of passage.
And I look forward to figuring out what the hell I’m going to do next.

{January 30, 2017}   New Territory – 2015

I’ve taken my body into something further than ever before. Its having to heal something unlike anything else. I have gone against my bodys very nature by intentionally removing part of its protective barrier. Its no small thing to go through. Its something that I thought about for a very, very long time before going ahead and doing it. It wasn’t a decision made on a whim, it was thought about and planned. I could have planned it better, yes. I should have had a support person, I should have known I would not be able to drive. I should have thought about the fact that my house has stairs which I can’t get up right now. I should have thought about more time off work. But even with careful planning, not everything turns out the way I want, it turns out the way it should. I learnt lessons from the way this turned out, I learnt lessons about myself.

I can go through hell and I can do it standing alone. I can hurt in unimaginable ways and even if I feel like my own mind is crashing in around me, I still keep going. I was surrounded by people who love me and support me, this was done out of love. It felt like I was doing it alone because the people who were part of it had jobs to do, I didn’t have that one person whose job was making sure I held my shit together. That is something I should have planned for but doing it myself showed me that I can do this myself. At the end of the day when it feels like I am breaking apart, I can still find that hidden strength inside me that makes me keep going. It helps to have people around me, but at the end of the day I only have myself.

This happened the way I needed it to. I needed to fall so far and so hard the next day because I had been strong for near on three hours, and it took its toll. I never expected my mind to turn against me, because I have never done anything like this before. There is no going back from this. Once its done, you can’t change it. You can’t put the skin back, you are left with a scar for the rest of your life. This is with me always now. It wasn’t the permanence that bothered me though. I knew it was permanent and had accounted for that. It was the brutality of what I had just done which bothered me.

I know about the skin. I know about the human body and how it heals. I know the physical but the mental was something I never accounted for. I never thought I would question my reasons for doing it. I never thought I would question my own sanity for getting something like this done. This isn’t a small thing to do and go through. Its so much bigger and harder than I expected it to be. This is unlike any other mod and its not for people who don’t understand the magnitude of what this actually means. I intentionally caused a huge open wound on my leg. I took away flesh in order to cause a scar. I damaged my body on purpose so that I could force it to heal in a way which would be pleasing to me. I can’t walk properly, I have to constantly take pain killers in order to get through the day. All I do is sleep and eat and even that is hard to do at times. Getting it done seems to be the easier part of all of it now that I am starting to heal and getting it done was not easy! This is a whole new journey for me and only now am I starting to see any of the positives in it.

I didn’t do this because I’m a hard player. I didn’t do this to fit in to a group. I did this because I have always wanted it done. I did this because I like changing myself to better fit myself. I did this because it is more a part of me than leaving that patch of skin bare. I did it because I had to do it. I needed it done.

I did it because this is me. I did it because I love myself and I don’t try to hide who I am. I did this out of love, and it was done to me out of love.

Thank you for taking me on another new journey, entering into new territory and reminding me how loved I am.

{January 30, 2017}   Beyond Limits – 2015

I found a limit over the weekend. Something I will never do again and not for the reasons most would think. I did it anyway, it was started and had to be finished. The damage to my body is nothing compared to what it’s done to my head. There are other things for me to write about, much happier things such as 25 + 1 but instead this is all I am able to say right now.

I had wanted this for a long time. Ever since I saw a guy at a bus stop when I was in my early teens. He had beautiful scars on his legs, designs of swirls and twists but not tattoos. I have always loved body mods, always wanting more and thinking of what to add to my own personal canvas. It’s art to me, expression, beauty in order to make me feel more like me. A scarification was going to happen at some point in my life. It already has. My first was a rose cutting on my left breast but I decided my next had to be a skin peel in order to get the look I wanted.

So I did it. I had it done. The pain was like nothing else I have ever experienced and I don’t know how I got through it. I don’t know how I survived it because to me it was hell, it was agony and so far past what I could deal with. This isn’t said to put people off, I have never handled the pain from blades very well at all. Cutting is difficult for me, always has been. I can’t find a way to deal with the pain it brings me, it’s just pain and I don’t find it fun.

But now that its all over it seems nothing compared to how it feels to heal. So tired and exhausted I can’t walk properly, talk, think, I can hardly feel emotions at all. The only way to describe this is empty. I am left with nothing inside of me yet I am forced to keep going. I have no strength to laugh so all I do is cry. Every movement causes my muscles to spasm and skin to prickle that’s not even there. My body is starting to heal, the pain will get better but it’s not easier to cope with. My head is now broken.

I have never questioned what mods I get. I have never doubted if I should have done it or not. But this leaves me feeling sick at myself. To ask someone to do this to me, to maime my body by removing skin, just to get a scar? Is it worth it? Is this pain worth going through or have I mutilated myself and I just call it art? Am I sick? I feel like I’m sick. Like I am seriously fucked up for wanting it done in the first place and for some how actually managing to go through something which was so far past my limits.

I wanted this. I asked for this. Now I have to live with it.

I’m not proud of what I went through or what I’m going through now. I’m not proud that I wanted it, asked for it and finally got it. I don’t see what I did as a feat of great achievement, I see it as a new level of completely fucked up shit I put my body through.

I reached a limit and went right past it. Now I have to live with my choice because I can’t go back.

I hope this feeling goes away and I can look at my scarification with awe and not repulsion. I hope I see the beauty in it like i did for the guy at the bus stop. This isn’t me. I am not an empty person, I just have to ride this out. I knew it was going to be difficult, you can’t put your body through such trauma and simply be okay. I just never expected getting this done would make me question my own sanity.

I won’t regret this once it’s all over. I just have to heal.

{June 11, 2013}   Silence Me – My Ritual

Three days ago i did my silencing ritual and this is the writing i did later on that night. It has been edited from the original as some things were not relevant to post on this site.

I started out wanting to do this in order to silence what goes on in my head.. to take away my voice in order to try to calm my inner voice. Its something i have wanted to do for probably over a year and tonight i did it. I had my mouth sutured closed and the experience was more than i ever could have imagined.. it went from learning to quieten myself, to learning how to listen.

It hurt.. there was a needle going through my face so of course it hurt! The pain wasn’t what scared me about this. I have my lip pierced so i had a very vague idea of what the pain was going to be like. When He started i was scared, i wasn’t just nervous i was scared. I had wanted this for so long and now to actually have it done.. could i really do it? He started and bit by bit i was sewn closed. It got to a point where even though my head was telling me it was fine, my body was telling me we were going too fast. I had a massive wave of shock kick in, the kind of shock which makes you want to vomit, and with stitches in my mouth, vomiting wasn’t an option. So we slowed down, and bit by bit He sewed more until it was done. I am beyond proud of myself because i managed to get through something that my body did not want to happen. I over took the shock and i rode it in waves until i no longer felt sick i just floated. And for me, riding the kind of shock that makes me sick, is that hardest kind for me to fight. Its not that endured it, or  blocked it, boxed it, we just found a way that i could manage it and for me thats big. I am beyond proud because going into it i was utterly terrified.. to the point where when He was preparing things i almost backed out.

But i didn’t back out, and i found a peace like nothing else. My inner voice, the voice that has been ruling my life with negative thoughts and feelings finally shut the fuck up. I didn’t think anything…  and for someone with depression, do you know how good it feels to think nothing at all? And then the thing i didn’t expect happened. I started listening, really listening to the things people said. I do listen to people, but when you can’t speak, when you can’t answer them. You hear the things they are trying to tell you but can’t, you pick up on movement and tone and when someone tells you that they are proud of you, that you are beautiful and amazing… you understand why they are telling you. You understand that they mean it, that they feel it with everything within them and not being able to answer means that you don’t shrug it off like its nothing. You don’t shy away because of your inability to take compliments. You actually fucking listen to every word they say and you know they mean it and you feel that.

I find it hard to take compliments, i don’t hold a high opinion of myself and i often find it hard to see the things in me that others see. But when you have no voice, when there are no thoughts in your head.. you start to see what they have been trying to tell you the whole time they have known you. I find what i did to be beautiful. I kept going back to look in the mirror because despite the dried blood and thread sticking out of my face, i found the image staring back at me beautiful.

I had so many compliments on the way i looked tonight. Everyone was so incredibly kind and to talk to someone who watches my journey from afar and have her tell me how happy she is for me. That she has loved being able to watch me grow into who i am now. I did take it in, but then later when i couldn’t speak, the conversation came back to me and i understood things in a way i didn’t before.

I have felt so lost after my suspension, so at odds with the world and those around me. But by simply taking away my voice, forcing me into silence where the only thing i can do is truly listen to people.. i no longer feel lost. Its like the lost little girl inside made up her mind on which path to take and she chose to go straight through the middle of the fork and pave her own path.

What i needed to learn the most was how to listen, how to accept what others say and to smile and laugh and enjoy. Its nice to have my smile back.. even if it does hurt.

To me it was about finding myself and learning to listen, to stop the things in my head long enough to actually hear the things people were telling me.

This was selfish and my own, i did this all for myself but i needed to do it. And i’m very lucky to have such a wonderful friend who time and time again gives me exactly what i need, no matter how selfish it is.

I don’t know if i could have done this without His help because when i enter into something that terrifies me on such a massive level like this, its His silent push that marks the moment where i decide that there is no way in hell i’m backing out.

Thank You, for giving me what i needed and helping me find peace again. For just being you because your a pretty cool dude 🙂


Written a year ago

She stands in a crowd and no one see’s
Blending in to hide from the scene
My pretty little imperfection
Such a perfect imperfection

Silently walking this dark lonely street
No other sound but the sound of her feet
Wishing the wind would sweep her away
Wanting the pain to ebb and to fade

Ending up no-where in the pouring rain
A tear streaked face, with no one to blame
My pretty little imperfection
Such a perfect little imperfection

et cetera