This past weekend was not kind to me. In a fit of emotional breakdown I ended up cutting again. I haven't cut since May 2011, and this is the first time I've done it in Seattle. I'm still not quite sure what I intended to accomplish. I've sense written a letter to myself effectively calling out all of my bullshit, which, I may post as an edit to this post. The letter was drastic, and really helped me confront some of my issues on romance and expectations. Largely, everything revolves around my sources of validation and finding it from other people instead of from within. It also serves to call out some of my insecurities.
The salient point of this post however, is the aftermath of said self-mutilation. Emotions ranged from disappointment at the lack of the initial rush, to the relief, and peace that comes afterwards. Cutting was always a form of emotional control, it caps off everything and lets me be at peace for the rest of the day or so. Why this form of repression works is still a mystery to me, but it simply pushes everything aside and lets me think coherently again without all the noise of depression and deprecation that normally haunts me. I'd love to say that it wasn't body image related, but I purposefully push those in to make the rush/release better.
The following days went about as expected with no real changes aside from calming me down. Until last night. My partner wasshowing testing out the cat-o-nine-tales she recently acquired on me. This isn't unusual for us as we normally have a submissive/dominant role behavior. This went normally until towards the end I began to tear up, which is abnormal for me. I'm not entirely sure if it was just the emotional build up from the past week coming out finally, but that seems a likely suspect. Afterwards I made a remark that ensured she would find the cuts. She expressed her dissatisfaction, which I thought would simply be a verbal scolding and reproach. I did not expect her to actually punish me for it, and with such intensity. By the end of it I was crying intensely and unable to speak.
At this point she said if I was having a hard day that I could speak to her, I wanted to reply that I've had a hard life, but couldn't bring myself to speak and maintain composure at the same time.
We discussed the issue, and debated turning it into something creative, the idea of putting a line through them to signify the ending of the habit. This idea appealed to me, but I quickly became attached to cutting, hanging on to it in case I needed it. She eventually decided to make X's through them with a carbon fiber rod, which left me in further tears and shambles, and then told me that as long as I belonged to her, I wasn't allowed to do that anymore.
I'm not quite sure what I think of everything. I enjoy the idea of belonging that I get from being with/owned by her, but I'm also torn in that I'm hindered from my one emergency escape release I have, a release from emotions and insecurities often exacerbated by or originating from our relationship. Not that they are the pinnacle of issues I have, but they are often a contributing factor.
She asked why I didn't tell her, and I'm usually afraid people will think I do it for attention, or dismiss the issue as petty and childish, or insincere. Often I don't find them that important enough to bring up. Partially, I don't enjoy admitting my insecurities to the people that cause them. It requires a degree of emotional vulnerability and conflict willingness that I simply haven't achieved yet.
She also asked how I could hate myself so much. It is astonishingly easy when you've spent 15 years internalizing the sociological hatred for people like yourself, or the disgust at feeling disfigurement every time you look in the mirror. You build up so much of that, it simply becomes who you are over time, it becomes natural.
In writing the note to myself mentioned earlier, I wanted to end it by signing "I love you". I couldn't bring myself to type it. Not that this is news, One of my previous partners took it upon herself to point it out to me (as if I wasn't aware) and use it as another point for us to break up. Personally, I've come to a truce on the issues. I don't expect and can't be at peace with myself when it isn't who I am, and embodies (literally) myself. Until things are remedied, there is little I can do but accept things they way they are, for the time being. Which I've largely done. It doesn't mean I love myself, I can't, or won't, but it does mean I can live and function normally for periods of time.
In the end, I'm glad everything last night happened, I just wish the issues that necessitated the cutting in the first place were solved, rather than dealing with the symptomatic responses to it.
The salient point of this post however, is the aftermath of said self-mutilation. Emotions ranged from disappointment at the lack of the initial rush, to the relief, and peace that comes afterwards. Cutting was always a form of emotional control, it caps off everything and lets me be at peace for the rest of the day or so. Why this form of repression works is still a mystery to me, but it simply pushes everything aside and lets me think coherently again without all the noise of depression and deprecation that normally haunts me. I'd love to say that it wasn't body image related, but I purposefully push those in to make the rush/release better.
The following days went about as expected with no real changes aside from calming me down. Until last night. My partner was
At this point she said if I was having a hard day that I could speak to her, I wanted to reply that I've had a hard life, but couldn't bring myself to speak and maintain composure at the same time.
We discussed the issue, and debated turning it into something creative, the idea of putting a line through them to signify the ending of the habit. This idea appealed to me, but I quickly became attached to cutting, hanging on to it in case I needed it. She eventually decided to make X's through them with a carbon fiber rod, which left me in further tears and shambles, and then told me that as long as I belonged to her, I wasn't allowed to do that anymore.
I'm not quite sure what I think of everything. I enjoy the idea of belonging that I get from being with/owned by her, but I'm also torn in that I'm hindered from my one emergency escape release I have, a release from emotions and insecurities often exacerbated by or originating from our relationship. Not that they are the pinnacle of issues I have, but they are often a contributing factor.
She asked why I didn't tell her, and I'm usually afraid people will think I do it for attention, or dismiss the issue as petty and childish, or insincere. Often I don't find them that important enough to bring up. Partially, I don't enjoy admitting my insecurities to the people that cause them. It requires a degree of emotional vulnerability and conflict willingness that I simply haven't achieved yet.
She also asked how I could hate myself so much. It is astonishingly easy when you've spent 15 years internalizing the sociological hatred for people like yourself, or the disgust at feeling disfigurement every time you look in the mirror. You build up so much of that, it simply becomes who you are over time, it becomes natural.
In writing the note to myself mentioned earlier, I wanted to end it by signing "I love you". I couldn't bring myself to type it. Not that this is news, One of my previous partners took it upon herself to point it out to me (as if I wasn't aware) and use it as another point for us to break up. Personally, I've come to a truce on the issues. I don't expect and can't be at peace with myself when it isn't who I am, and embodies (literally) myself. Until things are remedied, there is little I can do but accept things they way they are, for the time being. Which I've largely done. It doesn't mean I love myself, I can't, or won't, but it does mean I can live and function normally for periods of time.
In the end, I'm glad everything last night happened, I just wish the issues that necessitated the cutting in the first place were solved, rather than dealing with the symptomatic responses to it.
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