• 1,384,807 / 1,384,807
  • 10,234 / 10,234
  • 54,915 / 54,915

The Last Time

I first saw flesh suspension on the front page of bmezine.com in 1993. It was just a man hanging suicide. His head hung forward, his body limp. It was a full body silhouette that showed almost no detail because of the distance it was taken from. I wanted that. I didn't know what it was, but it resonated in my heart and stomach and, to be honest, my sex. I had to do that.

 I waited.

 When I found a team in my area, I hung. There was no connection with me and the girl who threw those hooks for me. Just a woman who had the knowledge I needed to get the result I wanted. She gave me the next step in my journey. But like so many people, she moved forward in life while I stayed put. She left Raleigh, but I found myself with a group of people changed by suspension who had no one to hang us. But her knowledge had been passed. Unbeknownst to me, she shared her knowledge with Archie.

 Archie loves to pierce me. Did I want to try this? Yes. Do I want a hole here? A stretched this? Yes. He worked at the most reputable shop in the area and had pierced me for years. Now, we would move into the world of suspension together.

 Over the years he threw hooks in me in all kinds of locations for all kinds of reasons. He made me wet with every hook. He pulled me and pushed me, physically  and mentally. I dragged him across more parking lots than I can count with my hooks securely anchored in the leather of my back and his hooks unsure of their anchor. He is the man I trust my body with. He is the man I trust my heart with. When he told me he was moving to Denver, I knew that despite all the other moves & returns, this would be final.

 On the day of the last suspension I was a wreck. Emotionally & mentally I was not in the place I needed to be. Suspension sets me free. My anger melts, my fear melts, when my body become free, I am free. But I was not ready to let go. I did not want to let him go. I did not, do not, want what we have to end. But he had invited people to watch. I knew it was me they were there to see. I knew he wanted me to fly and spin and let loose like I do every time and make something that for some is unimaginable seem within reach, but I knew I could not. I just wanted to cry.

 It was fall. We had cleared the leaves in the backyard just a few days before. We broke a rake because the leaves were so thick. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him walk & move knowing that the one who has set me free time after time and let me fly higher than I ever thought was leaving. His path was moving forward and I was staying. The one who saw the beauty in my pain was leaving and with him the ability to be free of pain was going, my mental release was being taken away.

 When I laid down on my stomach, the tears started to come before I even felt the needle. Quietly I released my fear and sadness. Quietly I said goodbye to the man I love, who sets me free, who sees the beauty in what I need. I felt the lines being drawn & I slowly drew in my breath, slowly let it out. He knows the ritual I am used to and completes it.

 Then the pain. For the first time since the very first hook ever pierced my flesh, I feel the pain. Tears are hot in my eyes, the piercing is real. Each hook seems like an eternity and when he is done, I am spent. But I am not even in the air. I am just on the table, sitting up, completely detached from what is happening. This is the last time he will throw my hooks. This is the last time he will string me up. This is the last time he will push me.

 The ritual for hanging has just begun. I stand under the rig. My eyes are closed, but I hear everything, the laughs, the camera shutter, the sound of paracord and carabiners. I try to find the peace that suspension brings me, but there is no peace. I glimpse it, but then I remember that this is the last time he will push me, hang me, pierce me, touch me. I try to absorb everything. He tells me I can begin.

 Before I lift off, there is a little dance I do. Rocking back and forth, step forward, backward, side to side. Stretching my skin and slowly putting more weight onto the hooks, I dance. My brain is screaming "NO" while I try to prepare my body for "yes". My eyelids are closed, but I see everything. Every spat we've had. Every drink we've shared. Every moment of this relationship. I try to conjure up music in my mind to lull myself into space. I need to get to space. I can't get to space.

 I hear my heartbeat in my brain. I feel the wind on my hair. My lungs run smoothly despite the small hitches in my air intake. But I know I am only going through the motions for him. This is the last time and I want to make him proud. I don't want him to see me fall apart, to see me fail at the thing he enjoys giving me.

 My feet leave the ground. My eyes, which have been closed since I situated myself under the rig, flutter open. For the second time in my suspension history, I am seeing the world from above the ground. I look over to see him smiling and the cameras flashing. The hooks are agony. I can feel my weight on each hook. He grabs my foot and spins me, pushes me, goes through the routine he and I have that has always set me free. But this time, it is too late. I have seen everything. I have seen with my own eyes the distance between my feet and the ground, my heart and his heart. He is leaving. This is my last time.

 Within minutes, I am quietly asking to be let down. The connection I have with him is beyond anything I could have ever imagined on the day I met him. And when my feet hit the ground, I knew that was the last time they would leave the ground.


submitted by: MyLifeSuspended
on: 25 Nov. 2013
in Modern Body Suspension

Use this link to share:

Comments (1)

add a comment

Sunday, June 15, 2014 @11:48 a.m.
That's one of the saddest things I ever read. No joy in the end.

Back to Top