Less Skin, but More Love
For two years, I dated a guy who I thought would be my future husband. Call me naive for it, but I honestly thought that he completed me. After a few tough breakups, we finally called it quits, leaving me nostalgic for the past. It seemed that the two years we spent together were unfortunately also two very pivotal years in my life--I lost my virginity, I graduated high school, I started college, I started experimenting with marijuana, I started drinking again, I began some excellent friendships, and my mental/emotional health was higher than ever. It was turbulent to say the least, filled with ups and downs and typical life experiences.
After a few months, I was constantly feeling down about myself because I thought that I was still in love with someone who would never give me what I thought I needed. Not only was I so depressed because the love of my life discarded me, but I was even harder on myself for not being over someone that didn't even make me feel good anymore. That all changed one night.
I called my ex-boyfriend to have friendly conversation. I thought that our post-breakup friendship was finally going to work this time. Finally after a very rude and awakening conversation with him, I realized the truth. All those months of crying and dreaming and hoping and pining, I wasn't in love with him. I was nostalgic for what we had together. I thought about all the things that had been making me upset and I realized none of it was specific to him, it was the memories we had and the experiences we shared. The point was, he was no longer a positive in my live and hadn't been for a while. There was nothing about HIM that I loved. I loved the relationship.
With this revelation I came to a final conclusion, I was ready for a new relationship whenever it might come along. I knew that this wouldn't mean that it would come right away, but nonetheless, I had nothing to be afraid of. The next night, I was reflecting and my scarification began.
This is based on a journal entry I wrote the day after my experience.
Last night after polishing my nails pink, I started a cutting on my left inner ankle. I had been thinking about doing a scarification piece on my leg for a while because I seem to scar very well there. My scarification experience up to this point had been limited to self-injury and BME. From the information i had read and seen on the site, I had a very good idea about how skin removal scarification was performed.
I cut superficially at first. The design was simply a heart. I doubled the line hoping I'd get the guts to cut the strip of skin between the lines away. Not knowing exactly if it would work out, I eventually began to cut deeper. After redefining the outlines several times, I noticed the skin in between had gotten loose looking. I decided to cut across the lines and under a little to somehow pull up a small piece. Then I began to cut away underneath it holding the skin flap back with tweezers.
I worked in sections in a way. I would deepen the outlines for a half inch or so and then start to remove the skin. Then I'd move on cutting deeper further down the outlines. I felt a pain shoot to my knee cap and my toes wriggled as a reflex. It stung from time to time in the raw parts, but when I held the piece of skin back sliding the blade underneath, it was almost painless. Cutting away freeing more and more flesh, it was like a fresh breeze or something. Like exhaling from the bottom of my lungs. It was exhilarating. Freeing.
I wanted to cut away one continuous strip of skin all around the heart not chopping it into sections. That got slightly difficult when I got to the bottom of the heart but I succeeded.
In the end, I had the dried out piece of skin I removed--it was how I pictured an old umbilical cord-- the blade, and the blood-soaked paper towels to keep as "souvenirs." I wrapped up my ankle with a paper towel and medical tape to sleep with.
For me, I definitely feel that by doing it myself, the control I had over the whole ordeal was contingent on the pain level. After almost 2 and half hours of cutting, I was finished and not edgy because I allowed myself to take breaks when I needed to. As opposed to tattoo sessions when there would be urges to grab the tattoo gun and yell "STOP FOR A SEC," I was not in continuous pain. In addition, the intense concentration I had to have kept me from focusing too much on the actual feeling of it.
My experience with skin removal scarification was so special to me and I knew from the moment I finished that it was only the beginning.
While DIY modification is not something I am a proponent for, I do believe that with the proper knowledge and tools, it can often be successful and rewarding. If you are going to attempt something like this for yourself, remember to use new and sterile blades and avoid contamination at all costs. THIS IS A RISKY PROCEDURE.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 25 Feb. 2005