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Two Point - Six Gauge

Getting pierced with two six gauge hooks at the same time was rough, to say the least. I yelled 'fuck' a few times and immediately decided that whoever told me that 6 gauge was just a slight pinch more than an 8 gauge was completely insane.
This was my second attempt at a suicide suspension.

My plan was to pull against the rig first and get the hooks seated comfortably before going up. When I did my four point suicide, I didn't have a chance to get comfortable with the hooks before I decide to leave the ground, so I wanted to work into them first. When Jason set me up on the rig, I eased into some tugging and immediately felt the difference between the sizes in hooks. Six's are much more comfortable by far. My left hook was perfect. I could put all my force behind it and there was no pain, no pressure. I got excited. I felt some odd pressure around my right hook...the tissue wasn't separating...so I set out to work that hook in so I could get rolling to the fun part.

After tugging on my right side a bit, I decided throw caution to the wind and get off the ground, thinking that the tissue would separate once I put my weight on it. I took a few steps back...few steps forward...I felt good, smiling, excited. My legs curled beneath me...and I nearly vomited as I swung backwards. It felt as if there was a hot wire connected to the right hook that pulled the muscle up from my back, under my shoulder blade, and down the back of my arm. My feet hit the floor, but my legs were buckling. Somehow I ended up in the chair, leaning forward, my hands in Thomas's hands. I could feel the sadness creeping into the edges of my mind, taunting me that I wouldn't be able to succeed. Then I heard Thomas talking to me..telling me to clear my mind, go somewhere else, leave this place for a while.
Deep breaths. I saw myself on a beach..face up towards the sun. Feeling each grain of sand sifting through my toes. I could hear the ocean and feel the waves of energy wash over me. Little by little I felt the cool sensation of the calm on my head..gently soaking into my skin..slowly drifting to my neck..slipping down my shoulders and spine. I don't know how long I was in this beautiful world of my mind, but eventually I decided it was time. I wanted to lift my feet from the sand. I opened my eyes and said 'I want to go up.'

The only thing I could think was that I was going to get my fucking feet off the ground since that is what I came here to do. And nothing is going to stop me. This time, I sprinted forward and yanked my feet off the ground..only to have the breath knocked out of me by the deafening pain in my right shoulder once again. I kind of went numb from that point forward. Jason disconnected me from the rig. I laid down so my hooks could be removed. Put my sweater back on and walked out to the main room. I grabbed my smokes and went out into the crisp chilly air. I walked around to the side of the building..and bawled. It poured from me, this heaping bundle of emotions. All I felt was the disappointment in myself. As if I let myself down by not being off the ground for a while and having fun with it, as I had hoped. I had failed.

Since then, I've talked to several people, mainly suspension artists, and they all said the same thing. "You took the hooks. You were rigged up. You may have only been off the ground a few seconds, but you suspended. You did it. It's not really about being off the ground..it's what you take from the experience."

I understand where they are coming from and they are right. I'm still trying to shake the doubts away and sift through the whole experience a bit more.

So what did I take from it? Each suspension is much more intense than the one before. Each cutting, each tattoo...every time I do something new, the level of emotional intensity grows. And each time I learn a little something about myself. Perhaps I am frustrated because I think that whole 'face your fear' thing isn't working as planned. That my sheer determination and stubbornness is not helping me overcome the pain factor to one day succeed at one of these attempts. I've always felt that whatever I want to do, whatever I set my goals to, I can achieve it. So why can't I achieve this? Maybe suicides aren't the right suspension for me. Maybe I just need to try a few more times before I reach my goal. Maybe I'm simply not ready yet. Or perhaps my mind is having a hard time letting go.

What can I not let go of? What's holding me back? I'm still trying to figure it out.

I hold the perfect hooks in my hands, acknowledging that they originally were not meant for me, yet my flesh is the only they have kissed. I can feel the energy emitting from them. I trace the smooth metal with my fingertips. Only one thought comes to mind..round two with these sons of bitches is going to be one hell of a ride.

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submitted by: Anonymous
on: 01 April 2005
in Ritual

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Artist: jason+and+emrys
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