Wednesday, September 30, 2009

I Give My Master Control Of My Cutting

I cut because it hurts. I cut to block out the emotional pain. Physical pain is much easier to endure than emotional pain. It’s a release that I get nowhere else. I am not into illegal drugs nor do I drink myself numb. I function just like you. I go to work, just like you...do all of those other things just like you do. I just have a different way to cope with stress.

My weapon of choice is a razor blade. It’s small easy to hide and of course very very sharp. The whole process is very ritualized for me. I keep everything exceptionally clean and I use a fresh snow white cloth after.

I remove my shirt and bra so they are not stained. Lay my arm across a table or desk turning it so that my under arm is exposed. The skin there is soft and the area easier to hide. Under each arm there is about 5 inches of marks about 2 inches in length in various degrees of healing. I cut about once a week now. It varies on what’s going on in my life. Once a week is good, I have cut once a day in the past.

I am careful to not let my anxiety or emotions have me cutting to deep. A trip to the ER would be disastrous for me.

One of my nightmares is being locked up in a place with no escape and no one that hears my pleading or *does* hear it and does not care. Cutting is not something you can just lock someone up until it’s over type of thing. It’s not a withdrawal like a drug addict or a drunk would go through. And yet the adrenaline and sense of release that comes along with cutting is addictive in its own way.

I will find a way to cut so do not try to stop me.

Do I think I will ever stop? It causes me great anxiety to think so. This is not an easy thing to think about stopping and what will replace it?

I am not trying to kill myself by doing this. I just want to blur the emotional pain...stop it for just a time so I can catch my breath and continue. If I wanted to kill myself it would be done.

As I bring the blade to my skin I put it so one corner is pressed in for a downward stroke. At this point I am usually already crying and I think my breathing changes. Putting the full cutting edge of the blade down does not work for me. The cut does not go as smooth and I seem to have less control.

The cut is quick and I am instantly mesmerized and a bit outside myself as I watch my skin part cleanly. Time stops and it seems like an eternity until I see blood. (The reality I am sure is that it is mere seconds.) Suddenly my mental anguish becomes a thing that’s real, a physical reality. It’s not something just in my mind. Even the pain is physical, proof that I hurt in a very real tangible way. And it does hurt me. I do it because it hurts.

I press the white cloth that I have wetted with water before hand against the cuts and hold it there a moment, the water makes the cloth cool against my heated skin and I like the patterns the bright red blood makes as it soaks in, as if the towel also bleeds with me. My hands tremble and I spend considerable time watching the blood escape.

Afterwards I am generally quiet and tend to be able to think more clearly about things. For the next few days the pain will be constant as the cuts move against my clothing. When the pain starts to lessen the desire to cut again increases.

Now that I am in a D/s relationship I have given over to my Master the control of when I cut. This is an ongoing struggle for me as I have discussed in previous posts. But it feels to me that it is not possible to keep this to myself and then kneel before him and say I submit fully.

And he has me thinking something I have never considered before. Replacing it possibly totally or in part with flogging. I trust him enough to try.

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