I retired my third eye piercing in a sunny evening parking lot; I was having a bitter argument in level tones, and when I was alone in the car, I looked at the rejecting piercing in the vanity mirror and decided - fuck it - I would remove it, though I'd wanted it for a very, very long time, and let it scar up and heal.
And if I could trace back details through my incoherent memory, I'd say that that was when it began to go to hell. From September onwards, as the scar bubbled and then healed and then faded into a thin white line, I suffered massive depressive episodes, descending to suicidal impulses so intense that I survived them night after night with the help of rage and sheer bloodymindedness - lashing out at those around me in violent, inexplicable fits. College was a complete wash; I had given up on every class.
I travelled, in December, to meet someone in Seattle - and for the first time since September, I was calm again, happy, and we discussed going to
Slave to the Needle to repierce my third eye before I arrived. As it turns out, we didn't leave the house for the full eleven day period I managed to steal from college - though I didn't need to worry about work, as I'd been fired for taking the trip in the first place.
Then I returned 'home', and the depression hit far, far worse than it had. Again, until early February, I remained unpierced through my brow - though I did enjoy a tattoo and a labret piercing - and revisited Seattle for a full fourteen days. This time, the departure was worse...the comedown was worse, knowing that I left someone behind who needed something from me. I slammed the world around me as hard as I could.
But things began to lighten up slightly. The one in Seattle and I kept in close contact - I began to earn 'extra money', money which didn't have to go towards rent or bills or food - and I began to consider repiercing my vertical bridge. It was, very strongly, how I felt my face 'should be'; when I looked in the mirror, it looked as though a major facial feature was absent from me, as though I were missing part of my nose or chin.
Finally, income tax time rolled around...and I had the spare resources for the piercing. I intended to do it on a Friday, but I arrived at the shop ten minutes before closing time - the piercer quite rightly refused to do a lengthy piercing in that length of time, so I made an appointment for the next evening, after work.
Naturally, I was there ten minutes early - waiver signing time, I call it - and the piercer quite seriously reminded me that she'd not done the piercing before, and if she couldn't get the clamps on, or got them on and couldn't find the perfect spot, she wouldn't be doing the piercing. That was fine; I had no desire to have the piercing done badly, or crookedly.
We went in and began the marking session; by the end of it, we had two custom-bent 14g steel surface bars, a level, a pair of calipers, and...a perfectly marked piercing, over the scar of the last piercing, as we'd decided the previous piercer had gotten perfect placement the first time. I decided on a shorter bar, as I preferred the look of the beads closer together; ideally, I would have one bead placed exactly where the top bead is on this piercing, but I'm not quite ready for a transdermal trip.
Once it was marked and measured, I flipped myself up onto the piercing bed, positioned myself, and tried to relax. She clamped it; as usual, it stung more than I remembered. She said it was perfectly clamped, and, more quickly than I expected, told me to take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth...
pulse went the needle, and
perfect went the piercer. She slid the jewelry in quickly, without a fuss, and dabbed the blood gently off my head, reaching for a mirror to show me the new holes.
It was perfect. Exactly as I remembered myself. Exactly as I was.
I sat up, and looked at it quite a few more times, without glasses, with - the piercer remarked that it was bleeding still, dabbed at it again, and in fact the piercing bled well into the next day - unlike the first time. This time, I call it a good omen.
She gave me an aftercare rundown and laughingly said that I probably knew better how to care for it than she did. Not quite...but this time I was going to try very hard - in leaving it alone, if I had to - to keep it.
I paid less than I expected, tipped, and walked out in a blissful state. For a moment. But that's a different story. For now, the piercing looks marvelous; no swelling, no redness, no bleeding. I've been using Dragon Mist on it, washing it, gently taking the crusties off with a cotton swab; I haven't salt-soaked it yet, but I believe I will try it tomorrow. I don't feel it at all, except when I see it - and then it feels right.
Namaste.