Have you ever pierced yourself?
At A Glance Author anonymosity Contact anonymosity@bme.anon When Three months ago Artist myself Studio somewhere sterile Location vancouver Because it's a new experience. Entirely.
I first got the idea having watched my friends do it a month earlier. I had recently gotten out of the hospital. The hospital isn't a happy memory. In fact, it's something I've repressed. I spent 2 weeks there. Many bottles and tubes of blood were taken from me, and I had an IV inserted the day I was admitted. It stayed in until the day I was discharged.
After having had so many needles involuntarily inserted in me, I shied away.
But one day, I had a bad day. A horrible, nothing-went-right day. I could feel myself mentally unraveling. I was going insane.
I hate cutting myself.
I hate the scars. The proof. Proof that I broke down.
I found myself outside Ike's apartment. He has all the supplies. The alcohol pads, the hypodermic needles, the gloves. And I trusted his experience.
He buzzed me in.
When I found myself inside his apartment, I found myself hesitating. There's something so wrong about it. Sticking needles into yourself. But I told Ike what I wanted to do, and he said, "of course!"
He provided me with various gauges to choose from. I decided to start with the smallest. The blue 25g.
After discussing where I wanted to pierce myself, we decided on my lower arms.
He handed me some gloves and I wiped my left arm with alcohol pads. I'm right handed.
The needle was uncapped. And I hesitated. How do I do this?! Do I just poke it through? Bevel side up or down? I had so many questions and uncertainties. I asked Ike if he could do the first one. He put on some gloves and raised my skin by slightly pinching it, and slid the needle through. Bevel side up. After watching the ease that Ike emulated, I wanted to try. I was psyched!
He helped raise the skin. I was aware of every sensation. As the needle drew closer to my skin, I reminded myself to breathe. The end of the needle grazed my skin, and didn't puncture it. The slight sensation was like a small explosion in my head. I shook my head to clear it. And giggled nervously.
Ike remained wordless.
I tried for the second time, and didn't hesitate. Barely felt a thing. Honestly. It went through so smoothly. It was shocking. Months earlier, I had my back play-pierced. This was nothing. NOTHING.
I tried a couple more times without Ike raising the skin.
I would steer the needle in whatever direction.
Nothing.
So we moved onto the larger gauges.
I'm in trades. And I do a lot of metal work. Sheet metal, steel fabrication, welding... And I've never noticed the huge different in gauges until that moment.
I had a 20 gauge needle in hand now. It was yellow. I didn't hesitate. Because the blue (25) was so tiny and painless. It went in. There was more resistance compared to the blue. But it was still very slight in pain. I opted for the pink. The 18 gauge. This baby was HUGE. I have a 10 gauge lip ring, and my ears were stretched to 8 before the stink got to me. I couldn't comprehend how my lip ring could be 8 gauges larger than this.
I had Ike raise some skin again. And it was only halfway through when I realized, "yeah, wow. I can feel that."
My need for pain had been satiated.
I continued poking the blue, 25 gauges through me. Experimenting with pain. With twisting. With body areas. Thick skin and thin skin. Thick skin hurts more, by the way.
With my needs met, I started removing the needles. And it hit me. The endorphin rush. In full. My right hand was too shaky to remove the needles. I drank some juice and relaxed some. But only just a little. Ike and I conversed. He offered to let me pierce him. And I agreed. We continued to talk. And soon I was calm again.
Taking the needles out is fun all on it's own.
To draw blood, I'd twist the needle and remove it on an angle. Making sure that the bevel scratches against my skin.
The pink 18 gauge required no such tricks. It just bled. And bled. I had to apply a lot of pressure to stop it.
The only downside that I noticed, was the interesting scabs and bruises that formed afterwards. I felt like a junky! Every time my arm was exposed, eyes would dart towards it. Only a few commented and asked about it, but I could see the bewilderment on their faces. My instructor asked me if I was doing drugs. I also received a lecture about Hepatitis B.
This is an experience I recommend everybody to try.