I grew up in a very conservative family--I wasn't able to get my ears pierced until my 16th birthday when grudging permission was finally granted by my father after secret and complicated negotiations were entered into by my mother and aunt on my behalf.
At A Glance Author ibjules2u Contact [email protected] When N/A I married a conservative man before I ever had an opportunity to miss my rebellious years. Eventually in my early thirties after my second baby was born, I convinced my husband through more complicated negotiations that a second ear piercing was not only not just a passing fad, but also something that was actually attractive.
I think I was trying to make my sad, repressed life more interesting, but what I didn't realize all that time was that I was, in effect, in an emotional coma. I had been gaining weight steadily, which was not helping my failing marriage.
Finally when I was 36 and still married, I woke up from my coma.
After begging my husband to help me fix our marriage, he basically turned his back on me emotionally and I had no choice but to leave him. During this whole devastating process, I discovered cutting--and entered therapy.
Apparently cutting [not cutting as an expression of art, but in an act of self-mutilation] is a big deal. Therapists take it seriously. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why. Is there some sort of relationship between self-mutilation and suicide? I have cut myself 3 times, each time with the tip of a scissors blade, not deep enough to do permanent damage, but large enough to help me end the terrible spiral of self-loathing and to quell the "mind chatter" that would have driven me crazy. Seeing the wound and the dripping blood gave me something to focus on on the outside of my body so that my emotional pain became less important for the moment. Cutting was never a suicide attempt, but an attempt to stop a whirlwind of hatred and anger and contempt, all directed at myself.
As the years have passed since my marriage ended, I went through a year of intense depression, and a year of medication for the depression, and then a friend of mine convinced me to get my ear cartilage pierced. I was already starting to feel better. I was on better terms with my ex-husband, and had forgiven him, and myself, for the end our marriage. I was starting to see myself as prettier and more alive than I had in years. The cartilage piercing was, for me, a much-belated rebellious expression that I had passed over completely in my teens.
A month after the cartilage piercing, which was so painful you'd THINK it would have put me off piercing forever, this same friend convinced me to get my belly button pierced. Now, you have to understand that I do NOT have an attractive stomach! I couldn't understand why Shelly thought that I would enjoy a navel piercing what with all the extra weight and stretch marks etc. However, a group of us [all in our thirties, by the way] went at lunch time and all got our first body piercings.
Well, I was officially hooked after that. The belly button piercing was poorly placed and I had to have it redone, but it wasn't painful and in spite of the improper placement I LOVED the way it looked. The two weeks I waited for the scar to heal were torturous. The second time around was better and I entered the arduous process of after-care on a navel piercing.
I discovered something about myself during this phase: caring for my new piercing was changing the way I felt about my own body. It was helping me to focus on a wound so that the ever-present mind chatter, which was sometimes quite destructive, disappeared. It was, as well, helping me to see myself as someone precious who needed special treatment.
Shelly and I discovered the BME website at that point while looking for after-care tips [Great googly moogly, a navel piercing is a tricky one to heal!] and the world of available piercings was opened up to me on a grand scale!
There was no official policy at work about visible piercings, but we suspected they would be frowned on. So, rather than test the system, I decided to get something hidden pierced and chose my nipples. I was already in love with the gold ring in my ear and the gold ring in my belly button, so I figured gold rings in my nipples would only enhance my continuing work of art.
The piercing was pretty painful, and as the needle was passing through my flesh, I thought, "Hey, this is like cutting myself, only I get jewelry afterwards...cool!" The studio sold me some Satin soap, and I discovered another reason to love piercings. From the point of my first shower with Satin, I have related the smell of that soap to the wonderful emotional calming effect, which I now know is an endorphin rush, that piercing and its aftercare affords me. The sense of smell is a powerful enhancer to emotions.
In the year since, I have had many more piercings, [including an eyebrow piercing that I had to cover everyday until I changed jobs for a more piercing friendly environment, a nostril piercing, and 4 (so far) genital piercings] and a tattoo. I had to retire a tongue piercing because it annoyed me, but I'll probably get it done again since I feel incomplete without it.
Why do I keep going back for more? Why do I never feel, "okay, that's all I need"? I'm not sure.
Partly it's because the urge to cut myself is still a part of my life. Yes, I feel a lot better, and have very little self-loathing anymore, but there are times when things happen that are out of my control and I hate the helpless feeling that accompanies. Piercing gives me a method to externalize internal pain that is beyond my control. When I choose to get a piercing, I am in control of ME.
Piercing provides an addictive rush of endorphins. No, I'm not a fan of pain in general, and don't suffer headaches, for example, gracefully. I don't stub my toe on purpose to bring on an endorphin rush either. Would I still get pierced if the process were completely painless? Yes, I'm sure I would.
Piercing provides me with a method to beautify myself. I know there are a lot of people who think my face is pretty enough without the jewelry, but I don't see myself that way. In MY mind, I see myself with this permanent jewelry, and when the jewelry is out for cleaning reasons or whatever, I feel completely unsettled until it's back in. I love the way the gold and gems sparkle in the light and I have often sat around and admired my [unconventionally] beautiful body in a mirror.
Multiple body piercings help me feel less like a geek and more like a bad-ass. I'll never fully feel part of the body modification sub-culture, even though 16 piercings and a largish tattoo more than qualify me, but it's not because the piercing community excludes me. 35+ years of being a sheltered and overweight dork have taken their toll! However, I don't worry too much about that old self-image--I can walk around the arenas in my life with pride in who I am, and who I am becoming.
Sometimes I worry about this addiction of mine. I really don't see myself with every pierce-able body part heavily adorned, but 2 years ago I didn't see myself with ANY body piercings, either. I don't want to force myself deeper and deeper into a life style that is misunderstood by the general public simply for the sake of this addiction. I wonder how I will feel about these modifications when I am 'middle-aged'--only a few short years away. The energy I've channeled into healing my emotions through piercings will need a direction when I finally reach a stopping point, assuming I ever do. I can't even envision such a project right now.
At that point, I hope I've reached a juncture in my life where others' opinions, good or bad, have ceased to matter to me at all.
But until that time comes, I'll still get pierced, and pierced, and pierced some more. And I'll love everything about it.