Cutting

I did a cutting/scarification at Northern Exposure last weekend. Phoenix B took a scalpel to my right arm and sliced my skin open on top of my tattoo. I now have ‘You say morbid like it’s a bad thing’ carved into my skin. The reactions have been mixed; some are intrigued; some terrified; some freaked out; some think it’s totally bad-ass but only one person asked me why I did it. Rather, Phoenix asked me why I WANTED to have it done. It’s both a simple and a complicated answer.

I have been a cutter since I was about 13 or 14 years old. The constant dissonance I felt within my soul left a pain that never seemed to go away. My heart ached for a home I never knew, and my soul felt trapped in this physical body that didn’t match who I felt I was. I started cutting because I felt that I needed to punish myself. I didn’t feel worthy of Christ’s Atonement. What kind of sick person is attracted to someone of the same sex? What kind of pervert wants to be a boy if they are a girl? The questions tormented me daily, and I could not escape. I felt that maybe if I punished myself enough that God would have mercy on my soul after this life and not make me burn in Hell for all eternity. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my sins were far worse than those of any one else I knew. I felt that I had to be perfect. I came from a wonderful family and there was a lot expected of me so how selfish was I to even think of letting them down? The pressure to be the good little Molly Mormon was crushing, and I was quickly succumbing to failure.

By the time I reached college I was an addict. I was addicted to cutting to try and distract me from the emotional torment that I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t feel good enough for my friends, my partner, my family, or my God. I had to cut and see the blood run red. I had to release all the stress and emotions from my being. As I discovered that there was a term for what I felt, transgender, I tried to stop cutting; I wanted to transition and have a happy life and be clean. The problem was that transitioning made me realize just how much I hated my body and how badly I wanted to escape. I continued cutting but with the added urge to cut my soul out of this horrific body which led to deeper cuts and more suicide attempts. After every cutting episode or suicide attempt I would wake up even more depressed than before realizing that nothing worked; I was still the same disgusting freak only with more real life issues to face because of the choices I had made to try and escape.

My cutting addiction has never been an easy thing to deal with; most people are very against it and are judgmental when I do falter. I have worked hard to try and push the feelings aside until I can get a tattoo by using rubber bands, ice cubes, or tracing my scars with a red sharpie but even a tattoo doesn’t satisfy the physical or psychological needs of a cutting addiction especially since getting a tattoo is also a sin which causes more cognitive dissonance and guilt feelings, so it’s a vicious cycle.

A few months ago my friend Sarha suggested that I get in contact with Phoenix who is this amazing individual from Seattle who comes to Alaska every so often. Phoenix does cuttings among other things. I was able to get in contact and discuss the possibility of cutting on my tattoo; since the tattoo was done to look as if the words were carved into skin I figured why not actually carve them? Phoenix told me to think about why I wanted to do it in between the time we talked and the actual cutting that would take place at Northern Exposure. So why did I want this done? I needed it. I needed the release. I needed to take all the negativity I had been carrying and release it. I also needed to be allowed to mentally go elsewhere and feel the cutting and not worry about my own safety. Having Phoenix do the cutting in a controlled environment while allowing me to relax and go to my own head space would be far safer than my cutting in an emotional rage. I also was not intoxicated for this cutting. I did not get drunk and start slicing randomly. I let someone else be in charge of giving me a release so that I could do what I needed in order to have the release be full, complete, and healthy; physically and emotionally as well as spiritually.

The cutting itself was a very powerful and private experience for me. All I will say is that it allowed me to access a whole new part of myself and was a life changing experience. One aspect that makes this different also is the aftercare. I used to not take care of my cuts afterwards but taking care of this cutting has given me a new appreciation for the release and the art of it. No longer is it looking at myself in the mirror ashamed that I failed but rather looking at the beauty that is all the pain I’ve ever suffered and survived.

I still want to cut myself out of this body most days. Being trapped in the wrong body is difficult, and we live every day having to look at parts that don’t match and fighting for rights to use a bathroom to go pee and have medical attention. When you have to look at yourself in the mirror every day and still don’t recognize your own body, it’s tough to NOT want to crawl out of it. I don’t know if my cutting addiction will ever actually go away. I still get depressed and have bad days despite overall being so much happier in life and have to fight the urge to cut. However, this is part of my journey and part of my story and it’s my body. Instead of judging my or anyone else’s addiction maybe look and ask yourself “what must this person have gone through to feel the need to cut themselves, or burn themselves, or use drugs or alcohol to such a devastating extent, or commit suicide?” Stop blaming us and putting us down and acknowledge that we are survivors because it takes a lot of strength for us to be here and to keep surviving.