I made the decision to get back into BDSM when I had been clean of self injury for several years. It was a battle reconciling with the healthy masochist. While self harm literature is far from consensus, there is a pervasive idea that continuing to injure the body in any way is a form of self harm. That the self harmer needs to approach recovery much like an alcoholic in AA, with complete sobriety.

I had spent the prior two and a half years avoiding all kinds of pain. I refused to own knives, I would get upset with myself if I even had the urge to hit the wall, and I would not allow any enjoyment of accidental injury. Simultaneously I was feeling guilt about my scars that I would not acknowledge. There was a deep shame that I had ever thought it justifiable to hurt myself. After separating from my vanilla marriage I was plagued by highly erotic memories involving bleeding, bruising, aggression, and submission.

It was a crossroads, a recognition of the merging of two paths, and to continue moving forward these two ideas would have to coexist. I had to be able to be a self injurer in recovery, and a sexual masochist. In one of my first scenes that summer, I consented to a mark, due to a calculation error this mark covered my chest. I found myself in an old turmoil of coping with marks, going between pride, guilt, and shame.

As a self injurer marks are complicated, and in recovery it doesn’t cease to be complicated. As discussion of scars can be triggering, they often go unmentioned in peer support groups. Clinical professionals often have difficulty coping with the self injury of their patients, so there is no safe space to make amends with scars.

My self injury came from multiple places, one was that it verified that my pain was real. There was validation in the damage to my body, however it wasn’t completely positive. It came from self destruction, and often a lose of control. Either from spontaneously self injuring without prior planning, or not being able to resist the urge to engage in the ritual of gathering tools and cutting methodically.

Also loved ones do a downright terrible job of managing their emotions around a self injurer. It is a difficult thing to identify with. So while actively self injuring there is an ever present need to hide the injury. New marks become the center of life constantly looking at clothes to see if anything bled through. Turning the injured part of the body away from others when getting dressed. Keeping hands away when making love.

It was culture shock to see the pride with which those in the BDSM community bore marks. There was also a varied education amongst submissives when it came to coping with pain and injury. For some it was obviously healthy, a sign of trust within a D/s relationship, a sign of endurance, or a moment of healing. Others I observed undergoing serious injury with no real goal or intention, and sometimes without joy in undergoing that degree of pain.

It was then that I began to delve into me to figure out what would continue recovery, and how to have healthy pride regarding my past. I realized that my behavior in the BDSM scene had to come from a place of love towards myself. That the pain had to honor who I was, and that every partner had to honor that part of me. I also had to love my scars, I had to be ok with what was.

It is a humbling experience to approach all decisions from the perspective of self love. It is hard to look at meeting needs in a way that is positive and propels growth. It is also hard to recognize that in some ways we are all unhealthy, and that not all people are dedicated to their growth and despite our love for them, the need to love ourselves severs them from our lives. It was at this point that life became a journey, a constant acceptance between steps. It was then that masochism could be accepted as a need and a tool in working the path.

That December I had a scene that left me bruised from my neck to my toes. The scene didn’t come out of an established relationship, or mutually expressed goal. It was simply for the hell of it, to show that I could do it. There was a laugh in my step as I brushed my hair just so over my neck before work, when it hurt to walk quite right. This ritual of hiding was an old one, in a new context. It was fun, it was sexy, it came from a place of love and power.

BDSM became a place of healing. To me it remains one of the most powerful approaches to bondage. Affection shown through pain, tears and blood calls for more of the self than a kiss on the cheek. To continue on that path from a positive regard for the self and the partner is a place of strength. To continue on that path without fear and without bargaining surrender. When the elements of BDSM come from a place of love, that’s powerful.

Though I still rarely consent to scenes that involve a lot of injury. One reason is that I like to keep a healthy pain tolerance, another is I like to avoid damage to my body. More importantly I don’t wish to lose sight of the value of intention. Self injury starts from a place of “I only need to do this to get over feeling this bad”. That holds true for a little while, but then there is a recognition that self harm can assist in getting over other feelings, and that sometimes it just feels good. It takes more and more damage to get the same result. The initial task of coping becomes one of destruction. It becomes addiction.

For me to stay healthy injury in scene has to have value. Even if only I know the value, even if the value is only found after the scene is over, even if it is never spoken aloud. It has to have value. Much of BDSM involves changing our associations with control, pain, aggression and surrender. It is an ongoing process and I continue to find new demons to confront and ghosts to exorcise. Despite moments of discomfort the sum product is one of growth.

The shift in my attitude has spread to old scars, and I have no issue with my pride. To be where I am today with an ongoing commitment to progress, I had to be where I was. So much of my shift in awareness, so much of what has made moments powerful for me came from those scars. To be able to love them now, gives them value.

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