Diary - Thursday, August 9th, 2001

Sharp edges

Last night I had another session with Claudia. The worst one yet, really - work over my sides, along the side of my spine, and the sides of my ribs. In fact, it was so agonising that I had to call an early stop to the session after only an hour and a half or so, which disappointed me. I had thought I was braver than that.

From the first moment it was almost impossible to take, and it never really relaxed from that point on in. Sometimes, I swear, it feels as though the needles are blunter than at other times. The effect of this is a much rougher kind of pain, which is considerably harder to bear. As well, I hate people touching my sides unless the pressure is very diffuse, such as during a hug. I have been known to hit or deliberately scratch people that tickle me there to stop them. I can't comprehend wanting people to touch one's sides - almost any sensation is painful there.

So she switched from the left side to the right, to try and see whether I was just more sensitive in one place than another. No, it was just as bad.

I suggested she try colouring - that usually hurts less. So she loaded up the wide gun with red and went for it.

Awful.

Finally I had to pull it to a halt.

"I'm sorry, I really am...but I can't do it tonight."

I had taken pain killers before the session, ones that would not interfere with blood clotting, because I knew it would be a rough one, but I think they effected my mind adversely. Without a clear head, I could not control my body as well. I started shaking at the beginning of the session, and by half way through the trembling was so violent that my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. I could stay a little still if I managed to convince my fingers to grab something, but they were not obeying the signals correctly. I almost had to jerk them off anything they did hold onto, because uncurling them was so difficult.

During the break in the middle I found I'd cut a single curve into the palm of one hand with a nail. I hadn't felt it at the time, or realised that I even had my fist clenched.

When it stopped, I felt sick. I still feel sick this morning, ill and tired and burnt. Not a hint of the endorphin rush, or the sense of achievement and completion I normally have. Just a feeling of disappointment in myself, burnt pain in my skin, and a queasy sensation in the stomach. I washed the new colour and the shower made me late for work, but I lacked the energy to look at it in the mirror.

I have to do better than this if I want this finished in the next few months.