Thoughts on my flesh hook hanging

To say that weekend was good for me- is likely an understatement. As I finger the remnants of healing wounds, contemplating what is of merit to me, eyeing myself in the mirror having put on a few pounds stuck like glue to my laptop for almost a month, I head the words etched in silver again:Strength is not having to PleaseIt wasn't about the images. But Circle23 was there, so pictures happened. I vaguely remember maybe one image being taken. But I wanted to share this one.Furry watched on as Dana's tattood form reminds me of me- Black Dove's shoulder- Rev J was on the winch, and Circle23 was behind the lens.I breathed in, jagged, as they prepped to pierce me. I'd let Black Dove stay in the room, and Furry, but everyone else other than the piercers had been asked to leave. Everyone kept screaming in the other room, way to go- don't cheer for me. This is my triumph, not yours. This is my body, not yours. This is my choice, not yours. 2 hooks in I was crying, and I contemplated death. 2 hooks in and I tried to take 2 more... and had to stop once, twice, three times until I finally decided that the 6-hook plan just would not happen, didn't need to happen- this was for me, who cares if I don't go up- I'll just do a pull- that's fine.I had Furry lock me in the storage closet. I needed it quieter. This wasn't the space I needed. I needed solitude. Not crowds. The closet would do- I lay out my towel, stretched, had Desta tie lines to my hooks and I tied them off to a pipe in the wall where I proceeded to pull- and scream- and cry. I vented and let it all go. Family, friends, choices. I ripped myself bare. I looked myself in the eye.I keep putting up masks. I am too many things. I am a d20, d100, roll the dice and see who you'll see through the prism of perspective. I am TV girl. I am lonely. I used to hear them, and now, so much silence. I screamed into the silence. I screamed into the noise. I tried to block out the outside world, and realized I am too much a part of it to become a hermit. I wove my tale into the fabric of being. I rolled the dice. I looked through the prism. I breathed deep, I hoped, I cried, I prayed.I thought of unborn children, thought of the world, thought of unspoken truths, untyped truths, whispered words and fears that have no voice. I echoed back, and understood.I left my hobbit hole and asked the kids running everything whether the Red Room was available- seemed so. I grabbed Dana, grabbed Reverend J, asked for Furry, Black Dobe went for Circle23. I didn't plan on going up. I wanted to do an overhead pull, dance into my pain, dance into the pull. Clad in pink yoga pants (I wore pink all weekend, my fight against the black dress code) and a pair of leather gloves I danced. I danced. I pulled as Rev slowly took me up and I felt everyone's love and support. This wasn't flash. This wasn't the show of 24 hooks or a 1/2" spike through the cheeks. This wasn't consumable for the crowd. This was mine, and they were my guests. I asked him to take me higher.Up on tip toes time dances away. Furry's hand. A face. A red blue green wall. A white wall. A tear. A breath. Toes and up we go. Gone.I don't think I stayed up very long. I didn't hang an hour. I have no idea if it was 10 seconds or 10 minutes... but I know I could have stayed up longer- but i didn't NEED to. I did what I needed.I do not have to be amazing at everything. Thank you Shay.The only thing I regret is that I did not get to keep one of my hooks- it didn't occur to me to ask until *after* I was on my way home, and by then they'd been re-autoclaved and probably gone on to someone else.I have memories. I may have scars. 4 8g hooks, a pull a dance a hang. Somewhere between an Archanged (6 hooks in a triangle down the back) and a Suicide (4 hooks across the shoulder blade level), it summed up me- somewhere between angels and demons. I embraced both, danced, cried, screamed into the void and made choices to do what I needed to do for me, not what the world expeted of me.