Bar for the sickest Best Gore fansign has just been risen above the clouds. Props to the Best Gore member Huckleberry for these exclusive photos and sheer fansign awesomeness. Be warned, kids – the self inflicted cut and stitching stunts captured in these photos were performed by a professional. Do not try this at home. As Huckleberry put it, the pictures contain the healing process of a self inflicted cut, including the stitching (by yours truly). This is her story in her own words:
I don’t know if this is really Best Gore worthy. It’s not overly disgusting, and I didn’t die. I wish I had a broken leg or got run over and was able to share that with you but this is the best I’ve got, and I’d rather share it with other people who feel the same as I do.
It began when I was 9, as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Scratching scabs. I began to see a therapist. Around age 12/13, I began taking medication for anxiety. My father was deployed overseas, or away for training. I was great until my second year of college, having episodes every few months but nothing uncontrollable. I had a breakdown just before finals and suffered from sleep deprivation and auditory/visual hallucinations. After that, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and have been on antidepressants since. That was about three years ago.
In Alaska, I was 14, I cut because I was a depressing teenager who was right about everything and nobody understood me, but I was able to quit. Then about 8 months ago, I was in a nasty bout of depression. It was bad. Waking up with no motivation, not eating, wanting to die. It was like that was the only way out. I was away at college, parents were in the Netherlands. My boyfriend at the time was helping me so much, he was my last safety net; that support. He left me because I admitted I’d been thinking about other men. Later, I would also figure out that my Paxil reached a plateau, and was no longer helping me at all.
To anyone that hasn’t ever been depressed, it’s not something I can explain. It’s just every part of your life being dark.
In a state of hysteria, I got in the shower (easier cleanup) and not having the courage to actually slice, I stabbed myself in the arm. It didn’t hurt. I was shocked and encouraged, I tried again. It bled enough that time that I got out of the shower to admire it. When I washed it I could see the fatty tissue, it was yellow and revolting. I knew if I left it open, all I would do was mutilate it. So I did the sensible thing and threaded a needle. Pushing it into the skin the first time was the worst, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Bloody and with one hand, I threaded it together gently. It actually widened the cut because I had to push the needle through each side opening it up more. I got it tied up, and eventually people took notice. My doctor freaked. So did my parents.
I was put on a new medication, Pristiq and Ambien. I’m off the Ambien now, but on Seroquil. It’s all working out great, I don’t cut anymore. Unfortunately, I’ve channeled my destructive desires into picking at my cuticles until they bleed. (once or twice a week) It’s much less risky and noticeable, but it’s got that hurt and bleeds a lot. In reflection, I haven’t changed. I’m just being healthier about it… in a way.
Thank you Huckleberry for awesome pictures and your story. I just have to stress it one more time for the weak minded – do not try this at home, bananas. Any self inflicted cut has a potential to cause serious harm or even death. Gallery of pictures is below.