Thoughts upon recovering from a rope injury

I've been tied a lot lately and I think that I can finally say that I'm back to my full physical fitness from before the injury. It feels great to be able to be in ropes again without constant vigilance over what's happening in my body. To be able to let go like I used to do. 

However, being tied now is not the same. I'm not the same. This experience has definitely changed me. Fortunately, not in a way that I was afraid it will. I didn't become more cautious or more focused on my bodily signals. If anything, I might actually be less now. I think that I became more accepting of the fact that I might get an injury. It happened once and it might happen again. I'm not saying that I became more careless, but maybe less obsessive about it. 

Because when I got injured, I didn't receive any prior signals. It might have been that I was not paying attention, but I don't think that was it. I'm generally pretty aware of what's happening in my body and I'm able to communicate if something doesn't feel right. The scene was tough and I was suffering a lot. The position was not something that I am used to. But it wasn't more extreme than other things that I've experienced so far. It didn't make me feel like my body was violated in a bad way. And yet it did lead to an injury. 

Coming back to rope after recovery, I had two choices, limit what I do tremendously to make sure that I won't get injured again (which, in fact, you can never be sure about) or come back to the way that I used to do rope and accept that at some point I might get injured again. I went for the second option, which was my mindset also before the injury, but which has now become more mature because the risk is not so theoretical anymore. 

Rope bondage (especially if you do semi-suspensions and suspensions) is an edge play. And the nature of playing on the edge is such that you do get hurt from time to time. That's what makes the play exciting. But if you want the reward, you also need to be willing to accept the risk. Especially for me, since I really love my limits to be pushed, I really love to suffer, I feel like it's inevitable that from time to time something will go wrong. Trying to convince myself that I can prevent an injury from happening again while preserving the intensity of the experiences that I get from rope would be lying to myself. And doing that is limiting in my opinion. 

Realising and accepting the possible consequences and making a conscious decision to go forward regardless is freeing. The elephant disappears from the room. It also makes you realise how big value the thing that puts you in danger has to you that you continue to do it despite being conscious of the threat. I know that I would rather get injured again than stop having the amazing experiences that rope is giving me.

Of course, there are ways to minimise the risks. I tie with people who I trust and who, I believe, know their own limits. I work on maintaining my body awareness while being immersed in the tie. I analyse my bodily and emotional reactions after each tie and try to communicate to my rigger anything that I feel might be useful for them during (but preferably after) the session.

But… If I want myself and my riggers to develop, if we want to get out of our comfort zones, we need to move to an unknown territory. And since it is an unknown, you don't know what to expect there and you can't really prepare for it. You can listen as much as you want to other people who have been there but their experience can't really prepare you for your experience. Their body is not your body. Their mind is not your mind. Relying too much on their input might make you pay attention to the signs that were left there for them and miss the ones that are waiting for you.

However, if you stay cautious, self-aware, open and willing to learn, that exploration might lead you to amazing insights. Sometimes your lessons might be painful, sometimes you will need to lose something in order to gain something else. I think that now I am more aware and accepting of that. And looking forward to exploring the uncharted territory of rope bondage further. Because the real adventure has only just started.

Going through a rope injury-induced existential crisis

What was bound to happen, has happened. I got injured when doing rope. It’s not your typical wrist drop, but some weird strain of the muscles in my shoulder, which in turn compresses my nerves. At least that is what the physiotherapist told me. The technicalities are beside the point of this writing though (although I do realize that it is an interesting topic in itself). What I want to talk about is how it makes me feel, because writing about stuff usually helps me get over it and in this case getting over it is highly advisable as I am going a bit crazy.

I feel like my body is betraying me

Rope makes you feel invincible in a way. When you get out of a difficult position that you’ve been able to sustain for much longer than you thought you would, you feel amazing. You feel strong and empowered. You feel like you can take anything.

The truth is that you don’t. Even if your mind doesn’t have limitations, your body certainly does. Right now I am feeling its fragility very acutely. And I hate it. I hate it because I feel stupid and incompetent. I feel like the injury is my failure. How could I not have felt it happening? How could I push myself beyond my limits? And why do I have limits? Why can’t I be able to just take anything that is thrown at me?

I have a strong and intimate relationship with my body. I love moving it and feeling it move. I love all the sensations that it is able to provide me with. I love using it to become stronger. I love yoga and dancing. I love to exercise and to feel my muscles working. And right now it is all gone.

I put it all on standby because currently, I feel like I don’t know my body at all. It’s like when you’ve been in a relationship with someone that you trusted for a really long time and suddenly that person betrays your trust. You start to doubt everything they do. I feel the same about my body now. And it is killing me.

I feel like I am betraying my body

On the other hand, my body is just a tool. It is me who commands it and I am aware that I haven’t taken good care of it. I wasn’t listening enough to it. I missed it’s crying for help. And the injury is the result of it.

And even now, although what I should be doing is taking care of it and tending to it, so that it can recover properly, I can’t get myself to do it. I don’t accept the injury. I am just waiting for it to be over, but I can’t get to love my body in this state. I can only love it when it is in perfect shape, otherwise, it’s a nuisance that I have to put up with. Which is the case at this moment.

I realize that it is a betrayal on my side. I shouldn’t be so harsh to it. I should love it for better and for worse. I should cherish it for the fact that it allowed me to do such crazy things as rope bondage for so long. And I should accept and love it also when it is not perfect. Also when it needs me, not only when I am needing it. But I just… don't.

I am afraid that I will never be able to tie again in the same way as I used to

And should I even? Isn’t doing rope bondage the way that I do it essentially an assault on my poor body? Is it a loving thing to do at all? Can I do it in a way that will not cause another injury at some point? And if I think I can’t, should I get back to it?

These are scary questions because I realize that I don’t want to stop doing rope. And I won’t. But at the same time, I don’t know if I will be able to feel loving towards myself and doing rope at the same time.
I definitely have self-destructive tendencies and I am hoping that kink and rope are a safe way to unwind them without being really self-destructive. But is it really true?

Lately, I've been trying to push myself less and to be more accepting of myself in general. And I am not sure if doing rope is really helping me with that. Or if doing it is just tending to my old overly critical and striving for perfection self.

On the other hand, maybe indeed I won’t be tying in the same way and it is good. Maybe I will start to listen to myself more. Maybe next time I will say stop before it is too late. Maybe I will become a tiny bit more cautious and I will be able to balance a bit better the need to push with pulling out when I need to.
The only thing that I really hope for is that I won’t lose my ability to let go and give myself completely to the experience. Because that would kill my modelling.

I am afraid that people won’t want to tie with me anymore

This is another thing that really worries me. Because I feel like I failed as a bottom for letting myself to be pushed too far. And why would anybody want to tie with a bottom who is a failure? Am I unsafe to play with? Will they trust me that next time I won’t let them injure me?

I do realize that the above worries are a bit overdrawn. People make mistakes and I am a person. It wasn’t only me who is responsible for the injury and with this reasoning I should also not want to tie with the rope top who caused it, which is definitely not the case. I don’t blame them and I see it as an accident and a lesson to be learned from. That's when I look at it from their perspective. When I look at it from my perspective, though, I feel like it was an ultimate failure proving that I am incompetent and risky.

Additionally, I am worried that I will become more cautious and because of that less fun to tie with. I know that caring for my safety is important and calling for the position to be changed or for the scene to end is nothing to be ashamed of. My rational mind knows it. My feelings, though, tell me something different in such situations. They tell me that I am spoiling the fun and that I am a disappointment. And that if I will want to quit, my rigger will find someone else who doesn’t and therefore is more fun to be around. I know that only an asshole person would do something like that and if they do, I probably shouldn’t tie with them at all. But still, my irrational worry is there to entertain my thoughts.

Doing mild things doesn’t satisfy me

My injury is only in my left arm, so I actually could still do many things in rope. I could practice leg ties with people, do mild floorwork, maybe even some suspensions as long as they don’t involve my arm.

It doesn’t satisfy me at all, though.

And here is where my perfectionism comes into play. Because I don’t want to be limited in any way. If I and my rigger can’t do everything that we might feel like doing, then I don’t want to do anything at all. I can either do all kinds of ties or none. There is nothing in between for me that I would find even mildly satisfying. If I can’t let go completely (and currently I can’t because of my condition) I don’t want to tie at all.
Additionally, I don’t want my rigger to have to adjust to my condition. Why should they? Why would they want to tie with broken me anyway when they have hoards of fit models that could do much better than me?

I know that in the reasoning above I miss the part that people who tie with me want to tie with me and not just tie a body. So they might be perfectly ok with tending to my limitations as long as we are doing something together. To me, it feels like I am failing them, though, and ruining their experience because of my limitations. And that they must be doing a favour to me by still wanting to tie, but they definitely are doing it out of pity and they aren't enjoying it.

On the other hand, maybe it is ok if I don’t want to tie until I am perfectly fit. If I feel like I am not able to enjoy it if I can’t let go fully then why should I force it? My way of bottoming is very intense and immersive and if I won’t be getting that intensity because of the injury, maybe it is better just to wait and get back to it on my terms.

I can’t come up with something that I could do that would make me feel like I am still developing even though I am not actively being tied

So here I am, rope-deprived, watching all the rope pictures passing by online and thinking about the times when I was in one of those positions. Wondering, when will I be back? Being envious of all the models with their healthy bodies developing their skills, while I am getting rusty and out of shape.

Since I started rope, I have been on a spree of self-discovery. Basically each session would teach me something new and exciting about myself, my body, rope or the connection with my partners. I’ve been tying 2-3 times every week (at least), I’ve been taking workshops and starting to teach myself. I’ve been tying with amazing people.

I felt like I am on a path of discovering what rope bottoming is for me and what can I bring to the table as a model. I’ve been beginning to feel empowered and like I am getting my own voice in rope. And now it all stopped. I haven’t had a proper rope experience for weeks now and I don’t feel like lab time and dry practice is teaching me anything in the realm that I am interested in. I feel stuck and I don’t know what to do about it.

Maybe it is one of the most important experiences that I’ve had in rope so far, though?

Falling in love for the first time is easy. You jump headfirst into the experience, oblivious to the possible consequences in the shape of disappointment and heartbreak that might be awaiting you. You immerse yourself fully in the feeling of infatuation, every second spent with your lover feeling like a blessing.

This is how my relationship with rope has been until now. It’s an amazing experience, but it doesn’t last forever. Sooner or later things get tougher, you break up or you go through a crisis. Sooner or later you get hurt by the person you love. And, ironically, it is often those moments that shape you the most. It is those moments when you gain the perspective and understanding, which in the end allow you to go even deeper. If you dare.

So who knows? Maybe it is one of the most important lessons that I am going to learn about rope. Being outside of rope. I can’t tell right now, because I am still in the middle of it, but I feel that it might be. Because so far things have been too easy for me. And ease is never a good teacher. Right now I definitely am in a sort of a crisis, which I hope is going to make me understand what I am doing in rope even better.
To me, there is much more meaning in opening up to someone, after you’ve been hurt. It’s a proof of courage and strength if you are able to open up your heart over and over again, despite knowing how it might end up.

Of course, each time it happens, you become wiser. Hopefully, you learn from your mistakes and you get to know yourself better and chose your partners wiser. But still, love is uncertain and the risk of heartbreak is always there. You either accept it and open yourself up to experience love fully again or you close and deprive yourself of that amazing feeling, but also prevent the possible heartbreak.

In relationships, I’ve always chosen for the first option. And I feel that in rope it will be the same. In time I will tie again and I will give myself fully again. Maybe, in the beginning, I will be a bit more cautious. And maybe I will learn that it is ok to be. And that my riggers still want to tie with me despite it. Or maybe because of it? Because they will be able to trust me even more? Who knows? Only time will tell.