to survive overcoming your survival instinct, to know that you have the power to bypass the filter in your brain that preserves you, to have full faith in knowing you can take a leap of faith, its an interesting feeling of control. its power. its discipline.

how does one get to that point, or better yet... why would you want to? why would someone want to go against their very nature to do something that objectively harms them, something that hinders their survival? its an overpowering instinct were all built with for a reason.

i posed these questions to myself for a long time. i messed around with the idea of cutting off my own finger for most of my life, for many different reasons, but unanimously for one goal—to provide clarity to a lot of questions i had. i knew the questions, but not the answer.

i never had an issue going down to my bone with a razor, or taking enough drugs to accidentally od.. yet, when i actually wanted to open the door and put a final end to all of my suffering, the door wouldnt budge. i could hurt myself all i wanted to, but never when it mattered.

this made me pose a question to myself that i wanted an answer to: was i simply failing to kill myself, or is there an underlying reason behind why i—someone who is horribly destructive and intensely capable—find myself unable to pull the trigger on my life?

to kill myself is to overcome my innate survival instinct. the same one that stops me from irreparably damaging myself in nonlethal ways, too. this differs from a razor to a skin... that will heal. my body will recover from the drug abuse. however, an amputation...?

this was the question i was desperate to answer. if i could do something as detrimental as removing my own finger... permanently hindering my life forever and effect the main sources of happiness i had at the time... then it was not me failing to overcome my instinct.

that alone would be proof that some part of me was desperate to live, even if i didnt know what for. at the time, i didnt think that, however. i thought i was completely apathetic, nihilistic, i thought i was only alive because it was less bothersome than going through suicide.

proving there was some desire to live would allow me to work forwards with that information, to figure out what it is that my subconscious is chasing in life, to establish the long term goals and finally structure my life into one that confidently sees the next day happening.

so, with the idea locked in, it was now time to figure out how... or what... or when...? so, i got to work. i wanted to have every chapter of this act be something that was symbolic to me, and that provided the most meaning.

i started with the how, and kept it simple. id be doing it with nothing more than a blade, in order to solidify that it really was me bypassing my instinct. this meant no shortcuts, or easier/less painful methods. i decided to use a small cleaver.

the what came next, and it was the easiest solution for me: my left ring finger. why that finger, and why specifically left? is it because its the least intrusive finger to lose? maybe to cosplay an assassin in a creed? no, it had a much deeper meaning to me.

as someone born with and raised around intense anti-social personality disorder, it had a stronghold over me when i was younger. for all intents and purposes, i was a medically diagnosed sociopath, and this self-fulfilling prophecy'd my way into sabotaging many relationships.

i was unable to feel love, and i chose the part of me that is most tied to those feelings. "the direct line to the heart," they say. however, this was not to commit to the idea of being a cold, unloving creature—rather, the opposite.

severing this finger would severe my connection to the idea of internal, subconscious love... an idea that you can only care for people if you produce those feelings subconsciously. instead, it was proving to myself that even without empathy, i can find my own way to love.

regardless of the ability to feel natural empathy, you can always condition yourself to care for people, to not have relationships be transactional, to give people everything love provides regardless of if you artificially produce it. its a visual symbol of my machinated empathy.

furthermore, i was religious at the time, and found myself encouraged to separate myself from ideas like marriage, as well as pushed to explore self-discipline and willpower, all things removing this finger would enact.

so, it finally came down to the last deciding factor—when. when? i mean, when is the best time? how can you not just convince yourself youll eventually do it, but not just keep putting it off forever? how long does it even take to mentally prepare yourself to do that?

like the "what", i tried to keep it simple. ill do it when i turn 18, and no later. this gave me about two full years to fully condition myself towards it, and think this irreversible act all the way through. so, i let the time pass.

i soon found myself in my last few weeks of being 18. i knew it was time. i dont think any part of me was hesitant or regretful, but i was scared. not scared of the act, but scared that i would somehow fail, and get the answer to my questions that i didnt want.

at the start of november, i ordered the cleaver. it arrived a few days later, and after having a pretty good day, it just felt right. i grabbed the package i had just received, i opened it, and i laid out all my materials. it was happening now. i never felt so clearheaded.

after collecting gauze, paper towels, and something to go between the table and my hand, i simply got to work. i sat there for a few minutes thinking about how id do it, but knew that once i made my first strike, the follow-through was guaranteed.

so, i did it. with my finger splayed, the cleaver slammed into it as hard as i could manage... and barely went through the skin. well, shit. i hesitated for a moment, but immediately realised that despite the superficial cut, i could not move my finger. i guess i have to commit?

the blood loss was manageable, but it was enough to put me into shock. i had no idea shock was a physical response to blood loss, so i found myself asleep for about half an hour before waking back up to resume taking care of my hand.

now, up until this point, i hadnt felt any pain. it was almost surreal, and barely crossed my mind. the striking, the sawing, none of it hurt. none of it was scary. however, the worst pain i experienced did happen that night, and it was removing the bandage.

imagine the feeling of your insides, your own bone, dried to the gauze that youre now ripping off. it wasnt pleasant. i did this every couple hours for the first day or two, and then slowed it down, until eventually going to a hospital a full five days later.

they sawed the bone down, stitched it together, and that was it. it took a few hours, and i now had the answer to my question: yes, i could overcome my survival instinct. i choose to stay atop a building not for fear of death, but desire to live. i could now look for that desire.

adjusting was simple. phantom feeling went away after a couple days and only triggered when doing an action that used that finger in muscle memory sometime prior. i learned how to move around in games again, i started typing right, all things considered it was an easy transition.

its been five years now. five years since the most pivotal moment in my life, and i have never gone on to regret it once. it showed me that i value life, it proved to me my own discipline, its a show of strength. i can look at my hands and see proof of my drive, my willpower.

its gone on to shape my identity, both figuratively, but also literally—with the name of Nine... a name i found placed upon myself by someone close to me that would act as the most authentic identity ive had. ive had many names, and none hold deeper meaning than being little Nio.

@jitukayo how are you gonna wear a wedding ring with no finger for it? :(

@nsuuyo Thanks for making me realise I'm not nearly as thick skinned as I thought. Just thinking about getting my finger close to a sharp blade makes my stomach hurt. And thanks for making me appreciate my body more.

@nsuuyo @shibawri Incredibly insightful post. Also takes insane bravery to share something like this. Good to see your recovery as well

@nsuuyo This was a very good read, thanks for sharing (I feel weird giving compliments over this idk). But it feels very literary, something I can imagine characters in fiction doing, or a philosopher describing in the abstract, it's crazy to me that it's real