attention whore

a story

this morning some stranger on the internet called me a narcissistic attention whore.

i didn’t want the comment to affect me at all… but it did. rage was brewing beyond my control. i was boiling actually. i had to move it. i had to embrace the fact that a stranger’s words had touched something in me. why was i so angry?

it’s multifaceted. the first part is that i spent 10 years being name-called and shamed for my expression, and i never processed it. so, some part of me still believed it was unsafe to receive attention for my expression in any capacity, like it was years ago. the body keeps the score, ya know? from what i can remember, i’d never experienced - that is - truly been in my body, to feel the safety present in presenting the truth of my desire in the moment.

here was my chance to process it - to give myself the gift of that experience. i chose to let myself in and ride it til the end.

first, i created a series of silly memes including a video of me twerking in response to this unsuspecting stranger. there’s something gratifying about moving through my own mess with such confidence that i can turn it into comedy.

acting. a theme of late. never before did i dream i’d become an actress, but then, i didn’t really know what it meant. to be a divine expression.

in the evening, He provoked me. just a little bit, playfully. more than enough to get me going.

role play commenced.