The Alien Girl

THE NIGHT BEFORE:

RAW THOUGHTS AT 2 AM

I am fucking scared. Terrified. I feel like I have zero control, and the minute she mentioned filming a video, where everyone will be sitting and watching how you dance… it’s the scariest thing I’ve had to face in a long while. I knew that would happen, knew that it would not be easy and that it would take my body time to learn—or perhaps, vice versa, it would take my mind time to learn to trust my body enough to move so freely and use all of my body parts to express myself in front of other people. People who actually know what they are doing.

I am fucking afraid. Afraid of being so vulnerable.

If you are wondering what I am talking about, well, I decided to start attending dance (high heels) classes. Because I can. Or no, because I don’t want to live any longer with the thought that I always need to hide my body—and myself in general—from others. That I am inferior, incapable, weak, plastic. Because I know that I am not. Deep down, I know that my body, just like the rest of me, is very expressive and has lots of stories of its own to tell.

I know that after years of shame—compiled from having severe acne, a certain negative sexual experience with a guy, thoughts of being too chubby (covering my smile with a hand, doing extra sport, going on diets, running because I hoped a guy in my class would think I was as cool as other girls, even though I didn’t even like him myself, etc.), wanting to have surgery on my wrists because my bones were a bit wider than the ones of my peers (I was like 8 or 9), pretending that I hurt myself when the guys in my class decided to test my strength (there is a certain object for that, I don’t remember what it’s called) and I did it better than any boy in class—simply because I thought it made me a freak… having eczema (that’s pretty recent), having a few other sexually related incidents in my childhood, and probably the most impactful thing—the one that I described in the first article of this series—my conflict with my mom… and so, so, so many other things, I disconnected 💔

Disconnected from my body.

I mean, it already happened when I was three, but it was kind of unintentional. I just knew that I was always super ashamed of it, knew that I could never enjoy being in it because that’s gross. It’s gross. I’m gross. How could something or someone so gross and dirty even think about being liked or being found beautiful?

But I am digressing. My goodness, that does not look like a structured article at all, haha. But it’s ok. That’s basically the whole point I wanted to make 🥲

So, long story short, it is only recently that I decided I want to connect again. And attending these classes, well, is one of the scariest things I could do.

I hate that I think no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to dance this dance perfectly, and everyone is going to laugh. They’ll think how pathetic I am. I hate that! Why? Because deep down, I know that all I hate is being imperfect.

But why? Why do I hate it so much?

Because my whole life, I’ve thought that only being perfect allows you to be loved by others. Only doing everything so neatly makes people find you attractive, want to be with you, find you worthy, etc. But that’s a mind trap. That’s why I write, btw, because even though somewhere in the back of my mind I know it all, every time a stressful situation arises when I need to perform in front of others in any way—ESPECIALLY if it’s with my body—I immediately forget everything. I descend into thinking how pathetic I probably looked and how everyone was really not enjoying this “show.” Then I find every single “imperfection,” and if we are talking about dancing, every move that I did wrong, and start blaming myself for it.

The thing is, though, deep down, I know that it’s silly.

My goal in attending these classes in the first place is to find more connection with my body and to discover something new about myself through it. Not to deliver a perfect dance with all of the “right” moves. Deep down, I know that those girls who attend these classes with me are not in any way my competitors. We all came here to explore our bodies, express ourselves, and have a good time.

My journey is unique to me because it is mine. Plus, that was only the first class. I know I’ll get there, but what I need to stop doing is telling myself that I am dancing for someone else.

No, I am a grown-up now. My body belongs ONLY to ME and no one else—not my parents, or any guys, or these nice girls. I did not come here to be entertainment. I came because I wanted to connect with my movements and feelings. So I shouldn’t even care about it.

But easier said than done, right?

Well, here are a few things I am going to do when my fear arises (fear of not just dancing alone, but allowing them to film me):

I’ll meditate, I’ll write a letter to myself from my body and my future self, and I’ll fully focus on my feelings. Perhaps I’ll also practice a bit to feel more confident, and if it gets too bad, I’ll tell the girls about my issue. I know it will all work out. I know that. It’ll be ok.

Love ya.

A FEW HOURS AFTER:

OH MY GOODNESS!!! THE BEST FEELING EVER! I went there, and even though I was super nervous, when I saw myself dancing, nothing else mattered. I was shocked! Even though I didn’t move as freely as some other girls and didn’t do all of the moves right, it looked AND FELT incredible!!! I’ll probably even upload the video on my Instagram.

WHAT DID I DO?

First of all, of course, I practiced a few times at home. It really helps when you feel like you at least know the material. Then, I also put on the music we were supposed to dance to on repeat and tried moving freely to it, just like my body felt it wanted to.

In order to do this even more naturally, I decided to become curious about the kind of person (woman) who would dance to this music—what story she would be telling through her body, what vibe/message she would be giving to others, how she would feel at the moment, and what kind of person she would be in general, how she would treat herself and others.

For that, I channeled that version inside of me and told her: Reveal yourself, show me what you like, help me feel. And it worked. Really worked!

It also helped to move my body a lot in general throughout the day, and yes, talking to someone about it.

Another insight I got is that I should stop saying that I am disconnected from my body. I am connected, because no matter what, we are together, and we are a team! It is doing everything it possibly can to ensure my protection, and I cannot not love it for that. But that is a topic for another article 😝💗

Love,

The Alien Girl