Thread by @ThePrincessMiki

THREAD

A few days ago, I solicited some ideas on what to include in an advice handbook I would give to those seeking success in the industry.

I’m still not sure if I’m going to go through with that, but I do want to share something today.

This is more for artists than fans, but anyone is welcome to read this — however, this isn’t a sexy post. Move on if you fear this will alter your perception of me. I wish human vulnerability wasn’t so taboo in my position, but I respect that this space is an escape to many.

I’ll preface this by saying that I’m not fishing for pity. I’m overwhelmed with the gratitude I have for everything this industry has given me. Financial security, new friends who are brilliant and kind, and my loyal, incredible subs who support and uplift me in every way.

Sex work has made incredible things possible. That belief, at its core, is unwavering.

Anyway, here I go…

I pull a “disappearing act” quite often. It could be classified as “burnout,” but the factors that lead up to this moment need to be addressed.

The first is creativity drought. In the final stretch of finishing a big project (my most recent being GoonHero), I slow down. Big time. The vision I have for a project in its beginning stages start to become blurry and displaced. I can almost FEEL the energy decelerate.

Guilt over my lack of productivity kicks in, and in an attempt to whip myself back into shape, I make public, lofty promises and assign unnecessary deadlines because I convince myself that the real problem isn’t my “artist’s block,” but my inability to remain “productive.”

When an essential tool you need to build something is missing, you can’t build it correctly, right? You might be able to hack your way around it, but you’ll likely end up with a sloppy job.

Creativity is the tool, and it’s the one that vanishes from the tool box quite often.

You can try to force and slap something together, but it’s not the same without that essential tool.

“But if the pressure’s on, I’ll perform,” I promise myself.

Eventually, I can’t hold myself to these deadlines, and now it’s all I can think about.

And this is where the pesky little voices crawl into my head, successfully convincing me that I’m lazy, a fake, a bad Domme, a bad artist, and that my time of success has come and will soon go.

I try to fight it by leaning in on gratitude.

I enjoy reminding myself that I truly am living the dream I’ve held my entire life: being able to create art for a living, AND not starve. I’ve built a successful business from the ground up at 22.

I’m young. I’m healthy.

I’m one of the few who are fortunate enough to float in the comfort of financial security during a pandemic that has wrecked the lives of many.

I have more than I’ve ever dreamed of, and I consider myself a very fortunate person.

But the tone of the inner dialogue can easily shift.

"What art career?"

“Art? Who sees this shit as art? The guys you’re taking advantage of by making them jerk off to it? You’re making porn, the easy way out, because you didn’t take the time to find a suitable career.”

“Success? Would your college mentors see this as ‘success’ when you brag to them about what you’ve been up to for the last 3 years? Making PORN?”

And when I say my family is proud, it’s true, but my mom has repeatedly expressed how it makes her feel when she has to lie to people who ask about me. I often wish I had something for her to brag about.

So now I'm back in front of the monitor.

What was once a project I was so excited to share with the audience who loves and supports my work has morphed into a screen that represents FAILURE.

Failure to finish "a stupid porn video" on time. Failure to achieve the “real goals" I had when I was dreamt of what adulthood might look like. A failure of a Domme. A failure to my family. I suppose this is internalized whorephobia.

It all feels pointless, like life itself is a waste of time if this is how I chose to spend it. The art I create isn’t even perceived as art by most, some clients even brush it off as easy work, and I can’t share it and have it be appreciated by the majority of society anyway.

Even if I’m successful in the community that welcomes me, what I do for a living makes me less than a zero in the “real world.”

And yes, I always contemplate retiring when I sink into these headspaces. This last one was particularly difficult to get out of.

How can I keep being a Domme when this is how I see myself?

Mind you, this is not how I think 24/7. I DO feel like Miki Aoki, a total badass sex Goddess. But more importantly, I feel proud of myself for what I’ve accomplished, what I have, and feel hopeful for what’s to come.

I love to share what I create, and receiving the love back is energizing.

I’ve become increasingly aware of my bad inner monologue because of sobriety from alcohol. Almost 90 days now.

It was the crutch I used to just shut up the negative self-talk, and well, like for many, it got out of hand. I was going to ruin my mind and body for the sake of comfort: the comfort of fleeing from my reality.

I’m still dealing with the embarrassment of having to admit that.

I hate saying I’m an alcoholic at 25, but I’m trying to lean in on the pride I have for the commitment I’ve made.

I’m now forced to reckon with the inner monologue that’s always been there, the one I’ve forcefully suppressed for the last however many years with booze.

I want to emphasize that it’s always been there, because sobriety isn’t what caused this. Sobriety woke me up to it.

For the first time, I’ve identified a core problem in my identity that throws me into these dark places: the lens I choose to look through.

I too often choose to look at myself through the lens of others, and when I say others, I mean everyone. Society. The people from my past, even the distant, distant past. The people I might meet in the future. Total strangers.

This all goes through my head EVEN THOUGH they’re not reflections of my own beliefs. I’ve always been sex-positive, surrounded myself with sex-positive people, always believed that sex work is real work. When I say believe, it was just the most logical belief to hold in my book.

Yet, these core beliefs don’t reach me at times I fail to listen to or trust myself. I have my insecurities, my doubts, my sensitivity to the darkness of others. I haven’t made peace with who I am, and I haven’t allowed myself to fully embrace everything I am and what I create.

I’m working on getting to the point where I can truly and always be proud of myself, but I want to say this to all of my fellow sex workers: I am proud of you, and I hope you are proud of you.

Our jobs are more difficult than they may appear, I can go on and on about that but you already know. I know you have to find the strength to be inspired and create when society doesn’t even think your work requires these things.

I know you’re disrespected by society for simply providing a space for humans to fulfill a basic human need. And I know you are brave for taking the risk of carving your own path, despite these things.

Check on yourself when you start to feel the lens shifting. Ask yourself if you’re being truthful when you’re putting yourself down, and if they are a true reflection of your beliefs.

Ask yourself if the lack of productivity you’re experiencing is something that’s your fault, or even in your control. The answers don’t always leave you blameless, but the questions will also reveal the blind spots you need to address.

Addressing these kinds of thoughts is painful, but it’s necessary to help expel them. I was doing everything in my power to avoid them, and that only made me lose touch with myself.

This is coming from someone who is still in the process of growing, not from someone who has "made it."

I'm not all that wise, but I can recognize my own patterns. If you share some, remember you're not alone.