Performed Love

The embodiment of love... oh, it's not just our birthright — it is our birth. Love is who we are in human form. It is the original essence, the divine imprint.

But somewhere along the way, I began to perform love. The performance of love began to overlay the DNA of love within me — shaped by what I saw, heard, felt, and absorbed.

We come into this world perceiving every connection as an example of love.We make love.We break love.We rebuild it.Love deposits are made through every sense — words, silence, touch, absence, memory, longing.

But I began performing love the moment I unconsciously decided that the love I held within wasn’t enough.

So I mirrored what I saw.I modeled what I thought love should look like. I reflected back to others what they seemed to believe love was — and that became my performance.

It’s like I’ve been walking around with mirrors all over my body.A human disco ball — reflecting light, joy, pain, desire — back to everyone but myself.But underneath all those tiny mirrored plates… is the real me.The embodiment of love.

And that love… it isn’t solid.

It isn’t scripted.

It isn’t performative.

It’s fluid.

It’s open.

It’s eternal.

So the question: Where in my life have I performed love instead of embodying it?

My honest answer? Everywhere.

I’ve performed self-love — by doing the things others said should prove I love myself. I’ve performed love in marriage, in family roles, at work, and even in friendships.

It was all so… costumed.“Act as if,” they say. “Fake it till you make it.”But that’s not love. That’s survival. That’s self-manipulation dressed up as transformation.

I’ve never resonated with the faking of love. Because love, to me, has always been a truth — and faking truth feels like betrayal.

So what was I afraid would happen if I stopped performing?

That I would be misunderstood.That my love wouldn’t be seen as real.That my softness would go unnoticed.That I would go unseen.That no one would recognize the quiet, radiant truth of me.

Because many haven’t yet learned how to recognize love in its purest form.

But I have. And I know what it feels like:

• It resonates in the body.

• It feels safe and unforced.

• It aligns with the mind as truth.

• It touches the soul with sacred connection.

And still… my deepest fear whispers: What if I never fully experience that kind of love in this lifetime?

Because if I stop performing…Will anyone truly see me?

And if they don’t see me…Do they ever really see love?