“I need attention like others need oxygen”

I’ve never been to rehab, but if I did, it would be for attention-seeking behavior. They say writers often do things on purpose so they can write about their experiences; perhaps this is true. I definitely have a treasure trove of stories that would take a lifetime to explore.

Since childhood, I have created various characters to play, immersing myself in at least ten different styles and personalities to captivate the attention of others. Now, when I look back, I can picture all my characters lined up for an amateur pornhub audition.

At the back of the line is a Harry Potter enthusiast, complete with acne and overalls. In the corner stands a punk rock teenager, adorned with rubber bracelets and headphones blaring screamo emo music. Next is a perfectionist prep obsessed with her looks. In the center, there’s a loud and attention-seeking party girl, while hiding in the bathroom is a fat, depressed woman.

At the front of the line is a neurotic marathon runner anxiously checking her watch. On her phone, a creative writer takes notes, and nearby, a stand-up comedian shares stories animatedly. The clean and sober girl is looking around, judging others, while the wild, manic master manipulator sweet-talks the director and camera crew.

My first addiction was definitely seeking attention, but I didn’t realize how much it controlled every aspect of my life until about three months ago. When I finally gained clarity regarding my underlying motives, I was shocked. I even found myself saying, “Shut the fuck up.” Discovering that I did everything for attention felt like finding out I was adopted or something.

Several years ago, my need for attention was so intense that I convinced myself I had Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), even though I clearly had bipolar disorder. After consulting with a new doctor, I was prescribed a stimulant. For months, I felt absolutely incredible.

However, things soon took a turn for the worst. As my energy increased, my attention-seeking behavior intensified, and the mania overwhelmed me. Whether it was good or bad, the attention I received became more satisfying than drugs.

While some people have multiple income streams, I had multiple attention streams. In the past, I primarily relied on risky sex and hardcore partying to get my dopamine fix; then social media became my new outlet. I went wild online, sharing my highest and lowest moments.

I shared EVERYTHING. It was fun, sad, wild, terrifying, gross, and shocking. I was cringe-worthy before “cringe” became a popular term. I became absolutely hooked on sharing my life with the world.

Much of the time when I posted, I was drunk, high, overmedicated, or a combination of all three. I often had no idea what I was sharing. When I was depressed, my online presence would slow down or come to a complete halt. Conversely, when I was manic, I would post multiple times a day. It was an uncontrollable rush. I would wake up the next day, week, or even year and think, “What the hell was I doing?”

A few months ago, it felt like my entire life had become an endless quest for outside validation. As I scrolled through my Instagram and TikTok accounts, staring at my “look at me” posts and videos, I felt both pathetic and phony. I decided to delete my social media for 45 days to observe my natural impulses and tendencies. I needed a break to discover who I really am, free from the compulsion for attention.

During my time off socials I took a mental trip down memory lane and revisited some of the craziest things I ever did for attention. It was a cathartic experience that made me both laugh out loud and shed a few tears.

As stupid and regretful as some of these encounters make me feel, I now try to bring a comedic light to them. I imagine myself as a director, editing these chaotic stories for a future documentary about my life. I sit back, eat popcorn and Milk Duds, and roll the tapes back to revisit my wild memories.

When it comes to the most outrageous things I’ve done for attention, it’s a tricky question to answer. Here are a few unforgettable incidents: I sent hundreds of nudes to men all over the world, competed in binge-drinking contests across the country, and even slept with circus performers and senior citizens just for free booze.

I flew across America for dozens of Tinder blind dates, ran thousands of miles, and performed frantic stand-up comedy stunts. Then there was the time I unexpectedly showed up at my best friend’s bachelorette party on a motorcycle with a guy I had known for only three hours.

I threw over-the-top parties centered around mud wrestling and titty shaped piñatas. I streaked through hotels during spring break and passed out in airports. I lived on couches, slept in cars, and broadcasted my life from a tent on the beach in Florida.

One wild night, I took a limousine to a strip club and left in a van full of Mexicans who worshiped my body like they were at church. I also got extremely drunk and had my first threesome after an unforgettable Nickelback concert. My constant sense of mania always gave me the confidence to make adventurous—and at times, downright dangerous—decisions.

Throughout my online adventures, I always felt like I was just one video away from achieving fame. Since childhood, I dreamed of being famous and often pretended I was. It all started with a bootleg Leeanna Pepperbottom YouTube channel, where I posted 10-minute bathroom workouts while traveling across the U.S.

I shared videos that showcased a carefree fitness lifestyle, even though I often had less than $20 to my name. I met strangers along the way and included them in my videos. I recorded everything with an old Android phone that produced blurry footage at best, but I didn’t care; I was almost on my way to Hollywood.

Along the way I picked up odd jobs and met various men to support myself financially. I had no problem asking for what I wanted—especially on my online dating profile. I’d say, “You have points, and I have time. Fly me there, baby. Spoil me. You won’t be disappointed; I always have a good time.”

I would request plane tickets, hotel stays, rent money, shopping sprees, cars, clothes, credit cards and cash. In my manic mind, I believed I deserved a wealthy life, despite growing up in a lower-income family. I imagined I had a trust fund from the universe and I took out deposits everyday. It may have been delusional, but it was incredibly fun.

I grew up in a small town in Northern Wisconsin with fewer than a thousand residents, and the only thing I craved more than attention was adventure. It’s often said that everyone dies famous in a small town and while I’m not entirely convinced of that, I do know that people tend to remember meeting me.

When I share my outrageous life stories, people laugh and call me crazy, and I understand why. However, there’s a darker side to living so openly. It can be quite embarrassing and shameful at times.

I’ve revealed many personal details online that I now wish I had kept private. I have old Facebook and YouTube accounts for which I no longer have the passwords, meaning my past is online forever! Given this situation, I might as well make the most of it and write about my experiences.

Now I consider myself in recovery from chronic attention-seeking behavior, which has been harder to overcome than past addictions like alcohol and drugs. I’ve started engaging in activities for my own benefit and cut out social media, which was a significant trigger for me.

Currently I use my online presence strictly to share my blog posts, focusing on privacy and maintaining a small circle instead of constantly sharing my life. The old me wanted to be public and even famous, the new me wants to be more private and peaceful.

So what’s next for me? I’m learning to be comfortable with quiet moments and embracing a slower lifestyle. For most of my existence, I was always running, chasing, and forcing things that never seemed to work out, but now I’m ready for a fresh fall start. I want to challenge myself in new ways, particularly with my writing. I have a big dream of writing a New York Times bestselling suspense novel, and there’s no time like the present to pursue it. No pressure, right?

As always, thank you for reading.

You rock and I love you lots!