You know that scene in Forrest Gump where he’s been running and running, and he’s wearing that ridiculous trucker hat with a beard, looking like some dude I’d probably date if I wasn’t married or afraid of hair in my teeth?
By this point in the movie, he’d been running for like 3 years, and had accrued a mass of people running behind him, Bob Seger’s “Against the Wind” playing in the distance, wearing 3 jackets because apparently only I sweat profusely during even the most casual of human movements.
Mama always said put the past behind you and you can move on.
The comforting drawl of his voice moves in as his pace slows, and then he stops dead right in the middle of the road, turns around, and decides he doesn’t want to run anymore.
I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go home now.
I’m tired, and I’m ready to go home.
Y’all, I have written this post so many times to you over the last two years, only to delete it and wait.
It’s looked vastly different each time; sometimes it’s really angry, other times it’s sad, others just a series of eggplant emojies.
This version is a little of the first two, no eggplants.
Listen, I am really unhappy and I have no idea how I got here.
I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror most days, and I spend, ohhhhhh, 70% of my day in absolute fear.
Sure, there’s the normal Brittany types of fear: Why does this mole look weird? I think I heard a ghost in my closet? What am I am I going to do after the series finale of Nashville, am I supposed to keep pretending I don’t understand country music in front of my sister?
But the biggest fear is you. I’m afraid of you. All the time.
I’m afraid to misspeak.
To let you down.
To disappoint you.
To not have the best answer.
To not answer your messages, dms, comments or emails fast enough.
It’s like I got into this habit of being completely consumable, and I don’t know how to back up or admit that I don’t like it.
I feel like I should be proud (I am) because I worked hard (insanely hard) to be here, but the truth is, I don’t know how to be here anymore. I’ve become redundant.
This blog was birthed from being alone and without friends or community, and desperate to connect as mom and as a woman. I wrote the posts after crying in the dark because Andy worked 2nd shift, and the boys wouldn’t go to sleep, and the only thing that felt good was to eat and type.
Now I keep writing the same thing over and over, and it’s not that it’s not important and needed, but there’s so much more going on with me.
At some point I decided to stop telling you all of that, and only give you the parts of me that were strong, “on-brand,” and tasteful.
Which is weird, because I am barely any of those things, especially the tasteful part.
Brittany: loves meeting women on the internet and irl, will happily be the loudest woman in the room, quicker to stand up for others than herself, often terrified of her own brain, gives better advice than she takes, sometimes hates herself, often times pictures you having sex when you talk to her because she’s a weirdo, can turn almost anything into a innuendo.
Lately, I’ve been a terrible woman. I’ve hung my success on the person I’ve let women tell me that I am, and they do, all the time, both raising me up or shouting me down.
I’ve been silent as women who don’t even actually like me, demand parts of me I don’t even allow myself or my family to have. And I have given it to them because I feel like I owe it to them for even entertaining the thought of buying my book.
All day I tell women that nobody decides their self worth for them, and fuck anyone who dares. And yet here I am, buoyed or broken down by the internet each and every day.
Guys, I am not strong and I’m not infallible. I am human. I make mistakes all the time, I learn things as I ago, this blog is actually a cringe-worthy record of many of my evolutions from less of an asshole each and every year. Go ahead, read it, I can’t because I don’t want to relive some of the crap I’ve said, and my ellipse use is annoying.
But, I learned to be a better woman in front of you, and spoiler alert, I AM STILL LEARNING.
I have to allow myself to do that again; to mess up and learn things in front of you.
If I can help you shop? Awesome, because shopping can be largely terrible, but I love it. Follow me on Instagram, I post tons of amazing clothes.
If you need a girlfriend to lean into, lemme hear it, I give the best advice with my bra off and a bowl of literally anything in my lap.
If you’re looking for me to be every single advocate you need for every single issue effecting women? I have to pass, but I’d love to give you the name of several other woman doing exactly the shit you need, way better than I ever could. I am learning to admit that I am not a Swiss Army knife, but that it’s equally important amplify the amazing women around me.
Going forward, I’m going to figure out who the fuck I am besides “advocate.” I’m going to continue to write funny books, raise kids, hang out with awesome women, wear clothes I’m too old to wear, watch shitty television, and I’m going to write about a lot of that here, in the dark, after everyone is asleep.
I know some of you might have a few questions, especially if you follow me on Facebook and Instagram, because my life looks a little bit messy these days, and I’m all vague and spilling on your carpet right now, so I’m going to try and answer a few things as best I can, but know, somethings I just can’t yet.
- Have I lost weight? I have, I’m suffering from severe depression right now, and it’s effecting every part of me in ways I don’t understand. This is an aspect of mental illness I’ve never experienced first hand, and it’s terrifying. I am currently trying out my third medication and seeing a doctor, and look forward to feeling like a person again, soon. But, I’ve decided not to hide myself while I figure this whole thing out.
- Are you writing another book? I am, I am fleshing it out now, and I hope to have news for you on that, soon. I’m going to never stop doing that, I love the fuck out of it.
- Are you moving? Yes, I am. Yes, I know we just bought this house two years ago. Yes, it was our dream home. Sometimes, you have to do things in life you don’t want to do. This is one of those times. It’s a big change that will soon get it’s own post after we close. Until then, we aren’t telling people where we’re going. And that, friends, is the complete answer that you are entitled to at this time.
Right, so what the fuck does this 2000’s era blog break down mean? It means that it’s okay if you don’t need me, or that video is king and you don’t even read blogs anymore, I’m still going to be here, writing for myself and getting back to my roots.
Whatever the hell those look like these days…