my kind of beautiful doesn’t involve pants.

i’m having a hell of a time trying to figure
out how to piece parts of my life back together after this
little phase of self discovery i’ve been having.

to put it ever so plainly, i started to feel like i weighed
a thousand pounds. i had so many things piled
up in my soul that i began to feel the weight of everything that
i was carrying. eventually, my knees buckled.
that moment was yesterday.
i had just got done doing some real estate
photography in the south loop, and was feeling so good about it.
i mentioned to  marty that i wanted to do more of it.
and then BAM! this moment overwhelmed me,
and it ruined my mood for the rest of the day.
marty and i barely exchanged words, and i put
myself to bed hours before him so that i could have some
time to sort through everything.

this was weeks in the making.
a few weeks ago, i decided that it was time to make
some serious life changes. it was a photo of myself that someone
posted on facebook that catapulted me into this mindset.
while the image was horrifying to me, i am forever
grateful to it because while i knew i wasn’t at the top of my game,
i wasn’t inclined enough to do anything about it.
that image. burned into my brain.
the britt who was hanging onto too much.
who was letting trivial things become monumental.
the britt with no energy. decrease in drive.
zero self confidence.
it was awful.
my 5:30am days had ceased to exist.
it was too hard to wake up and face the to-do list.
or the mirror.

in bed last night, i decided that too much of my
happiness depended on the actions and behaviors of others.
why?
i’m still trying to figure that out, but i think it has something
to do with the fact that i am completely neurotic.
i’m still slowly reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin,
and i am beginning to make sense of how some of what she’s
experienced actually applies to my own life.
everyone’s experience and journey is different, but there are some
parts of this book where i’m almost uncomfortable reading
because it feels like she’s writing about me. it’s bizarre.

i’ve been on this wild goose chase for years…
somewhere, sometime in my life, this idea that we have to know
exactly who we are as quickly as possible was nailed into my psyche.
and only as of lately have i realized what a crock of shit that is.
pardon my french, but i really want to place some serious
emphasis on how incorrect that is.
a couple months ago, i was outside on the balcony having a cigarette,
and i had this moment of clarity. it was terrifying and wonderful.
i asked myself, why aren’t you comfortable in your own skin?
i’m not. well, i’m not comfortable in my skin all the time.
i envy the people that are. i also wonder if they are full of crap.
so i answered my question. and the answer was that i wasn’t
always comfortable because i am not fully developed yet.
i haven’t become the person i am intended to be yet.
yet.
and as if i was conversing with a stranger, i asked myself
if you believe that we are always in a state of growing and changing,
how will you ever be comfortable in your own skin?

…and so begins a new phase of my journey.

•getting comfortable in my skin.
•making my own happiness.
•expecting less.
•giving more.
•and developing a better relationship with myself.
…and enjoying this time in my life to the fullest.
W.H. Auden once said, “Between the ages of twenty and forty we
are engaged in the process of discovering who we are, which involves learning
the difference between accidental limitations which is it is our duty to outgrow 
and the necessary limitations of our nature beyond which we cannot 
trespass with impunity.”

ponder that for awhile.
you can thank me lata.

• • • • • • • •

christmas ended this past weekend.
the only plus side to having divorced parents is
that christmas gets extended.
it was a wonderful day. the new happiness in my family
life really made the day + evening even more special.

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some of you are probably trying to figure out who
this little one is?

her name is Jocelyn.
she is my little sister.

my parents adopted her about 8 years ago.
i didn’t take this very well. and that’s probably one
of the biggest understatements ever.
i was the only daughter in the family.
i liked it that way.
from the very get-go, i was put off by her presence.
even the tragic story of her life from the time she was born
to the time that she was placed in her first of many
abusive foster homes couldn’t shake my resentment.
my father’s attention was no longer just mine.
i like to call this, only daughter syndrome.
most of you are probably thinking about what a brat i am.
and to a degree you are absolutely right. i was completely selfish.
and jealous. and resentful. and angry.

…but a couple of things in my life have really given this situation
a new shape for me. as of late, my biological clock is
officially ticking. we are still a couple years or so away from
this chapter of our lives, but the feeling of wanting to start a family
really opened my heart up to Jocelyn. in fact, it’s almost made
me feel a little protective over her. i see her in a different
light now, and i’m grateful to that because no matter how i justified
my negative feelings towards her, i always ended up feeling
like a complete asshole. and i was.
the other thing that kinda jolted me into new thinking
was the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting. i started
to realize that too many people are ashamed of their mental illnesses.
too many parents ignore the red flags for fear of rejection and judgement
from others. i don’t ever want Jocelyn to think that
i’m against her, or not rooting for her recovery.
her abuse began when she was 10 months old.
physical.
mental.
sexual.
until she was 3 years old and my parents saved her life,
she went through countless families who abused her.
it makes me absolutely nauseous to even begin thinking
about the damage that has been done to her heart + soul.
she’ll probably spend the rest of her life trying to overcome
all of the trauma she faced as an innocent child.
it became incredibly important to me
to be a part of her recovery.
…to be her big sister.

• • • • • • • • •

lastly,
i have a friend.
a best friend.
a soulmate.
her name is brooke.

and last night she reminded of what a gift friendship
is, and how important it is to have those few
people in your life who just get you.
i’m grateful to her + to the special bond that we have.
love you, b.

photo• • • • • • •

and to begin this year with a fresh + clean slate,
i took off my clothes and photographed myself.
i wanted to remember this day.
…for this was the beginning of the next chapter of my life.
a better one.
a happier one.
a healthier one.

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i’m not gonna wear pants if i don’t want to.

britt

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One thought on “my kind of beautiful doesn’t involve pants.

  1. i love reading your blog britt. you’re so fearless to put it all out there. and i wanted to comment on this quote here

    “i asked myself, why aren’t you comfortable in your own skin?
    i’m not. well, i’m not comfortable in my skin all the time.
    i envy the people that are. i also wonder if they are full of crap.”

    its funny to me because im SO FAR from being comfortable in my skin and ive always admired your courage, confidence and how comfortable you are in your skin. so even though you say you are not comfortable in your skin it has always appeared to me that you are and i’ve always been envious of it. you fooled me!!:) <3

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