Three and a half years ago, I posted about demanding an entrance from my parents when I walked into rooms as a child. And not just any entrance—an announcement.
“And now, the Amazing and Famous Brittany!” they’d shout, and I’d strut around in a blanket cape thinking how lucky the world was that I was in it.
These days, I’m not feeling so amazing. Or even the least bit famous. These days, life just feels heavy.
Plot twist
It’s not that I don’t believe in my worth—I do. But life has a way of humbling you.
2025 has shaken my life like a snow globe. My personal life experienced a massive explosion, and I also found out my job will not exist anymore as of the end of the year. So between processing grief and showing up for my team and trying to stay hydrated and taking care of my mental health and looking ahead to the future, I feel like I’m failing at everything.
These days, I’m more likely to hop on a work call hoping no one notices how puffy my eyes are from lack of sleep. Calendar alerts replaced the applause. The blanket cape is now my duvet that I occasionally hide under to have a cry before getting on with the day. And the audience? My plants.
Becoming through the breaking
My first tattoo was a blue butterfly on my right shoulder. I chose it because I liked the imagery of transformation and resurrection. However, we need to remember that on a caterpillar’s journey to becoming a butterfly, its body has to break down inside the chrysalis so that it can rearrange itself into its final form. Transformation is not glamorous. It’s messy, painful, and confusing AF.
So for me, “amazing and famous” is now “broken and rebuilding.”
It’s letting people know I need support and asking for help. It’s saying no to things that others think I should want and saying yes to things that scare me. It’s screaming and crying into a pillow at night and allowing myself to break over and over. It’s choosing to keep going, even when no one is clapping.
Still here. Still sparkling (eventually).
I know this period of my life won’t last forever. Things will start falling into place again. Amazing and Famous me is still in there, and I’ll find her sparkle again one day.
But for now, I’m still here. Still growing and evolving. Still worthy of an announcement, even if it’s just whispered to myself in the mirror before another long day.
The recently-departed poet Andrea Gibson (RIP) once signed a Substack post with “Still Making My Way Out of the Cocoon.” I feel that feeling in my bones.
If you’ve also not been feeling so amazing or famous lately, I see you. And I’m so proud of what you’re doing to keep going.
