How To Be 44

Chapter 1: No One Told Me About This Part

Hi there,

This is a big warm hug of a welcome to those who are just joining me here. To those who’ve been with me since the beginning: hugs and thank you.

Overflow Themes May Include: raising two Black daughters as a white mom and only child; caring for my mom as she died of pancreatic cancer; maybe becoming polyamorous with my rapper husband who is 10 years younger; friend crushes; perimenopause; desire; yearning for water; should I go back to school?; home school; being a late bloomer; questioning all systems; communal living; astrology as a new religion; Catholicism and IBS; removing plastics and switching to bamboo toilet paper; female rage; somehow trying to feel hot, healthy and sexy with a whole lotta bloating (from trying to go vegan), farting, gray hairs and neck jowls; traveling on points; moving to Africa; memory is not linear and time is a construct, and much much more!

This summer my therapist told me I wasn’t allowed to make any plans as part of my grief healing, so we went on an unplanned family road trip. It was pure magic. I miss the heat, the looseness, the time, the night swimming, the unknowns. The busy back-to-school and back-to-work season came on fast and hard. That’s where I’ve been.

I’m here today because No One Told Me About This Part - where I will lose my mother and grief will change my past and my future. No one told me I will build and re-build careers and fail and fail and finally find my voice and pursue music and writing and build Unsent and Three Things and offer Life Reviews for Older Adults at the Denver Public Library and write funny, weird TV about things I care deeply about.

This is the part where I am finally doing what I love! And. I’m 44. I trust in creating a foundation now. It’s time. It’s hard, but it’s so right. I’m in my prime and I want to be here for all of it.

And my mom is not here for any of it.

I found out she mocked me for signing up to be a Death Doula when she was dying. She said to someone else, “I think this is Job # 27.” She was laughing at me behind my back. Meanness is confusing. Being hurt by my mother’s ghost is confusing. I signed up for doula training to take care of her and myself through her chemo, cancer, dying, and death. (And to have some idea of how to move through my own grief.) I took care of her in so many ways throughout my life and now I feel abandoned by her. I keep asking her “why” at her altar, but she hasn’t answered yet. I wish I had read Mother Hunger way long ago! 

My heart breaks for myself as a daughter who didn’t get the nurturing I needed. My heart breaks for my mother who didn’t get the nurturing she needed from her mother, and for her mother, and her mother, and her mother….for all of us.

When I went to the Feeding Your Demons retreat at Tara Mandala, I fed my demon until it became my ally - a white horse like the one I used to ride in Texas, barefoot all day, lost in the pastures, happy as I could possibly be. But it wasn’t just the horse - my 7 year old self was curled up in the gentle horse’s lap. And then they appeared: all my female ancestors. They were light beings, soft and gentle, smiling, who slowly took shape and placed all their hands on the horse. Radiating healing light. This is the work. I am healing us, backwards and forwards. I can’t always tell what is my work to do and what is theirs - true - but I know this: doing deep work is more important than wide work. One person at a time. One ancestor at a time.

And yet, No One Told Me About This Part - where I always secretly feel like I should be doing something else - where life doesn’t stop and I can’t control anything. And. Where the most joy, laughter, connectivity and pure bliss is currently happening alongside the deepest wounds. Loss upon loss upon loss.

No One Told Me About This Part - where I lose touch with so many friends and I’m lonely but have minimal energy to find my new people I so desperately need. This part, where I will co-create a life and a home with a man even though I love women - where I will want to move to a bigger home but it’s still not time - where we’re in a land-locked state that has cold snow and I love the ocean and warmth.

This part, where I will experience complicated grief whilst experiencing perimenopause, where I will resist simplicity, where I will need things to feel hard to feel real. Where I will need to earn rest instead of taking that nap, knowing I will only feel relaxed and experience full body pleasure when I trust there is no one I have to be.

This part, where I will wake up every night at 3am because that’s when my mom died, where therapy is imperative, where I will finally start meditating and devoting time to the goddesses who make me feel held and nurtured.

This is the part now: where I let go and forgive myself and my mother, who isn’t here to make me soup, so I have to make it for myself - but only after I feed these kids, who are always hungry. (PS - my husband makes the soup.)

And there is the question of enough. Do the girls have enough jackets for this coming winter? Enough snacks in the snack bag? Are they signed up for enough activities? Will I ever stop being jealous of women whose moms are still alive? How many kids can fit in the pottery party space for Seylah’s 8th birthday? Or better yet, when can we stop the madness around kids birthday parties, which are the #1 reason Saxon and I fight? We are fighting systems all the time and these parties, these holidays, all bring up what doesn’t feel good to us, but we don’t know how to break free. Yet. It’s on my list. Like home school. Like moving. Like finally being content and grateful for all we do have.

It’s October 28th. Again. 

Do I celebrate the anniversary of my mom’s Celebration of Life, which was 1 year ago today on October 28th? I never know how to commemorate these time markers…she’s with me every day. On July 13th (her death day), we celebrated her life by going swimming, getting frozen yogurt, and watching a movie with popcorn. A few of her favorite things. It felt right to honor her spirit by doing what she loved doing with us.

I miss her so much. When I touch my chest, it’s so tender…so sore. My heart is working so hard.

THIS IS AN ACTUAL EMAIL I WROTE TO SAXON BEFORE I FLEW TO LA ALONE:

Date: July 28, 2024

Subject: Will/advance directive draft 1

Hi baby. I’m waiting for my flight and thought I’d put a few things down in case the plane crashes:

If I die all my possessions go to my husband and children. 

If I’m in a coma or have a terminal illness that renders me incapacitated I want a DNR order. I want to be alive and be able to be in relationship with my loved ones that is helpful for them. If I can’t do that you can let me go. 

You are the person to handle all my medical decisions on my behalf if I’m unable. 

If we are both dead or unable to parent our children I want them to be cared for by Carol Kincy and Glenn Ballard. I want them to be cared for by our tribe members / god parents and chosen / blood family members as follows: (you know who you are)

If I die I want you to know my life is valuable and cherished and enjoyed because of you and our babies. You have shown me what love is and given me a reason to live and make art and make our beautiful children. It is my joy and honor to be your wife. It is my joy and honor to raise our children together. I’ve had a beautiful, complicated journey and I have no complaints. 

Please tell the girls every day that I love them. They can talk to me anytime and anywhere in any way they chose. I will always be their mother and I am listening and here for them no matter where I am and no matter what happened to my body. I will protect them and look out for them.

I want them to remember to stay with themselves. To stay with their bodies. To listen to themselves. To their hearts before making decisions. I want them to live a life in nature away from screens and hatred. I want them to experience living in another country for a while and learn a new language. I want them to take risks and fall in love and make dear friends and be good to each other, take care of each other and stay close no matter what happens.

I want them to know it was my purpose in life to have the time with them I had. And I am so proud of them. Just for being themselves. They don’t have to do anything more or less to be perfect. To be loved. They should know the universe loves them. They are held in love. And love wins over fear. They are loved. You are loved. We are love. 

On my death bed I need to be by water. Preferably the ocean. You can compost my body into a tree. Water cremation. Be A Tree is an option. I want there to be an easy place my family can go to honor me in nature. A tree overlooking water or by water is ideal. A river works. I would want you all to celebrate my life however you chose. As long as there is music. 

“Such A Good Mom!” vs “A Good Enough Mom”

“You’re such a good mom.” Thanks! But there is also a thing called a “Good Enough” mom. Because I can’t just mother, right? I want to. But I have to work, workout, manage, clean, organize, make money, keep up with friends, make new friends, build community, volunteer, create, make this world better, compost and be completely present with them no matter what happens. All the while women’s rights are under attack and genocide is being live-streamed and people are voting for Trump and I just can’t.

But ignore! Go on vacation! Go offline but then no one will know what you’re doing, so get back on! Take SSRIs! Take sleeping aids! Take progesterone to stop the bleeding! Get a hysterectomy! Go on a retreat! Remodel! Purge your home and take it all to Goodwill! It’s you that must change, not the world! 

Well. Both. Both And. Same. Things are hard right now, for so many of us. It’s impossible not to feel this if you are tuned in and turned on. What to do about it is a different story...

I can’t always protect my children but I can help them through anything. Yesterday we were looking for all the magical fairy doors on South Pearl Street and we loved being outside. The girls were fighting and grumpy until they pooped and ate pizza and then we could enjoy the world again.

And then Nya almost got run over. This Lyft driver didn’t see us crossing the street and he almost hit her - her hand touched his car. He was on his phone. (Don’t use your phone when you’re driving! Everyone’s getting in car accidents lately.)

I was triggered all over again. Like when I woke up to find our sweet fish floating, burned alive by the malfunctioning PetSmart heater. Like when my dad called to say Gracie the dog died. Gracie was my mom’s dog…Like the night Nya realized I was going to die and we held each other and cried and made a plan to put “mommy memories” in a memory box so she’ll always have them because I’ll always be with her even when I’m gone. Like the night she asked me, “Why didn’t you just shake Grammy to make her wake up? That would have made her undead.”

Meanwhile, Seylah tried out 3rd grade for 2 days to see if she was going to skip 2nd grade. She was good academically, but she missed her friends, so she’s staying in 2nd. I get it. I don’t want to push her. I cried when I realized that if she jumped a grade she would leave home a year early. If the children are happy don’t change anything. Right? I always question school because it’s a system and I don’t have a 9-5. But if I’m always with them, I won’t be able to miss them. I love missing them.

Seylah and I are going to try home school days a few times a month. This Wednesday we’ll go to the Denver Art Museum to see the “Where The Wild Things Are” exhibit and we’ll do a whole day of art and reading. (Win win! I always want to paint and read.) She was an only child very briefly (I got pregnant with Nya when she was 9 months old - whoopsies!). Her body remembers this special time where she had both her parents’ attention, and then along came baby Nya. So Seylah isn’t a big fan of sharing. As an only child myself, I get it.

And she has so many questions, about race, slavery, what the “N word” means, and we need more space and time to ask these big questions and let the answers be big, complicated and confusing. Yes…we have to live the questions together.

Trying Not To Cry 

I dropped a 25 pound weight on my foot at Orange Theory and tried not to cry. No one noticed. They were all busy watching themselves in the mirrors. I kept going, didn’t want to lose out on my weight lifting time because it helps fight cancer! Sure, my foot was throbbing, but nothing can stop me!

Nya twisted her ankle at soccer. She didn’t tell the coach. When I picked her up an hour later she was trying so hard not to cry. She refused to tell me what happened until we got home. Her ankle was swollen and red. She was in pain. We went to urgent care. The same place Seylah went when she broke her wrist. (more triggers)

Where are we learning to hold this pain in? I only want to let it out. Am I allowed to complain, to be in pain, to suffer, when the world is on fire and people are being flooded from their homes and and and? Whose permission am I waiting for?

Voice Lessons

I’m taking singing lessons and I’m in heaven. My teacher says my goal is to be “extremely expressive while living in a softer place.” Um. Can I get this tattooed on my forehead? When I get a forehead hive it’s always a good sign. Seriously. Try it!

My teacher also said, “I think you might be trying too hard to ‘sing well.’ Why don’t you get in a cozy position and hold your throat to feel the breath move through your larynx.” 

Um, yes please! Throat chakra healing! Breathing! Comfort! I thought I had to perform, standing in the middle of the living room upright in front of the mic - and it was all nasal. No thank you. Now I’m in my chair and in my throat. In my body, out of my head.

DATE NIGHT

Since being so inspired by our (sold out!) Unsent Sex Edition, we feel compelled to expand our marriage. And, we are tired because we work and we have a 6 and 7 year old. We rarely get date nights, but we finally made it happen Saturday. We planned to go to this sex dungeon, but plans change! We were honest. Neither of us wanted to go. We just wanted to be together. Honesty is my favorite aphrodisiac. We went to a nice dinner and rode around on our new E-Bike in the cold night air (Colorado rebate baby!) and then made a bunch of music. Holding our throats. Singing together. Playing. Laughing. My heaven. 

I can’t wait for you to hear the music Saxon and I are creating in our studio living room. When it’s time…we have all the time in the world, no rush, but also I’m 44 and anything could happen so do it all asap….ahhhh!

The Past Is Present Today - so - 2 Unsent Letters To My Mom

October 2022

Dear Mom,

You’re doing chemo today so I can’t tell you this, but you are the one I tell things to, so: 

Driving down Monaco today Seylah sees my tears in the rearview and says mommy you’re crying. And I say yes today I feel sad about grammy and she says yeah she’s gonna die and then she tells Nya that we all die and Nya who is just 4 screams I don't want to die mommy am I gonna die and I have vowed to tell them the truth but there are so many truths that will stop them from being young and innocent and I want them to have so much longer than I did because I didn’t have long. And I tell her no we don’t die, we just change like these trees - look - the leaves are falling and they will become soil, but she’s like. No. I do not want to die. So I say ok baby you’re not going to die. And I give Seylah a look in the rearview like please baby let’s not right now. And I hate that I ask her to lie. And I wonder if I am ever going to know how to do this, if I will ever want to listen to music again. Read again. Cook again. Also I am sorry I got mad in the car on the way to Judy’s. You were talking nervously to fill the silence and I just wanted us to be quiet together. You said you yearn for the quiet. But we both keep talking. Saying the same things. I want to say a new thing. I want to know a new thing. I want to know you before you knew me. 

July 2024

Dear Mom,

I went to see a Tarot Card reader and asked about you. She said I was your mother in a past life. She said you were liberated now. I also got my horoscope chart thingy done by Ricky Williams. He said now I am liberated. Maybe everyone is wrong. 

Do you remember when you said, “I wish we could figure out what’s going on with me so you can get on with your life” and I said, or did I? I want to have said, “This is my life. You are my life!” I felt angry that it wasn’t obvious to you. It all became so simple for me. Not for you. I had no idea. 

Do you remember when I was 7 and there was the earthquake and then the fire and we had to evacuate both times and I was so excited I had my apocalypse kit ready with all my cassette tapes and Madonna trinkets and photos of us and seashells from Galveston and I was so excited for us all to just be together and drive across the San Mateo bridge to safety at Nana and Papa’s? That’s one of my favorites. Was that a nightmare for you?

A friend said she dreamt you were part of the rainbow where all life began. I want to believe this. So I will. If it doesn’t hurt anyone, I can believe whatever the fuck I want, even if it’s not true. Right? I am asking you. Can you hear me? I am yelling underwater. I can’t hear you. 

You’ve only appeared once in my dreams in your body with your face. Alive. We were in a stucco hotel room with white curtains in the breeze and you were arranging flowers in a vase and you weren’t anxious, you weren’t worried, you weren’t hovering to get in the “A group” on Southwest. You weren’t sick. You were so beautiful. I want this dream to be a memory to be real and be true and be present and be now.  

I love you. 

B’s

-

Thank you to auntie Linda, Lisa (happy birthday!), Tommy, Chelsea, Kevin, Fritz, Janice, Kerry, Deb and everyone who helped make my mom’s memorial so memorable and special one year ago today. I know she felt us loving her.

If you’re in Denver, please join us for Unsent - Body Edition on Sat Nov 16th! No matter what happens on Election Day, we will need to be together. 

Until next time, join me on our new Unsent Show Podcast, and as always, our Britt and Sax Podcast. Also please check out our Three Things website and join us!

Thank you for being here with me.

Love and boom, 

Britt