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...& Sometimes Y

We have all been there, looking at someones name unsure of how to say it.

Trying to remember the rules for vowels, letters, and then somehow spontaneously remembering your freshman Algebra class.

Add the curve ball and uncertainty of numbers and does that impact the pronunciation?


You finally decide to throw caution to the wind and wing it.

There is a 50/50 chance you get it right.

All of the confidence bubbles to the surface, now is your moment, you have one chance to do it right.

You panic, freeze, and all the letters become numbers and you are thinking “This is Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Susie” and you botch the entire thing.

Now, I know that is an oddly specific example, so this might just be an example of “Brittneys’ Theory on Life” in action.

Through a series of unfortunate events I ended up in the hospital this week.

I was startled awake by a surgeon using his best bed side manner for an early Tuesday morning procedure.

He used his most polite, reassuring, and cheerful greeting and said...


“Hey Angela, are you ready for surgery?”

(Now, for anyone who knows me knows, I am not a morning person, not even remotely close to one)


So half awake and probably realistically 80% groggy I look at this man and let him know my name isn’t Angela.

We went back and forth a couple of times (in a manner that I hope was polite on my end) and he recognized he had the wrong room and left.

For a brief second, I paused because of my heavily groggy mind and thought “Do I know my name?”

I took a deep breath and then remembered that yes, I was in fact correct.

My name is not Angela.

I went back to sleep and woke up several hours later and briefly thought through the scenario that played out just a few hours prior.

How often do we as women get caught up in our present circumstances and the conviction of others that we pause and question who we are?


Moments where our identities become so engulfed in the day to day that we lose sight of who we are to our core.


Moments that we allow to derail our lives to the point that we look in the mirror and struggle to recognize who is looking back at us.

Moments where we allow the expectations of others and society to out weigh the truth that we preach to our daughters, sisters, friends, and young women.

How often do we freeze in the moment when asked to introduce ourselves?


How often do we falter to embrace the conviction that behind closed doors we posses when describing all we can bring to the table?

How often do we panic at truly and freely embracing our calling, gifting, and all that we are?


How often do we allow letters to become an infinite string of numbers and ever evolving and complex equations?


How often do we own the weaknesses, munitions and failures of others?


Wearing them as our own while also embodying the grief, pain, and sometimes guilt as our own.

In the most unhealthy of ways.

So I encourage you to ditch the anxiety and fear of getting it wrong.

Embrace the potholes of the journey!


In those moments of challenge, I dare to say that they give clearer definition, clarity, and confidence to understanding the phonetics of who we are.

Your name and/or your identity should never be something that gives way to moments of uncertainty.

My name has 8 letters, 5 constenants, 2 (possibly 3) vowels, 0 numbers.

I can confidently say that I am quirky, sarcastic, ambitious, dramatic, courageous, and all things unpredictable.


But, without panic or freezing I can say that I will never back down from a fight!


More importantly I will always show up for myself and the women in my life!


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