Brittanie Shey @brittanieshey@octodon.social
Independent journalist, Houstonian, yogi, potty mouth. She/her. brittanieshey.com
I think my FIL got the #metoo memo. He didn't try to awkwardly hug me after more than a decade of me telling him I don't hug.
Can't wait for my in-laws to notice and comment on my new hand tattoo.
We took her to the park today and my husband got her to chase him. She started nipping at his heels so the blue heeler genes are definitely prominent.
Gus was a clumsy goofball who loved to cuddle and play keep away. Abby is serious and ladylike and has the most delicate manners and she lived for fetch.
It took about a week but my heart is opening to the new dog. I wasn't sure I could love her after losing Gus
I think part of it is she is coming out of her shell and showing a bit more character.
For those who wanted to see pics of the new doggo, here she is. She's part blue heeler, apparently part Vulcan and 8-9 months old.
https://octodon.social/media/hh2mUz8Q3Kgox2YF2So https://octodon.social/media/e9ouhm842QueC1MeADM
Haven't been doing much #amwriting as of late, been querying my eyeballs out since losing my publisher due to them closing the company.
I know a lot of publishing is luck, but man, it's disheartening to have to do all of this all over again.
Least I have an edited MS now and a pretty killer pitch. #amquering
It’s puppy day!
Maria's mom on Lady Dynamite is like all the worst parts of my mother and MIL combined. It is hard to watch.
We met a dog today. I am 100000000% in love with her. We took her for a walk around the block and I started crying. Now we have to go through the vetting process with the rescue — calling our references and a home visit. I am trying not to get my hopes up but I hope we have her before Christmas so my husband can spend time with her while he’s off. I love her. I never thought I could love another dog again.
I'm sorry if those toots should have come with a CW. I am just tired of perpetuating the silence, and today's election HOT TAKES have triggered me.
But each day I take a baby step across those eggshells. Maybe some day I'll be able to tell the whole story.
More than anything my family wanted to keep up appearances, regardless of what was going on behind closed doors. And I still feel like I'm walking on eggshells when I try to talk about this.
The last couple of years I've made a lot of strides i recognizing and healing form the abuse I endured. A big part of that healing is talking about it openly. But there is still fear. Fear of looking bad, fear of retribution, fear of another blow-up.
I want to write an essay about this but it is difficult because I am still peeling apart the layers of my own understanding of my childhood. Because shame and secrecy are the tools of abusers.
"White women ally themselves with white men for what they believe is their own gain, security, and assurance, while not realizing the harm caused by the internalized misogyny that fuels their cognitive dissonance and consequential support of men who abuse women."
But more than anything, I was neglected, while my mom chased me who abused her, in the hopes of finding someone to take care of her forever.
I was never the victim of sexual abuse, but I was often the victim of emotional abuse, and very rarely, physical abuse too.
I grew up with a single mother who was ALWAYS, CONSTANTLY choosing abusive men over her own children.
It's part of the reason the book Bastard Out Of Carolina resonated so deeply with me.
