Please pack your things and go, auf wiedersehen

Photo: OWS by brittanyalice

I moved to New York in July of 2011. What led me here is another story, but I came here with some life experience and a feeling that I knew what I wanted, and I was going to get it here. I had my reservations about having a job that would “define me,” but I was willing to give that kind of job a shot. So I threw myself head-first into the job hunt, and was surprised and honored to be interviewed by a successful start-up based in the hip neighborhood of DUMBO.

Skip to the interesting part-- I got the job. I started on a trial basis, as all employees did, since the company wanted desperately to “conserve the culture they had built.” Pause to note that this “culture” was conveyed as completely gen-y, like totally edgy millennial jeans and tshirt type culture. Everyone was under 30 and highly intelligent. The first week of my employment the entire staff went on an outing on a yacht on the Hudson, complete with an open bar and sit-down dinner. I had clearly hit the big-time. But it was on this outing that I observed the first of many red flags-- everyone and I mean every single employee-- was white.

After that, the next red flags seemed to present themselves with more and more frequency. Everyone listened to country music. And not even good, classic Johnny Cash country, but that contemporary twangy processed country music that flaunted its ignorance and was borderline racist. Next, I began staying later and later at the office. The job required travel, much of which took up my entire weekend complete with shared hotel rooms in Bumblefuck, USA, 5 am wakeup calls, processed fast-food meals and very little laughter to lighten the mood. When I look back on my time there, I realized that I was utterly sleep-deprived and malnourished. I can only rationalize my staying there by the mere fact that I must have been hallucinating. That is the only way to logically explain the following situation.

As previously stated, the founders of the company were quite protective of their “company culture.” Up until this point, I still wasn't sure exactly what the core values of that culture were, other than making a lot of money and going out on yachts. So one afternoon, one of the co-founders took me out to a completely routine lunch, as they did with all new employees. Given that he was a former lawyer, and that I had many lawyer friends myself, I wasn't surprised by his devils-advocate style of lunchtime banter, but this conversation went way beyond that.

Our dialogue started off pretty normal-- discussing my background, our cultural differences (he was English), my affinity for English culture-- normal lunch conversation subjects. Then things took a weird turn. He began prying about my opinions of the upcoming American Presidential election. Full disclosure- I'm a bleeding heart liberal and not ashamed. However, being raised in the South by fairly conservative parents, I am sensitive to differing views, and believe everyone has the right to their own opinion. Therefore, I am used to keeping my opinions and statements fairly neutral. Plus, politics is not the most appropriate subject for lunch with your employer, amiright?

Nonetheless, the conversation continued, as he continued to egg me on. I tried my best to remain calm when he asked me how I would feel if the company donated 30% of their revenue to the Tea Party, but I was beginning to reach a breaking point. Rather than blow up, I asked with a slight hint of laughter in my voice, “Well, then what are your thoughts of Obama?” to which he replied, “He's a terrorist. Hussein? Comeon!”

So at that point I freaked out and left, right? Well, no. Shamefully, I did not. See above, re: hallucination. PLUS, at this point I naively gave him the benefit of the lawyer doubt and thought he was testing me! Doing the devils advocate thing?! Until the last minute, I was patiently waiting for the, “Bah-dum-dum-chhhh- GOTCHA!!!”

But it never came.

Finally, around 9 pm that Thursday night, I was finishing some work and dreaming of crashing into my bed. As I stood next to the printer, I overheard my manager conversing with another employee about some man. “Is he cute?” asked the employee. To which my manager replied, “He’s black!!” As in, he is black, and therefore CANNOT be cute. Stunned, I dropped my freshly printed paper and exclaimed, “WHAT?!” She was not kidding. And I think I sealed my fate.

My manager asked me to come in early the next morning for a meeting we had. This meeting, which took place in a dark storage room, was in fact no meeting at all, but rather a sort of, “Please pack your things and go, auf wiedersehen.”

I was told that I was not a good fit for their culture. I kept my composure and politely asked if they were unsatisfied with my work, but the insisted that they did not think I was a good fit for this position. And in the tearful conversation with my mom following my departure, the veil was slowly lifted from my eyes, and I realized what had happened. As I recounted the events that had unfolded in the days prior to my dismissal, I began seeing clearly that I was in fact, not at all a good fit. I didn’t believe in stepping on others to succeed and stealing ideas (as I had realized through internal documents was common practice at this company), I didn’t think people of other races were inherently not cute, and I wasn’t going to support an extreme political party. So no, I was not a good fit.   

Sans titre

Autonomous Together

I hibernate in the winter. It's one of my favorite seasons. My other favorite seasons include fall, spring and summer. Ok, so I like all the seasons. I like the transitions. I like that each season has its own defining climate, smells, wardrobe, nostalgias, holidays. I embrace the shifts in lifestyle that comes with each seasonal change. 


But since it is now winter, that is what this post is about. It's about freedom and independence and aloneness. Winter is the best time to be alone. In aloneness we can reflect on ourselves and our lives and prepare for the spring when we will be ready to put our strengths and plans into action. Yet through the dark winter months, we must rest. We must recharge so that we have the energy and drive to emerge when the sun and warmth returns. 

After spending a simple night in and waking up early to have an isolated meditation followed by a solo breakfast, I sat down to read an article in the New York Times Sunday Review, which analyzed this very solitude and its usefulness to human creativity and productivity. The article discussed the in vogue idea in current American culture of group work and collaborative teamwork and that contrast with solitary work and privacy. The article, which is a great read that should be fully digested, basically concluded that both forms of existence have their benefits, and each should be equally emphasized for their differing strengths and shortcomings. The writer concludes, "But even if the problems are different, human nature remains the same. And most humans have two contradictory impulses: we love and need one another, yet we crave privacy and autonomy."


The yin and the yang. The art of balancing human interaction with solitary reflection. Both are necessary elements to a happy and productive existence, but they should be alternated as needed. Listen to what your mind and body are saying and work and live in that way. 


Winter can be a good time for the solitude and quietness. It's a time to light candles, read books, drink hot tea, write, work on a creative project, or just power down and let your mind experience silence and calmness. If you embrace this idea, springtime will arrive and you will be like a little caterpillar, ingesting everything possible so that you can take flight once summer approaches.

My mom

Today at 4:48 pm my mother told me over the phone that she was having a glass of wine.

When I asked if that was a little early, she countered that this was ok since it is Friday and she was making spaghetti sauce. You can't argue with that logic.

Below are her last few texts to me for your enjoyment. The context is irrelevant. She also calls a movie "THE bridesmaids."

Pop Pop

I like pop music. A lot. I think my friend explained better than I could:

  James:  You like pop, and you feel very justified in liking it. Perhaps even OVERLY so, because you feel major resentment against "music snobs" who think they are too good for pop music, so you compensate by REALLY liking pop music despite how horrible or good it may be.But I respect your championing spirit.
  me:  HAHAHAHAHHA       YES
       YES YES YES
       Sent at 1:46 PM on Friday

Now, let us dance, shall we? 

Happy Pills

Anyone close to me has probably heard me speak pretty candidly about my thoughts on mental illness and my own struggles with depression. However I still cling to the fear of speaking openly about it. I somehow feel the need to "prove" to someone that I am somewhat normal before they find out that I take medicine to treat a legitimate illness. Were this any other illness-- asthma, a headache or the flu--no one would bat an eyelash at the idea of taking a pill to minimize the problems and pain. Even with the exponentially growing number of people who are taking anti-depressants, a certain stigma still remains for those of us who choose to take medication. 

I was admittedly reluctant myself to take medication. It took breaking up with my boyfriend, pushing all my friends away, and bringing my mother to tears multiple times before I would even consider such an absurd idea. It wasn't until my childhood friend, with whom I had never had a real fight in the then decade+ of our friendship, told me frankly that I was mean. She said it just like that. "Brittany, you're mean." She told me I was mean to everyone -- my friends, my family, the people who loved me the most. And somehow at that moment it clicked. I realized that I was mean. And I began to accept that, perhaps my meanness had nothing to do with some inherent evil within me, but rather a chemical imbalance in my brain that caused by to not see situations clearly and be unable to control my emotions. So I decided to give it a try. 

I saw a doctor who had me monitor my moods and feelings. It all seemed silly, and I kept clinging to the idea that I should be able to fix myself. When I looked around me, I saw everyone else's happiness, so where was mine? It had to be something I was doing wrong, something that I should be capable of fixing, with enough effort. Everyone else did it.. what was wrong with me? 

I'm not going to pretend that I started taking a little yellow pill every day and that my life turned around and that now I am perfect and blissful and married with three kids. On the contrary, I am single, I have moved from France to Atlanta to New York in the past four years in search of an environment that would allow me to explore true happiness and find a real calm within myself. I have not yet found it, but I will not stop looking.  

It was months after starting my medication before I noticed any sort of change. And wasn't until I had the hindsight of a few years that I could look back and truly remark a difference in my behavior. Don't get me wrong, I still struggle with the debilitating feelings of worthlessness that prevent me from getting out of bed on some really bad days. But at least those days are much less frequent, and I can see past the fog and recognize that there is in fact a light at the end of the darkness. 

Sometimes I describe my depression as a dark cloud inside of me. Even when I am happy, I know it is still in there, and I can still feel it. Sometimes even that one demented thought that comes from the fear of inevitably being depressed again can send me on a spiral from complete content into a dark, sad hole. And on some days, without even expecting it, that dark cloud will completely envelop me. It can sometimes hang around for days, or even weeks, depending on how manageable outside factors are. 

I do make a point of pursing any and everything that I know does make me happy. That has occasionally led me astray, as some happiness is so available and so instantaneous. But that type of happiness is nearly always temporary. Quick fixes tend to leave you worse than when you started, and lusting for something more tangible and enduring. I'm fortunate that I began taking medecine before I did anything too damaging. Controlling my levels of serotonin has given me the emotional control of the and clarity of realizing that fact. 

The clarity and control granted by controlling my chemical imbalances has also given me the patience and endurance to find other, more lasting forms of happiness, and healthier ways to deal with my illness. I try to practice yoga daily. I walk everywhere I can. I find it brings me peace of mind. I also voraciously read every book by the world's most respected philosophical and spiritual leaders to help guide me. I am learning the art of meditation, and I find writing to be quite therapeutic. 

Accepting my depression was the first step to getting better. Although I am nowhere near perfect, I can at least revel in life and not alienate my close companions. For a short period I wrestled with the dilemma of taking a chemical that changed my brain configuration and still practicing yoga and meditation. The two seem to clash. However, I know that without the medication it wouldn't even be possibility for me to be open to the type of transformation that yoga and meditation can potentially bring. 

One day I hope that I can find inner peace without the need for a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. But in the meantime I cannot deny the reality of its success in my case. And I'm slowly inching toward the acceptance of admitting that I do take a brain chemical regulator, without feeling a fear of judgement. But being on medicine gives me the clarity of seeing that it is ME who needs to get past that fear. And getting past fear is one of the hardest part of mental illness. 

Bio

Seriously, kids love me. 

Hi, I’m Brittany Alice. Call me what you want. Just not Brattany. It’s not new, it’s not funny, and it reminds me of when my sisters would taunt me as a child.

I should also probably mention I’m a middle child.

Ok, so this is my Bio. My little blurb about who I am. Ok so I am many things, mostly just a wandering soul for now. I am also a writer, photographer, yogi, teacher, and on occasion I work as a nanny or pet-sitter. (I’m really reliable and kids and animals love me-- what can I say). Anyway, watching other people’s kids or beloved animals is kind of fun and I’ve just sort of always done that. Like since I was 15. Plus I don’t have to have my own kid or pet and I just get to hang with one when I want AND get paid to do it.

In the past, I have worked as an English teacher in a French high school, an au pair, a waitress a bartender, and I also worked on farms for a summer in France. I also spent two years working for the French foreign government in Atlanta, and I briefly held a position as an intern at an extreme adventure race company. Surprisingly the internship didn’t work out. Something about me being liberal.