brittany nicole

Equipped to Carry More is a reflective series about growth, leadership, healing, pressure, identity, and learning how to navigate the weight life places on us without losing ourselves in the process.

First, I just want to say I’m grateful to be back on the blog. Thank you to everyone who continues to show love and engage with my work. Gratitude is something I’ve carried in my heart since I was a little girl.

Now back to where I left off from part I, And in 2026…

I find myself intentionally doing the work to heal younger Brittany. Really owning my truth, unpacking how things make me feel, and releasing the pressure to constantly please others in the process.

I was born into a single parent household. My mom had me at 23 years old. I’m sure she had to be nervous and unsure about what the future would hold. She was still living at home with her mom at the time.

But she prepared for me. She moved out. She saved. She prayed. She stepped into the responsibility of motherhood, even when she didn’t feel fully ready.

My father was not present in the same way. And while I understand now that his absence came from his own battles, as a child I didn’t understand things from his perspective.

I was born three days before my mother’s birthday and I’ve always joked that I was the best and most expensive gift she ever gave herself – before my sister came along 2 years later.

I remember as a little girl living in this tiny apartment but it felt like home. Our safe place.

I also remember the moment my childhood innocence was cracked. I witnessed my father throw a Hawaiian Punch bottle down the street after a disagreement he and my mother were having outside. I had to have been six or seven years old. I cried, and I cried.

My mother told me not to worry.

I also remember her telling my father he was not allowed back at her place of residence.

He took that literally because I didn’t see much of him after that incident.

I know for a fact that I would have been a daddy’s girl and I think for awhile, I blamed my mother that I wasn’t given the opportunity to be just that. It took me years to understand that the responsibility was never hers to carry alone.

My father passed away in 2020 and I attended his funeral to honor his legacy. Not because he was perfect, but because he was still my father deserving of respect.

Was he absent? Yes.

Was he inconsistent? Yes.

Did he fall short of what I needed him to be? Also yes.

But my mother never spoke ill of him. She never tried to turn me against him. In fact, she often encouraged me to keep trying, to keep giving him grace.

About two or three years before he passed, I was given an assignment by pastor at the time: to call our parents and pray with them – especially the ones who weren’t present.

I knew immediately God was talking to me on the last part.

I talk to my mom every day still so I knew calling her would be easy.

I guess luckily for my father sake, I was in a season of my life where I couldn’t afford to be disobedient.

So I called him.

I told him I forgave him. I told him I held nothing against him. I wanted him to be able to walk in that forgiveness freely, without shame attached to it.

And he was grateful.

So much of my upbringing is still hard to explain.

But so much of it has also taught me gratitude.

My mother worked two jobs. She was firm. She refused to let me settle. She just did what needed to be done, even when it was heavy.

My father wasn’t ready. I never understood it as a child. I just knew at a young age I carried his last name and parts of me were replicas of him which made his absence more complicated.

He missed out because he lived in doubt of his own capabilities based upon his own troubles with his childhood.

I now understand that people often repeat what they have not healed.

And my one promise to myself: To not live in doubt. No regrets. No shrinking.

That mindset is part of what helped me overcome imposter syndrome as an adult.

I don’t know how the selection process works on God’s end when it comes to picking your family, but I’ve never regretted where I come from. Some days I just wish the people who shaped my story could see who I’ve become because of it.

Somebody who is still becoming.

Somebody still adjusting.

Somebody still healing.

If you feel shame when you think of your upbringing, I hope you also learn to see the strength in what it produced in you.

I’m still learning how to carry all off my truth without losing myself in it.

Sometimes being equipped to carry more feels so unfair.

And truthfully… sometimes it is.

#BNspired2day