Several years ago, all of my friends were telling me I HAD to read Girl, Wash Your Face. This probably sounds condescending (at least I'm willing to admit it) but I always felt too *advanced* for Hollis's brand of self-development.

I'd been a devotee of Liz Gilbert and Brene Brown and Anne Lamott for quite some time. Those women know how to tell a hard truth.

Anyway, I tagged along on RH bandwagon simply out of curiosity. Little by little, her commentary began to give me a complex. I remember the day I unfollowed her. She posted something along the lines of "I don't believe in mom guilt."

That was it for me. How can you not *believe* in something that exists? That so many women, like us, trying to write and mother and do hard things and prioritize the unprioritizable, suffer from while we try to be everything to everyone?

At that point, everything my gut had been saying became crystal clear. This woman is UNRELATABLE AF. That is, unrelatable to women who have achieved full development of their prefrontal cortexes.

Functioning Perfectionist. Library Enthusiast. Recovering Lawyer. Stay-at-Home Mom. Not so patiently writing my first novel from five to seven each morning.

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