tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172400639609225302024-03-13T11:01:07.456-04:00the house of miss birdieBirdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-21168545140264412252020-02-12T12:36:00.003-05:002020-02-12T12:36:55.112-05:00Cancel Culture: The Ultimate BullyI was going through my 2020 schedule for event bookings and felt compelled to add as a disclaimer that I don't participate in political or religious discussions. Call me old fashioned, it's none of your business how I feel about God or Government. Don't get me wrong, I have a strong viewpoint but I won't be baited into having it and telling you about it. There are millions of people that feel that way.<br /><br />Once upon a time, people (famous and not famous) were able to use Social Media to vent. To say what they wanted with no fear. You could Tweet, Post, picture, video your opinions and positions, say what they ate, wore, what was going on with their day; whatever. Phones were even made to make this access easier. And whether people either liked it or didn't, everyone went about their day and none were the wiser.<br />
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Until one day, years later, a dark, internet soldier decides to dig deep, like 10 years deep into your background, actually looking for where and when you chose to say or do something millions of people agreed with at the time, but is no longer PC or proper by today's standards. It doesn't even have to be something that you believe in today. You could have changed your mind or gotten enlightened in some way. But what you said is a record, frozen in time, waiting for them to pluck it out of suspended cyberspace in that moment of trying to make a name for themselves as an "internet journalist" or "overnight activist" that now they will lead the charge in making you the example of what's wrong with the world right now.<br />
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No one questions this person's motives. The person may just not like your face, body, voice, even your name. The fact that they felt fat/skinny in the 5th grade, not good enough at some point, was bullied, felt small when they were in that dark place; YOU ARE THE REASON for the ills of their world and quickly convince others of that fact.<br />
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They do this by reminding the world of what you said or did in a random moment and decide that at that moment is when they play judge and jury with your livelihood. Now the people with pitchforks and twitter fingers decide that YOU are the catch of the day.<br />
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YOU, someone that works hard to get what you have, struggles amongst all obstacles, wake up one morning to find that the world hates you. Because you stand for their pain. Never mind that you are a human. A person that lives and breathes as they do and now your children aren't even safe and you're on a 24 hour suicide watch. You didn't hurt them personally, you don't even know them personally. Hell, they don't even know you personally and it can be a snippet or half of a sentence that the context gets twisted. It doesn't matter, they won't even ask your viewpoint or even if you still feel that way. Even if you apologize, it's not enough. If they don't like your apology, it makes things worse.<br />
They don't care. You must pay.<br />
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I wrote a book 20 years ago for children, "Why Do They Pick On Me?" In that story, a child is hurt in many ways by peers and strangers and is wondering why. It's stated that sometimes there is no why. Sometimes, it's not even you. Someone feels that you symbolize what's wrong with their world. It's a "THEM" problem that they've made YOUR Problem. How do we tell our kids that their opinions matter while letting them know that others are free to have differing opinions. We can peacefully agree to disagree. No need to hurt me or others. Looking for something to undo or cause destruction to someone else is predatory. No one is safe from you.<br />
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The person that screams "bomb" or "Fire" in a crowded room, inciting a riot or causes a stampede is prosecuted but when it comes to destroying your life, you're not a person, you're an agenda.<br />
Cancel Culture is dangerous. Cancel Culture is manipulative, destructive, elitist and borderline sociopathic. But no one says that. It becomes a wave of attacks that can destroy everything that you have worked for.<br />
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The thing is, these people have nothing to lose so you they come for you. I saw a popular actress wearing a red hat symbolizing Women's Heart Health. In the comments, there was a heated debate of the red hat. My eyes grew bigger and I was like, "this is insanity." Her wearing a red hat for a good cause is to be marred because of public opinion. People's entire careers rest in the hands of trolls with no posts, handful of ideals and self-importance issues.<br />
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I believe that if you need mental help, please seek it. Before you press the send button, ask yourself why. People that sit at a table of visibility doesn't make it right for you to make into a mission to take them down. The bigger the person, the bigger the target. I tell myself that it's all attraction, ignore them, they go away. Except they don't do that to you. They make sure that the world doesn't forget or forgive you. If another person takes an opinion opposite them, now YOU ARE THE PROBLEM and now you're cancelled. They even turn against each other. Then we have celebrities taking their lives or ending up hurting themselves. People are censored, condemned and protested against and actively blacklisted because someone felt like God that day.<br />
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I don't believe in giving people power over my life. I have worked so hard to get to where I am and refuse to put myself in a position for someone to take it away from me. So here I am staying neutral, like many people because I know the power of the keyboard. I live here. Except, I choose to educate, help and show love. It doesn't matter if you choose to learn with or from me or not, I'm still not taking anything from you. If perchance, you find out something that you don't like about me, mind your business and leave me alone. Keep scrolling. I will not be a party to your madness. I will not be bullied. Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-51858136954116187312020-01-21T09:26:00.002-05:002020-01-21T09:28:45.638-05:00SHIFT UP!!!SO... Yes it's been awhile. Living life and stuff. The thing is, in my absence here, I've sincerely been taking care of business for myself and Bam. Now, it's time for me to share what I've learned with you. I wrote a few books, crossed over a few genres but still stayed within self help. Now more for adults. I realized that to help the children that my earlier books highlight, I also have to help the people entrusted with their care.<br />
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You can't pour from an empty cup. We all do it. Give energy and resources that we honestly don't have. After doing that (and burning out several times) I've come up with a new philosophy for myself. "You'll get there Birdie, one moment, one day at a time." Simple, right?<br />
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How?<br />
That's the other piece of the philosophy, it's by "Shifting Up."<br />
To shift by definition, is a slight change in emphasis, direction or focus.<br />
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By shifting up, you make small changes towards a better life. That's what I'm committed to. So I won't stay away that long again but there are so many small changes that I've made already and I'm so ready to share them with you.<br />
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<a href="http://bit.ly/ShiftUpBookList" target="_blank"><b>I even made you an activity book.</b></a> It has small messages and pictures to color and I'm proud of it. I used some characters from my books and prints from my yoga mat line. Yes yoga mats!<br />
(Told you that I was busy)<br />
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So ENJOY!<br />
<a href="https://birdbamshop.com/" target="_blank">Visit the BirdBam Shop</a> to see what else we're up to.Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17660894544175911963noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-56675345941835905572020-01-21T08:43:00.000-05:002020-01-26T04:12:35.915-05:00Stop Complaining About Tyler Perry<div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After reading article after article, hearing complaint after complaint. I'm tired of hearing people complain about Tyler Perry. In the seat of public opinion, everyone is allowed to have their opinion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>#1 Complaint: Because of using Madea. He's described as a "Clown" "Buffoon" "Drag". "Tyler Perry has gotten rich off of exploiting Black Women." - </i>is the most popular.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes, he has built his career with Madea, a pistol packing, abrasive no-nonsense woman with stereotypical toxic behaviors but still relatable grandmother figure. A <b><i>long ignored truth</i></b> is that black women aren't feeling protected in our communities. It is no secret that black women are silenced, with our health, our children, our men, out in the workforce. We get called bitches for having power in our voices, people tremble and call us toxic when we stand up for ourselves. We want to be there for our men but the truth is, a lot of black men don't know how to love us. And that's because generation after the generation has conditioned black men into thinking that 'taking the path of least resistance" includes excluding Black women altogether, because we're hard to love. Until recently, the beauty in us was no where to be found because of certain hues in our skin and textures of our hair. All of these things have been instilled us as young girls and shaped us into the women we are. Black women have cried in the dark with stories to tell but ignored because we were taught that women stay in horrible relationships for the long term "as long as he comes home to us", "the kids need their father", "there's a man shortage" and other toxic fallacies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If you've followed Mr. Perry from early in his career, he appealed to Black Women because that's who he spoke to. And although he was a man, dressed in a wig, Madea was a protector of sorts, a sage, a confidant. We felt the soul singing, women crying at rock bottom, because they were real stories. The black women in his audiences were the 'faithful and true' and clearly knew the message. <b><i>We were heard</i></b>. He coated the harsh truths with laughs because it needed to palatable and after those 2 1/2 hours, you felt better about what has happened and that something that gave you a pinch of hope. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">#2 Complaint: "His work doesn't help the community." "It's stereotypical and hurts us."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Through his own humble beginnings on the 'chitlin' play circuit' he helped exposed the 'secret ills' of the black community. Incest, domestic violence, the prison system, abuse. Those plays showed how the love of self and/or the love of a man or the love a woman can make the world of difference. There's hope in your faith, to whomever your deity is. Even Madea showed women how to speak up for themselves. I know that at some of my lows, I could pop in a play and with a laughs and tears, I felt lifted up. I know several people that did. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Even his beginning TV shows lasted several seasons and years. Some won't give credit but his shows showed how the crack generation hurt black families, applauded single fathers, highlighted broken families that showed pain, showed that foster children deserve love and attention. He showed positive black families with flawed personalities but full of love. Although people may not like it, his movies and shows that people complain about also has massive following. People watch and keep him on the air. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">#3 Complaint: "He needs new writers." He keeps writing the same thing over and over."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps. Maybe. Ok, as a writer myself, it's perhaps the only one that I may partially agree with. But I will tell you, as an entrepreneur with skin in the game for several years, I've learned that you cannot take everyone with you and you can't bring people into your space when you create. Creators create. In my book company, I personally do not publish other people. My company, my prerogative. I understand that he has a trillion stories to tell so he tells them. He hires many people to carry out his vision and has a HUGE following that still watches his shows. Love his content or hate it, you still watch him and/or talk about him. His company, his prerogative. Perhaps he'll hire a content advisor if he chooses to, but he's going to keep creating his stuff. You don't like it? Don't watch or give it attention. It's if the formula doesn't work anymore, is the only way that someone like Mr. Perry would change the formula for. Let's be real, if the formula works and keeps viewers, it's a proven formula that works. If it works, why <i>should</i> he change it?</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">#4 Complaint: "He's hogging all of the opportunities for other people."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Au Contraire! He hires the old and forgotten, new never heard of and even current actors. He's faithful to the people that he's worked with from the beginning, they stay employed. Same with producers and directors. I'm a black woman in the film industry so this is hopeful. When he opened his studios and I saw films being made that Hollywood wouldn't bat an eye at, get made. Great Movies. Box Office hit movies. Movies that made A LOT of money. His studio creates opportunities for many people of all races. His doors are open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eventually, I want my BirdBam Studios to make our own films. Through his example, he gave filmmakers a footprint. <i>1. Make your own stuff, you can do it. 2. Don't take no for an answer, you can do it. </i>And <i>3. If you can't get an opportunity, make them for yourself.</i> <b>You can do it</b>. Sometimes it's an unpopular route. Sometimes it's a man in a bad wig. I love Madea for everything that she symbolized for me, as do so many other people. I got the messages that I needed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tyler Perry is a smart and resourceful. Anyone who complains either needs to tune into something else, let him fade into their version of obscurity. Or they need to <i>make their <b>own</b> films</i>, create their own following and tell their own stories. <b>It's easy to aim when there's a big target to hit.</b> But the same people that complain about Tyler Perry don't really see the vision. And that's OK. If he never writes another thing, the legacy that he's built in the film industry is better than any example that I've ever seen so far. </span></div>
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Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-80969432481449444032020-01-21T06:06:00.000-05:002020-01-21T06:06:44.813-05:00How to Treat your Depressed FriendsOk. Being that I myself live with depression, I have been very defensive about explaining what has been happening lately with the untimely deaths of some people around us. It's hard to accept but these loved individuals were afflicted with a chronic condition that they have now chosen to take the path of least resistance in their lives by ending it. Don't kill the messenger, it's the most simplistic way to explain it. In other words, all they want is the pain to end. Their reasoning and justifications are not for us to understand. Don't take it personal, it's not you. It's the easier way out, literally.<br />
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Now I'm seeing well intentioned posts that wonderful people are offering a shoulder to cry on. We love you very much but...<br />
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1. Depressed people don't want to stay there. It is a painful place to be. So unless you're a professional, talking about it with you is not the way to help us long term. Sometimes we're in a dark place and we don't even know why.<br />
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2. Depression is not a mood. It is not a feeling. It cannot be relieved with a vent or a rant. It's well-meaning to empathize but it may end up being toxic for both of us. You can't be sick enough to make us well. It is darkness. So being a light is the best way to bring someone out of the dark. So you can't jump into a hole to get us both out.<br />
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Now, your intentions are great and we love you so please know:<br />
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3. It's not personal. How we feel has nothing, nothing to do with you. So being with you cannot be our solution or savior. It's not fair to you to pull you into our darkness. Just be light, be a path to light. Sometimes we'll reject the light, please respect that too. If we can't be in the light, let us go. But don't let us stay there.<br />
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4. Pity Parties Suck! So please don't make it hard for us to be with you. We both can't be negative and feel better. It's like the blind leading the blind. Let's not do that.<br />
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5. Being sad is not depression. Some people are going through a phase. You can't diagnose it in someone else, just be a friend to your friend if they're having a tough time. Tough times can be a prerequisite to depression. It's like living the shorter term tough times until it hurts, long term with no help in sight. Everyone needs a friend so if you see someone having a tough time, see <i>how</i> you can help with a solution or resource.<br />
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6. Also, being a toxic person may be an subconscious action to someone, but in trying to understand depression, should be a deep enough conversation for all of us to be intentional in how our energy is given and received. Pay attention to your own energy, you may be a trigger for negativity that spirals downward.<br />
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Days may be hard, but let's try not to stay there. A bad day doesn't make for depression.<br />
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5. Depression is a pain that we cannot explain. All a depressed person wants is to not be in pain anymore. That's the part that's so hard to understand. Depression is a chronic condition, not a mood easily changed.<br />
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I find myself on the end of a lot of toxic conversations because I'm easy to talk to. Truth is, it's draining. But I've learned how to protect my energy in regards to others, some aren't so fortunate. If you can't take care of yourself and how you feel, you can't help us. Take care of yourself first, check on us when you can handle it.<br />
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We'll want to be alone sometimes, respect it. Just check in once in a while, invite us for coffee or take a walk. Not to talk, but just be there.<br />
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We want love, understanding and patience, so please don't try to fix us. Just be a friend, if we need to vent, listen for a little, then steer the convo positively.<br />
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We love you and thank you for your support and well intentions. Best of all, Thank you for being a friend.<br />
<br />Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-23745897736504092812019-07-16T07:38:00.004-04:002020-01-21T09:24:09.293-05:00#SandraBlandsLifeSTILLMatters<div dir="ltr">
I wrote this piece in July 2015 and now it has been 4 years since Sandra Bland's Murder. We can never forget how her death emphasized and magnified the disrespect for a black woman's life and how easily someone's ego can rip a life from this earthly existence. There has been countless and senseless murders in the name of "Blue Justice", I can't help but think of the ways her murder was covered up and silenced. This is re-published in hopes that we #neverforget #sayhername </div>
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July 2015 -</div>
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Without even immersing yourself in Social media, CNN, FOX or any news outlets you are still witnessing a devastating abuse of power in the case of Sandra Bland.</div>
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Sandra Bland is me, my sister, our girlfriends, mother's, aunt's and cousins.<br />
And all Sandra Bland did was not properly signal, get stopped for it and "sass" Officer at the time, Brian Encinia.</div>
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That's it.</div>
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Personally, anyone I know, with the weight of their life and their day, the rush to their destination and add the anxiety of being stopped by the police; ANY OF US could've been Sandra Bland. And for all of those who do not THINK for one minute that these are unique circumstances, think again. Because unless you live under a rock, buried in a deep ravine, the abuse of power in this country is everywhere. People's lives are unjustly "<i>plucked"</i> from this planet with disregard to life's value in what seems like everyday by those sworn to protect us. When will <i>that </i>stop?</div>
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There's no overt conspiracy against police, no police hate here. But what the hell is happening? </div>
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After stopping Sandra Bland, everything else the police officer did was 1000% wrong. None of Sandra Bland's "<i>offensive demeanor"</i> or "<i>black woman attitude"</i> warranted her forced exit from her vehicle. Within that recorded (with a police dash cam) traffic stop, Sandra Bland's rights as an American Citizen, as a woman and as a human were violated.</div>
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And to add another insult to her unnecessary death, the transparent cover-up currently in progress is crazy to watch. Where's the accountability? Where's the<i>: "I messed up." "We messed up." "We were wrong." </i>Nope. None of that. Instead, there's this calculated plot to cover up an avalanche of wrongs. What is <b><i>right </i></b>with any of this?</div>
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There are actual "justifications" being thrown around.<br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland not respect him? How dare Sandra Bland get sassy with that officer! He's got a badge! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland have ever wanted to die in her past! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland ever get depressed in her past! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland have weed in her system! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland be a woman! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland be a *gasp* black woman! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland drive a car! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland live! </i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare Sandra Bland die in police custody?</i></b><br />
<b><i>How dare she!</i></b></div>
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My heart bleeds for Sandra Bland, her family and the senselessness of Sandra Bland's death. And the insulting of our intelligence within the "investigation" we're witnessing. It's heartbreaking.</div>
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Sandra Bland is all of us. Sandra Bland does not deserve to be forgotten or swept under the rug. Sandra Bland deserves justice. Bottom line. </div>
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#All Lives are supposed to Matter, right?<br />
I just hope that police officers, state government, federal government and all of the rest of us remember that. </div>
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<b>UPDATE:</b> <i>Sandra Bland's murder and murderer Brian Encinia has not been brought to justice. His perjury charges for covering her murder were dropped by Judge Albert McCaig in exchange for his retirement from the Police Department. The name of the medical examiner that ruled her death a suicide's remain unnamed. A wrongful death suit that was settled to her family for $1.9 Million. </i></div>
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<i>The newly enacted Sandra Bland Act now requires jail cell checks, on-duty nurses in jails and de-escalation training for police and jailers.</i></div>
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#sayhername #SandraBland #justice #ProtectBlackWomen</div>
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Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-73833848936283034372018-06-07T22:57:00.003-04:002018-06-07T22:57:58.121-04:00About Saggy Boobs, Stretch Marks and Saddle BagsSo, I've been busy. So many things have happened since the last time I've shared with you. Nowadays, I'm doing motivational speaking, writing adult books and expanding my brand exponentially and I'm so excited. SO EXCITED!!!! Saggy Boobs is a memoir about my journey until now and I can't wait to share it with you.<br />
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I named my book after a moment in time that I really didn't feel good about myself. I was tired, broke and sad.<br />
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I was at a party and was so uncomfortable already with the crazy events at the party. It was ugly, me and 2 other exes were at the party. I tried to play it cool, but I got a hot flash. I rushed into a room, and while taking off my sweater, my shirt caught onto my sweater and for a millisecond, my stomach was exposed. I quickly put it down but when I turned my head, my son's father was standing in the doorway and had caught it. He had this look on his face that unnerved me.<br />
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We were in a bad place at this point with a custody battle and residuals of messiness at the party, the look of disgust on his face when I looked at him showed me how I felt about myself. I was so unhappy and didn't like myself. I wasn't even conscious that I felt that way about myself.<br />
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He doesn't remember this instance to this moment and to his defense, sometimes people aren't aware of what their expressions look like to others add onto my own insecurities and it's a powder keg of emotions. With what was going on between us as it was had me in a dark place, his face showed me insecurities that I didn't know that I had. I thought I was proud of my body and was definitely high and mighty, but at that moment I literally felt like Saggy Boobs, Stretch Marks and Saddlebags.<br />
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Since then, I've sunken deeper into self pity and pulled myself right back out! But it was a great journey back to myself and I wanted to share it with you. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Birdie-Chesson/e/B00QTCPNEQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1528350217&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The book is now available on Amazon.</a>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-73730539944378556422018-03-05T11:17:00.001-05:002018-03-05T11:25:05.899-05:00The Inclusion Rider and Black Women<p dir="ltr">Last night, I cried proud tears when Frances McDormand stood up with pride amongst women in Hollywood and told the seated men to think of and include these women when they negotiate their contracts. I was so happy. I knew that she included me. Then I saw black women on twitter say, “Well how does Inclusion Riders help other black women?” I felt a punch in the gut. <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">We saw firsthand what inclusion rider was when Jessica Chastain did it for Octavia Spencer. They were negotiating with the studio to make their own movie. Because Jessica stood with Octavia, Octavia got 5 times more than she would have gotten. That was with Jessica just to just have equal pay. Yes, Equal Pay.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">On one hand, I see what the women on Twitter meant, because in our experience, it has been proven that black women shattering the glass ceiling is even harder than it is for a white woman, let alone any man of any color. <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">It’s been our experience that the world still doesn’t know a women’s worth. Unspoken (or spoken) actions had us question our own worth to the point that we didn’t know what ask for. We would come to the table and hope that our accolades and awards would speak for us instead of having to spout about our accomplishments, even be accused of “bragging”.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">For black women, we’d be criticized for not “knowing our place”, because when we’ve demanded fair treatment, our attitude and approach is called hostile and confrontational. We’d all be left to ask, “Why can’t others see our worth? And if that’s the case, how can we see our own in this day and age?” When no one will hire you, because your price is too high, we are then left to second-guess ourselves.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">I lived this on many occasions. When my last boss told me flat out that he didn’t see my value, I left my job. It hurt because I loved my job but he did me a favor. I saw my own value, so I left to do what made me happy and valued. That’s because I know what I bring to the table. I knew that I was supposed to be the one to provide the jobs and opportunities.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Sometimes, coming into any industry is like being a kid and others don’t want to play with you on the playground so you make your own game, with your own rules. You can’t cry about it, you keep moving forward, maybe the others will join you, maybe they won’t.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Now, it may seem naive to some, but I personally don’t see color as I move in industries. I’m in film, books and in the music industries, all male dominated but I never thought about color when it came to women. I see a sisterhood. Because when it came time for others to include me, I included myself. No one asked me why I was there. I showed up. I taught myself that if the powers that be won’t include you at the table, sit down anyway and shine. That includes my fellow black women. Problem is, that us black people have grown up in scarcity and lack for so long that we really feel like other successful black people should include us. It’s not fair to reason that way for them and we are doing ourselves a great disservice with that thinking. While no one “owes us anything”, it would be nice  to have inclusion for other women like me that are making things happen.<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">So I make this clear: I am a black woman that refuses to stay seated when it’s time for women to stand up. All women are included. So take your space at the table. Or we can make a table and include others. Either way, let’s pull together and bring each other in so we can all go up together as sisters. There’s strength in numbers. Thanks Frances. <br>
</p>
Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-88629313803698189642015-04-29T12:16:00.001-04:002015-04-29T12:16:37.165-04:00Not-so-Stranger DangerYesterday, I watched the 20/20 exclusive Robin Roberts interview with 2 of the 3 kidnapping survivors from Cleveland: Amanda Berry and Gina DeJesus. (Michelle Knight, not interviewed, was the first woman kidnapped) and I was glued to the screen the entire time. It was a great interview. These women had serious strength and showed great courage despite the circumstances at hand and their survival instincts to stay alive were inspiring.<br />
<br />
At the time of their kidnapping, Gina was just 14, Amanda was almost 17. On Twitter, I saw some feedback with people asking why would the young ladies get into a car with a stranger. Answer to that is, this man was no stranger.<br />
<br />
This man preyed on his own children's friends and took advantage of the fact that these girls were familiar with him.<br />
<br />
Problem is, this can happen oh so easily. I have a now 11-year old son. And like so many other families, we have a daily routine. The driver of our daily bus ride that we do small talk with, the crossing guard that crosses us, the deli clerk that gives us the morning bagel, the same security officer and parking attendant that we come across EVERY SINGLE DAY could be a predator. That's the real world that we live in. We have everyday people that we'd think can trust. After that interview, we are reminded that nothing is ever totally certain.<br />
<br />
As far as I can see, that man was in a position of trust. He was a school bus driver. He was a parent. The lessons about life that we teach our children are hard enough without the horrible monsters on earth that make the world that we've created an even smaller & scarier place.<br />
<br />
I wrote a book years ago called, "I Won't go with Strangers", (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wont-Go-With-Strangers-Series/dp/0692338993" target="_blank">Amazon</a> and in <a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/backcoverstranger.html" target="_blank">PDF form</a>) about a girl on her daily routine, confronted with realistic scenarios, with her making the decision to not go with a stranger. I wrote an earlier entry called "<a href="http://missbirdie.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-losing-leiby-kletzky-hurts-so-much.html" target="_blank">Why Losing Leiby Kletzky Hurts so Much"</a> and spoke about a boy that was "safe" in his own community, familiar surroundings and he also wasn't immune to the monsters that lurk and prey on innocent children.<br />
<br />
Now with that said, there are no certainties that what happened would or wouldn't happen again because sadly, it happens everyday. But as long as we teach our kids to be aware, use their instincts & intuition and educate them on who monsters can be, whether they are strangers or sit on our couch, we can give them a fighting chance.<br />
<br />
<br />Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-1791094301115062272015-02-17T12:48:00.001-05:002015-02-22T14:34:05.056-05:00Groundhog Day...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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So, game on, y’all. Been in hibernation for awhile, hence the Groundhog Day. Well not
really hibernating. Ok, so it seems like it because I’ve been scarce. But since my last
blog, I recorded and released my first album, Scandal. I am really proud of it.
It started out as a bucket list/promise fulfilled. But it unveiled something in
me that I missed so much. An evolution of expression. I dug deep and meant
every word.</div>
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I do karaoke about once a month and although I bring the
house down when I do it, the songs are still someone else’s. I wrote and sung
my own songs and it was an emotional undertaking. It’s not the most quality
sound but it’s me. Raw and I absolutely love it. My next plan is to release
videos for 2 songs on the album: “Pretty” and “Lose Again”, when the weather gets
warmer. It has been so cold out there. </div>
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Besides my music, I released 4 hard copies of my children’s
books: Stickboy and Cookie are Friends, Cookie’s First Day of School, Don’t be
a Follower, Stickboy and I Won’t go with Strangers. Those and 5 other books are
still available in PDF form but it meant so much to me that I actually hard
published those books. There’s nothing like being an author without hard copy
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My goal is to be a writing guru, so to speak. Songs, books,
more kids books, scripts, you think it, I write it. And I believe that I am on
my way to that.</div>
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I’m writing songs for several artists, as well as myself and
definitely working on movies and television pilots. I’m on fire!</div>
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Being focused is really hard at times, but I was told a long
time ago that if you aim at one thing at a time, you can do it all. I’ve slowly
checked a few things off of my list and they’re big things. I’ve made myself
proud and as you see my grow even more as a creator, you will be proud of me
too. </div>
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See y’all soon. <3 p=""><div class="MsoNormal">
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To see what I've been up to, go to: </div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Birdie-Chesson/e/B00QTCPNEQ" target="_blank">My Amazon Page</a></div>
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Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-39248202659010733112014-08-27T03:16:00.001-04:002014-08-27T03:16:18.411-04:00Where I'm coming from...Ok. So I've been "finishing" my memoir, "Saggy Boobs, Stretch Marks and Saddle Bags" for the past year. And although the anticipation is building and my friends & fans are patiently waiting, I'm still struggling to finish. I even have the cover of the book done.<div><br><div> Mind you, the chapters are finished. I know that my book needs a little more "Me" behind it but subconsciously, I've honestly been looking for every excuse in the world not to finish. I didn't know why. </div><div><br></div><div>Then I thought about it, as public as I am, I'm realizing that the constant unveiling of myself within this book reveals a chunk of exiled pain, in which by keeping it locked inside, I've hurt myself so much. </div><div><br></div><div>The book is a mental and emotional exposé of sorts, a way for me to let go because I'm important to myself and my life story hasn't reflected that. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm hoping that my stories that caused me to hide from life in the first place now forces me outside of myself to help those who needs to hear it. It's not about just me.</div><div><br></div><div>I must keep that on mind.</div></div>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-5688299609850596572013-09-29T23:33:00.000-04:002015-02-22T14:57:18.194-05:00Belief ReliefIn 2013, I've had several scares.<br />
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In January, there was the breast cancer scare. Benign. In March, I got hit by a car. I'm alive. In September, I had a biopsy on my thyroid. Benign. I'm healthy and I want to world to know that I'm fine!!!<br />
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Passing it all with flying colors. And that's just 2013.<br />
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So now, I am moving towards my next birthday with a huge weight off of me. Funny thing about relief. The valleys become wider. The sun, moon and stars shine brighter. And your dreams are bigger again. Possibilities are endless all over again. I call it <i>belief relief</i>.<br />
When you get that sigh of relief and breathe fresh air, that's the perfect time to pounce on your dreams and make it real. Like actually hold it in your hands and make all things you've ever dreamed of, real. Belief in self, pursued with gusto and new life.<br />
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So. I'm back.<br />
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I speak with more authority. Focus is crisp. My thoughts are clear. My love is so much more passionate. I've had more than my share of second chances at life this year alone. I've gotta do more than play numbers with my luck, I have to float this boat out of harbor and make my dreams come true, come what may.<br />
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Life is short. And as "The big things" happen, it cements my need to appreciate the life that I've been given, show my love for the gifts I have and live true.<br />
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In 2014, I finished my album, Scandal, released hard copy versions (Not just PDF) of 4 of my kids' books. All I kept thinking was, "You can't sit on your dreams. It's like having a gift that never gets unwrapped." Doing that makes no sense, right? Been doing that. Time for me to do what I need to do. Live my life.<br />
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Updates:<br />
My new projects for 2015 include:<br />
Writing songs for other artists. <br />
The release of another Stickboy and Cookie Book; "The Big Start."<br />
The release of my new Young Reader series, "Bam Roberts."<br />
A new book called, "Saggy Boobs, Stretch Marks and Saddle Bags." Plus a bonus book (Shhh...)<br />
I'm really excited about it.<br />
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Throughout all of my excitement, I'm pacing myself, yes. But my focus on the prize is so much more clear. My mission is to still sow seeds and keep folks talking... good stuff though. Good stuff.<br />
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<br />Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-3929343833158606732012-12-06T07:06:00.000-05:002013-09-29T23:10:01.566-04:00M.I.A. -to- Now here to stay<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I've know that I've been M.I.A. (Missing In Action) lately.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Most of 2012 to be exact. When the year started and the ball dropped, I knew everything was different, I felt fresher, creative and optimistic about everything. From finishing books and illustrations to expanding my book writing business to include adult and YA fiction. Editing opportunities multiplied Then, at the very beginning of the year, the sledgehammer dropped. My son got very sick and nothing else mattered but him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Although there was nothing I could have done, I was guilty of being so busy and self-involved that I had been neglecting my son's needs. But I now I know that was not true and there was nothing I could have done differently to prevent any of it. But EVERYTHING (not Bam-related) was getting dropped. I picked up the tiniest of editing jobs, just to keep some income, but nothing overly time consuming. Money was starting to be a huge problem for the first time in years. Then the custody battle happened. I grew so angry and felt betrayed. I've always strived for balance in my life and now everything was <i>"out of wack"</i> and all over the place. Nothing on this earth is more important than my son. But now everything was falling apart. People I considered friends started dropping like flies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then we moved. A huge move. Great adjustment, new environment, best thing for my son and I so far. Then he got a clean bill of health. It was a short battle but I won custody. All of my prayers answered. And I got plenty of new beginnings. Good stuff. Picking up the pieces wasn't easy but it all fit together in the right way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that the end of another year is approaching, so many good things are on the horizon for me. Setting myself up with opportunities I never knew existed. My brand is growing and now I'm working on myself so much more. Me time. I never imagined that! Although at the time I thought life was over and sunk deep into hopelessness, I learned that everything happened for a reason. And although it was hard and most of you got the negative stuff all year and I really needed you, I understand the timeout some of you put me on. Everything is never as ideal as we would like it to be and some weren't used to me being as dark as I was. Granted. Point taken.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wouldn't have been able to make it without God and the great people in my life that truly love me and stuck by me close and far: good, bad and ugly. Although everything is still coming together and nothing is perfect, my life has a new perspective. I also know that I'm in a better position to be that same (but better) lighter and brighter Birdie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You'll see. Stay tuned. </span></div>
Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-79869848807926027572011-12-08T11:54:00.002-05:002011-12-08T11:57:40.168-05:00Fire Lighters and Fire Fighters<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I heard a term used yesterday that had me thinking a lot. <b><i>Fire Lighters and Fire Fighters. </i></b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I believe that everyone is born with a flame. Whether it's a burning desire to be something special or just stand out from everyone else. There's a fire in all of us and there are circumstances that dictate whether or not we keep it lit.</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">It starts with the natural fight within that we are constantly conflicted and questioning our every action. Then there's the people around you that constantly test your fire power. </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">A fire lighter is a person that see you for who you are and who you can be. Ignite and nurture the flame in you. </span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fire fighters put out that fire in you. They tell you what’s wrong with everything you're planning, resist change, discourage and minimize your power)</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ever since I heard this terminology, I've been thinking about what I want for my life and my son's life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now I have to think about the people in our lives that don't want the same things for us, even making it harder for us to achieve our dreams and goals. I've been self-employed for many years now. That means I only get paid when I earn money. There's no Birdie Fund somewhere for me lying around. So I have to make my own money however I can. I don't complain about money. I do what I can. If I can't "afford" to hang out with you, it just means that all of my dollars are all accounted for, including future dollars (for now). With that, I hear sometimes, why don't you go out and get a job?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If only it were that simple. I'm a businesswoman. If whenever the money got scarce businesses packed up and dried up, how many businesses would last? </span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">It opened my eyes when I asked myself: Who has been there for me, encouraging me every step of the way with my accomplishments? And who is always planting those seeds of doubt that permeate my foundation?</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I can't blame anyone else for my missteps or my shortcomings nor can anyone else take credit for my accomplishments and talents. So I can't point the finger when I choose to stop pursuing something out of fear although I have in the past. I am the one that chooses my friends, chooses my actions and chooses my future course. I can also choose who keep in my life.</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">There's a difference between a reality check and extinguishing a flame. Don't be so damn negative.</span></div>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-71605290031486569432011-08-30T12:26:00.001-04:002014-08-21T07:47:50.718-04:00My HappinessI forgot that I was the one in control of my own destiny. <br />
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What was I doing?</div>
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One thing I’ve realized is that happiness is simple. Happiness is not contingent on anything but yourself. Every time I think about how hard things get for me, I’m the one that’s ultimately in charge of my own future. We people make it hard and complicate things. We let our minds and lives become consumed with things that just take our focus away from what we are really supposed to be doing.</div>
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If you know me personally, you’d know that I’ve had plenty going on in my life within these past couple of months. Monumental things. Well, at least I made them monumental.</div>
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First, my apartment flooded and although I didn’t lose much, it was enough to consume my time and energy. I had work deadlines that I pushed aside because although I was a hostage in my own home (my front door was busted open and held closed by a flimsy lock for 6 weeks.) I couldn’t concentrate. </div>
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Instead, I complained about what was going on, the kids and I had cabin fever and I was the most unproductive I had been EVER.</div>
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After my door was fixed, I went on my second vacation of the summer, I had fun and got a makeover, it also took something (that I don’t want to talk about) to happen that put things in perspective for me. I let someone make me feel small and because I’m so hard on myself anyway, it hit me like a ton of bricks. But this time, I didn’t let it derail me or make me feel sorry for myself. It propelled me to change.</div>
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I know that whatever is happening in my life, it could always be worse. But it can also always be better. The opportunities will come along and with that, the time will come to make good things happen for my son and I. I will not let someone else define or determine my life, my happiness or my future. </div>
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Then Hurricane Irene came and I had to evacuate my home. So I packed my son and my office and left my comfort/uncomfort zone to go to another comfort/uncomfort zone. From that experience I learned that I can do what I do from anywhere and I can leave home and no matter where my son and I end up is up to me. I learned that nothing that may seem monumental at the time, can stop me from what I want to do with my life.</div>
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The lessons that I’ve learned this summer is that I was supposed to prepare for everything that came my way. I passed and I failed. So much of it was out of my hands and out of my control that I let go of the steering wheel and almost crashed and burned. But I’ve opened my eyes and see that I’ve walked away virtually unscathed. There’s much more work to do. </div>
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The biggest lesson is: “The rest is up to me. I have to be the one to prepare, so I don’t miss out on the life I’m supposed to have when the time comes. And the time to shine is fast approaching. And I’m doing it now.</div>
Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-19505743946357922872011-07-15T17:41:00.002-04:002014-08-21T07:46:49.010-04:00Why losing Leiby Kletzky hurts so much<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>(From a post in July 2011)</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I cried this morning. As I watch the news story that has saturated the headlines, I cried for a mother and the horrific way her baby died. I cried scared tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_Leiby_Kletzky" target="_blank">Leiby Kletzky</a> was just an 8 year old boy that just wanted to be a big boy and do big boy things like walk home all by himself. Just like my kid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All his mother did was let him do what she thought her son could handle. They did what they could to prepare. They did dry runs, even down to the day before. She trusted that the same neighborhood that Leiby had been raised in, the same neighborhood whose people and businesses they passed everyday would be watching out for him. The thing is, Leiby had seen his abductor and eventual killer before. Even if they had never had an actual conversation before, that horrible man that killed him was a familiar face to Leiby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This made me paranoid. Who is a stranger?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we tell our kids of the dangers of talking to strangers, what is the description we give? Perhaps a man with a van that scoops young children off of the streets. Or some lady that wants to give our kids a drink or strange candy or PCP stamps and stickers that will drug the kids and make them susceptible to be taken advantage of. Or some strange person that tries to lure our kids out of our sight and take them to a basement somewhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Besides those examples, who are the real strangers?</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I thought about my own 7 year old son who is like me, very friendly and knows his neighbors through our daily routine. There's the bus driver and the same passengers on our morning commute. The same friendly faces he has seen everyday since he was 3 years old. We smile, say good morning, even give high-fives. Then there's the crossing guard he hugs like a grandmother every morning and after school. And the security guards and lunch ladies that crack jokes with him everyday. These are all people that my son would trust to give him direction if perchance he got lost on his way back to me. People he would go with if they told him that they would take him to me. I cried again at the thought of <i>What If?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I'm questioning, do I <i>really</i> know any of these people? This tragedy has us questioning the very people around us and it's crazy. Do we have to retreat into a life of paranoia that gives us a false sense of security in order to appease our insecurities about the world we live in?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All the Kletzkys did was live their everyday lives, in a close-knit strong community and let their child be a child and trust that their child would be fine. Like we all do. I would never blame it on his age because his mother really believed that he would be fine. As parents, we all know what our children are capable of and sometimes we give our babies more responsibility than they can actually handle. It's the rest of the world we underestimate. It's a judgment call that will haunt that family forever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I realized that I had written a book several years ago about strangers called, <a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/talktome.html" target="_blank">"I won't go with strangers."</a> It is for sale as the book of the month on my site. When I re-read it, I saw how practical it is for this very situation. Later on that day, the kids and I talked and practiced reactions to be lost and asking for directions and reaffirmed what to do if approached. I'm glad that we did it. It's crazy when a tragedy reminds us that the world is a different place and the same people that we see everyday may be hiding a monster within.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What hurts so much is the <b><i>"what if"</i></b> of it all. What if Leiby's family taught him that if he gets lost to call them or go to a police officer or go into a store, ask for a manager and get directions from them? What if Leiby knew his way home? Leiby's mother had just said no? My stomach spins every time I think of this. Perhaps this happened to wake us all up from the dream that is our everyday life. To remind us that no matter what we do, it still may never be enough. I cried again when I thought of how defenseless I as a mother I truly am. Is all I can do is hold my son's hand tighter and pray we never get separated?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">No. Along with hoping and praying that when our child is in someone we trust's hands, they are in great hands, I can think of what I can do to prepare my son for this world. Give him tools to thrive and survive. To not just fight, give him foresight into the way to handle losing his way. So if and when I finally let my son out into the world, I can hope that the world is kind to him and the monsters stay away. Hope that when the situation calls for it, he will use the tools I have given him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Go to </span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/talktome.html" style="font-family: inherit;">MissBirdiesBooks.com</a></span>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-83560739926110459552011-05-31T12:59:00.002-04:002014-08-21T07:49:33.475-04:00Unplugging... Plugging back in...Lately, I've been out of it. Little or no social networking, which is bad considering the fact that I need to do it to stay "in the loop". I even stopping talking to people because I didn't want my conversations to be negative. Why infect other people with what was plaguing me? I was now hiding from the world. <br />
WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO ME?<br />
The craziest part of it all is, the issues weren't mine. I had let others' problems and issues consume my time and energy so much that I began to suffocate. When I went to see the doctor on a routine visit, she told me that I have high blood pressure. <br />
WHAT?!?!<br />
I've never had any problems like this and the stress from other people's stress was now making me sick. There was so much negativity around me, it had left me stagnant and constantly dragging my feet. I was paralyzed. I was constantly helping someone else. Being there for other people and not getting anything I needed to get done, done. Then, when it was time to get back to basics, I was lost. I didn't know where I left off. My lack of energy and productivity began to even affect Bam. I'd lie on the couch physically and mentally exhausted, here was Bam lying on me. I saw that he just wanted to be there for me. But I also saw that I was inadvertently projecting my energy to Bam, who was helpless in all of the madness.<br />
BIG PROBLEM.<br />
What could I do about it?<br />
I went away. Took a short break, a nice long weekend getaway. As tempting as it was, I didn't even take work with me. Just me and Bam. We slept in mornings and played til nightfall. We enjoyed ourselves so much that it hurt when we had to go back home and to reality. That's when I realized that I needed to go back to basics and think of the reasons why I started everything in my life that is going for me up until now. It was always for Bam's and my future. If I stayed the course that Bam and I could enjoy more getaways and outings like that one.<br />
If I'm stressed to the point of sickness and being unproductive, what will become of the dream? <br />
EXACTLY.<br />
I vow to do better for myself and Bam. Tune out and unplugging from the rest of the world from time to time...<br />
and definitely taking more vacations.Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-76769726935671360532011-03-30T13:12:00.001-04:002014-08-21T07:50:58.185-04:00Practicing What I Preach<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I've never claimed to have all of the answers, just some of them. In my thirty-something plus years, I have accumulated enough scars and baggage to last the next ice age. But I'm moving on from all of it, letting it all go and beginning a new, more positive way of living and thinking. I always have advice for friends, "Just keep thinking positive." "Let it go." Some phrases I'm notorious for. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">But something that happened this weekend that brought up some painful things that I thought I was over and by my reaction, I clearly wasn't. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I even demanded an apology from this person. In response, he said, "Why don't just let it go?" Hmm. I could have punched him in the face for that very statement. Too proud at the moment to admit it, I was ashamed. No doubt about it, he was wrong in the past and the transgressions he committed against me and my family had piled up and the consequences still affect my son and I till this very moment. But where was </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">my</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> fault in the entire situation? However minute in comparison, I did have something to own in it all.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I was bitter. I acted bitter. I told people details of why I was bitter. This person was constantly reminded that I was bitter. Every time I saw him, I showed my bitterness. But my bitterness also affected the person I loved the most, my son.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">So I apologized to him. It sounds crazy to say. But when I apologized, I put an end to the leak that was affecting my supply of positivity. I let it go. In my daily life, I'm already constantly reminded of what this person did. But if I would like to lead by example, I had to let it go. Heal and move forward, for real this time.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">So to that person: I will forgive your transgression but not the fact that it is defining your character. In other words: If you're jacked up, unless you learn from your mistakes and correct said character flaws, you WILL repeat them. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">In Layman's terms: If you are a liar, unless you own it and change, you will always be a liar. Same with cheaters and thieves. And </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I will learn from our history and just stay away from you. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Still sounds bitter, huh. Time does not heal all wounds and f</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">orgiveness is a big, nasty pill to swallow. But when it goes down, all of the bitterness comes right out. Hopefully never to return. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I'm still learning from everything that has happened, but it will not define my reality or future. I'm still on my journey, so please forgive me. I'm learning to practice what I preach.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">A portion of this blog is an excerpt from my upcoming book, "Saggy Boobs, Stretch Marks and Saddle Bags."</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Visit MissBirdiesBooks.com</span></span></a></span>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-57356759316030348892011-03-17T13:29:00.002-04:002014-08-21T07:52:24.434-04:00Brushes With Greatness<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last night, I had a dream. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was going down an escalator and when I got to the bottom, there was my dad, now deceased, looking vibrant and healthy. In true Buzz fashion, he asks me for a dollar. I smile and give it to him. He kisses me on the cheek, tells me he loves me and that he's proud of me. Then he says, "You don't belong here, go back up." I go up the escalator and that was it. The end.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I've never read into dreams before but I was curious. So I Googled "Escalators up/down in dreams", "Deceased parents in dreams", "Handing over money in dreams". <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">To make a long story short, here's what I came up with: Down escalator - wallowing in emotions, Parent- seeking validation, money equals love and the up escalator - moving forward towards your goal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The answers made me think about my journey thus far. It's been an emotional rollercoaster. I've been under pressure to finish books. Promote the books. Stay creative. All while trying to be a good mom, which I never feel is good enough. Doing all of this on 2 or 3 hours of sleep at a time, brings me to my breaking point. Delirium.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But I can't afford to break.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Since my father passed in 2004, I've been thinking about how he always told me that I was doing a great job and he was proud of me. It always made me feel like I was on the right track. Fast forward to just days ago, sleep deprived, mixed with insecurities and riddled with self-doubt, I felt like I was just spinning my wheels and going nowhere. Wallowing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then I come into the city and set up my office (yes, in Whole Foods, lol) and dive into work. In one of my many brushes with greatness I have while in “the office”, other artists and business people that set up shop around me and the small talk conversations ensue. When I tell the other person what I do, they want to see what I’ve done. I show them and they love what they see. Talent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then they ask, “So what are you doing about it?” Now I’m stuck on stupid with no answers. What </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">am</span></i></span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> I doing? How do I promote the books that I've already finished? I'm still figuring that out. Duh.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">From them, I get suggestions, ideas and book recommendations, all to either help motivate and inspire me. One of them even said to me, “You are knocking on the roof of success and you’re about to break through. You got it, Girl!” Wow. People, perfect strangers see the greatness in me and tell me that I can do it. Why couldn’t I see that for myself? Light bulb.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So when I finally got some sleep and I had that dream, I woke up strangely refreshed. My dad had told me what I needed to hear and sent me on my way. Now invigorated with fresh ideas and a lot of motivation to make this work, I devised some kind of plan. Still kinda wingin’ it, but I know that I am on my way up and it’s important for me to feel that way. Certainty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">All think about is the SNL character Stuart Smalley (played by Al Franken) saying into a mirror, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am, I am and gosh darn it, they do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-14500914327084354752011-03-15T11:23:00.003-04:002011-12-01T16:33:01.696-05:00Why she left her kids...<div style="font-family: inherit;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I couldn’t sleep last night. All I could think about was if I had the chance to leave my son behind to “find myself”, could I? There has been a huge debate following a popular blog called, <a href="http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2011/02/28/leaving_my_children/index.html">“Why I left my children.”</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let me first say, I was divided on the blog. A part of me said, “When you become a mother, all of your wants go out the window. Being a mother is supposed to be one of the most rewarding and unselfish jobs in the world. It’s no longer about you. It’s all about what your kids need.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">But the other part of me understood that she needed to distance herself in order to be a better mom, if that makes sense. Women tend to be people pleasers and can be persuaded to do things, even when it’s against themselves, in her case to get pregnant and have kids. At least she knew, however late, the role she really wanted to play was from a distance to be a</span><span class="textexposedshow" style="font-size: large;"> better mother than if she forced herself to stay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="textexposedshow" style="font-size: large;">If you've seen the message boards of her blog, whew! The feedback was vicious. When it comes down to it, who of us can really judge her? In extreme cases, there are women abusing and killing the kids they never wanted. I think it’s good that she left the kids with the responsible parent as she went off to "find herself". Not to say that she would be an abuser or killer, b</span><span style="font-size: large;">ut if you know you can't raise your kids the way they deserve or know you can't be the Mom you "should" be, isn't that <i>unselfish</i>? So you see, I'm divided on this one. Not every woman that has kids, is meant to be a Mom.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like the woman in the blog, against my better judgment I let my family and partner at the time pressure me to get pregnant and have a baby. In my heart, I knew I wasn't ready, I had a singing career and had a whole other life. So when my son got here, I was sad, overwhelmed and although it’s hard to say now, regretful. Then I went through postpartum depression. I was a mess. When I found out that he had a birth defect, I was crushed. Did I do all I could? How could I feel this way? I felt so guilty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bottom line was, my baby needed me. There were good days, bad days and worse days. But I had my pen and paper. Realizing that I couldn’t go one like this, it was when my son had his surgery that made me decide my career path. The decision I made wasn’t about me. I decided to quit the job I had to concentrate on him. I began to freelance write and edit. It was hard at first, but when I found my groove, I was quite successful at it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">And although hi</span><span class="textexposedshow" style="font-size: large;">s father was present, I couldn't think of leaving him with his dad and disappear. I worked through my issues and moved on. Yes, I stopped a huge part of my life, but I gained a whole new life. It took awhile to get back to who I was before and realized that that life wasn't for me anymore. So a lot of people don't get how as a mom, she gave up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">The worst thing a mother can feel is regret in having her children. Imagine the energy in the air of that house of a mother that doesn't want to be there or even feels like she missed out on something. That's not good for the kids. Some moms may not understand that, but I do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am now a single mother. As such, I now realize the importance of taking time out for myself. It’s never an easy decision to leave your kids for a time, even for overnight visits. But sometimes it has to be done to give myself a chance to regroup, so I can be a better mom. In a similar way, I guess that’s what she did. But no matter how hard it gets for me sometimes, I couldn’t imagine leaving my son behind. But that’s me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">The woman in the blog knew that her kids would be taken care of. She and her children were fortunate that she had a supportive husband and father for her children. Or she’d have to suck it up like the rest of us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="textexposedshow" style="font-size: large;">People see it as she saw an opportunity and she wanted to pursue it. She left her kids because she didn’t want to regret not doing what she wanted with her life. I can see why people called her selfish. I know with certainty that I’m a good mom. But if I wouldn’t take care of my son anymore, I love him enough to leave him with someone that would love him and cherish him the way that I do. As I live, breathe and am able to function, I wouldn’t leave my son. I couldn’t.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="textexposedshow" style="font-size: large;">The truth is, she left her kids behind because she could. </span></div>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-91310688735559168642011-02-23T17:11:00.002-05:002011-12-01T16:34:05.575-05:00HYPOCRITE!!!!<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am a mother of a six year-old boy and 10 year-old niece. Anyone raising kids as a single parent knows, you do what you can. Make cuts here, splurge there (splurges are almost always for the kids) but you do it. You do it all. There’s no choice. As they grow, you pass on the hallmark values. You tell your kids that nothing is impossible and that they could do anything that they put their little hearts and minds to. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">When it’s your turn to do your part in actually setting the example and <i>you</i></span><span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;"> don’t even believe the hype. I personally have written over 10 books and I am absolutely proud of all that I’ve done. But what </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>have</i></span><span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;"> I done? There’s nothing other than the books that sit on the shelf collecting dust, that could show for what I’ve done. Money? We are still making cuts and calculating splurges. What is the message that I’m sending these kids? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Mommy doesn’t know her value.” “Mommy is a little lost.” “Mommy doesn’t believe in herself.” All I keep thinking is, “DAMN, Mommy is a hypocrite!!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hypocrites tell people things they don’t believe themselves. All I keep thinking is: “Why don’t I believe in myself? Why don’t I believe I’m worth the risk? Why don’t I believe that I can make it? What message am I <i>really</i></span><span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;"> sending these kids?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t want the kids to see me struggle to make my dream come true, but that’s what they see. Now I think, “Is it my fault that we’re struggling?” Sure, there’s been times when they’ve seen me make a nice chunk when I’ve done an extensive editing or ghostwriting project. That’s when we go to Disney World and they get great toys. Then there’s the “<i>drought</i></span><span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;">” times that Mommy has to say no. No trips and no new toys. Now is the time for me not to just rest on my editing for money, but to take the leap in believing in my books. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m not saying that I would immediately strike it rich when the world loves my books. I’m just asking myself, “Am I living up to my full potential? Am I doing my best?” I just came to the realization that I’m not. There is no reason that the good times can’t continue. No reason that the kids have to worry about money. That’s not their job. That’s <i>my</i></span><span style="font-size: large; font-style: normal;"> job. I want what’s best for them so now that it is the time for them to see me shine and pave a way for them. Not being afraid. Not being a hypocrite.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-90223732141792826842011-01-17T06:37:00.012-05:002011-12-01T09:38:32.844-05:00Stage Fright<div style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes, no matter how good you are, you stand on the big stage and freeze. No one can ever explain why. Fear of failure, fear of success or just plain fear. Yet, we practice our lines and prepare feverishly to make sure that we have it all right. Then when we get up there, in front of hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions, we fall flat. How do we do this? Why? </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">Me? I think too much. I put too much pressure on myself. I prepare too hard to lose it. But I do. I just finished the 3rd book in my children's book series. Although it's not my first book series <a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/talktome.html" target="_blank"><i>(I also have the "Talk to Me" Communication Series)</i></a> In all of my accomplishments, I'm proud and happy. But I'm also afraid and lost. All i keep asking myself is: Now what? </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">I have to realize that I'm not as good as i think i am, I'm waaaay better. I need to let the world know that. Now that I have prepared for the role of a lifetime, I will step out onstage and give them my best. The world deserves it. I deserve it.</div><div style="clear: both; font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small; text-align: center;">Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5</div>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-42850912884365801162010-11-22T12:07:00.001-05:002011-12-01T09:43:51.065-05:00inspirationsEarly this month, I took my son to see Mo Willems, the multi-talented, multi-award winning children's book writer and illustrator at Books of Wonder in NYC. My now ex-boyfriend accompanied me at the time (for moral support, AKA my sanity from the hectic<i>ness</i> of the screaming kids.)<br />
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Beyond being overtired from constantly overexerting myself, I had a banging headache that being at a children's book signing would just make worse. But there I was. It had meant so much to Bam that we went as he is a fan of EVERYTHING Mo Willems writes, especially the Elephant and Piggie books. So there he is. mo Willems. The master at work. "No flash photography, please." (to the extra hard headed parents) He becomes animated as he reads the book, "We Are in a Book!" the latest in Elephant and Piggie books. My son, who was first in line, had his Knuffle Bunny (another book series he wrote) ears on, sitting in the front row. Eating it all up.<br />
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My boyfriend, looks at me, gives me the eyebrow and says, "You really need to do this."<br />
I look down. "I know."<br />
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Truth is, the kids, my son, Bam and my niece have been asking repeatedly about all of us writing a book together. They even came up with a name, "<i>Stickboy and Cookie</i>." Sounded cute, so we stuck with it.<br />
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When he gave me the eyebrow, I knew that I had to finally follow through.<br />
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So on the way home, I sketched Cookie. I was fighting with Stickboy (who still doesn't look like a stick at all.) I got home and began to write the words.<br />
What happened? I shocked the hell out of myself! I finished my first Stickboy and Cookie book in 3 days! Illustrations included. THAT'S HUGE!!!!<br />
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After that, what did I do? I wrote another one!<br />
What is the craziest thing is I, for the life of me, haven't finished books that I've been working on for years, let alone keeping up with this blog or any other ones I had been working on. But I took on this project and just did it!<br />
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On a roll, I began to add on to one of the books I've been writing. And the flow continues...<br />
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So with that, I thank Bam, for asking me to take you to see Mo Willems. To Mo Willems for being brilliant. And to my ex-boyfriend for giving me the eyebrow. ;)<br />
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<a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/kidstuff.html" target="_blank">MissBirdiesBooks</a>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-55848155257290409122010-11-05T10:09:00.001-04:002011-12-01T09:44:40.202-05:00Rejection<div style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Sorry, we have decided to reject your book proposal. It doesn't fit with the type of direction our company is going in. We wish you the best in your future endeavors.</i> (or something like that)</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">OK. I received my first rejection letter yesterday. I know. I shouldn't take it personal. But I did. I do. I guess I'm used to holding it all in and ever since I've been working for myself, I haven't had to worry about anyone else's opinion of my work in that aspect. I edit. I freelance. No one has ever told me that my work wasn't good enough or wasn't what they were looking for. In this industry, they say for writers to brace themselves more more rejection. But I've always dodged that bullet.</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">So, I put myself out there and decided to share my work and the answer is no. And I honestly don't know what to do with that. Then I remember why I started my company in the first place. I wanted to share my books, on my terms and have been doing so for over 10 years. 8 books later, I'm asking myself, "What happened?"</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">My terms became too small for my message. That's it. The entire reason why I decided to put myself out there in the first place. My intentions are stronger than my voice. I needed some help. I need some help.</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">So I decided that it was time to change up. Time to do things differently. Shake up the way I've been handling things. Figure some stuff out.</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe I'm meant to stretch my own boundaries instead of trying to be defined by others. OK.</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe I'm supposed to do both. Stretch my horizons and get the "powers that be" to help expand those horizons. Duh.</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">Now that the rant is over, it's back to the drawing board. No feeling sorry for myself. Sent the baby to Grandma's. Back to work. Solitary confinement ON!</div>Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-58402316087215629092010-09-30T14:51:00.004-04:002014-08-21T07:53:46.449-04:00Underachieving... Overachiever<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Something was heavy on my heart last night and I couldn’t figure it out. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to talk to Facebook about it. You know how we vaguely put it out there, and get feedback that eases you for the moment. This was a heaviness that I had to work out in-house. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I didn’t have any liquor easily accessible to drown my sorrows with but this was an emergency! So I opened my 8-year Bacardi that I “forgot about”. The one you can only get in Puerto Rico, the one you’ve saved for a special occasion. Yeah, that bottle. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">When I got that buzz (which was after the first drink, after all it was that </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">good stuff</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">) I got angry. Angry with myself because of all of the time I </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">“waste”</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> helping everyone else, other than myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people. Giving advice, words of encouragement, doing consulting work and short projects for friends, for free. So why am I angry with myself? </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">So when I sat down to write this, I had that cry. That long, hearty, throaty cry (not too loud, Bam was asleep). I really needed to get it out. As I cried, I realized what it was really about. I was feeling the “treadmill effect”. I kept on thinking of how lost I was feeling, how much I needed clarity and how no matter how much and how I work, I’m still getting nowhere.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Ahhh… Now we are getting down to the nitty gritty…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Or is it just that I’m really hiding behind what I do for others because I can’t face my own potential? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Without sounding totally arrogant, I already know I’m talented, so I don’t second-guess myself with that. I don’t mince words, I can give advice with the best of them. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">At the end of my cry, I kept asking myself what the hell was I </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">really</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> waiting for? I’m not satisfied with the way my life is going. A bonafide under-achieving… over-acheiver. Mind you, I’m the one driving this vehicle. No one is making me go this way. No one else is in this car but me and Bam and he’s a six-year old that’s just content to have a window seat. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">But seriously, I keep feeling like I’m running out of time. And I’ve been bullshyting while the clock is still going. Not really bullshyting, but more like avoiding the inevitable that is my destiny. Ok, I’ve been bullshyting.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">The bottom-line to my outpour: It’s all in my hands. I have to stop acting like everything I deserve will all magically appear. I have to constantly keep actively working on it. No more taking on projects that take me away from what I should be doing: Taking care of my own business. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">So after I take this last sip of this damn good rum (that I’m going to “hide from myself” and vow not to drink until a real good occasion comes along) I’m going to work my damnedest to finish this book that publishers are already interested in. Before they forget about me…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Visit </span><a href="http://missbirdiesbooks.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">MissBirdiesBooks.com</span></a></div>
Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117240063960922530.post-42393377091969461542010-08-16T17:31:00.004-04:002014-08-21T07:54:34.020-04:00Fear and Hiding<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">So I just jumped off a building. Just kidding. I just jumped into life, once again. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">For the longest, I've been hiding. From what? I still don't know. I guess it was fear of failure, rejection, maybe even success.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">Bad business decisions. Ending friendships. Dead relationship. I guess I was traumatized. So I ran for cover. Problem was, I got stuck. I needed to feel safe again. Problem is, when you want to feel safe, after your heart slows down, you get warm and cozy. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">Warm and cozy is dangerous. Especially when you are a self-employed businesswoman. Warm and cozy does not pay bills.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">When you're broke and hungry, warm and cozy gets uncomfortable. You have to come out sometime. Hiding from what I was hiding from was fear of being hurt again. I had lost enough in such a short time, I wanted to be OK. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">Now that my heart is mending, my mind isn't as scattered. I'm in a better position to see that where I was before was nowhere I needed to be for my success. At least for my success to last. The fat had to be trimmed. The burdens had to be lifted.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">Everything that happened, had to happen for me to get back on track.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">So today, I'm no longer afraid. I'm not paralyzed with fear. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">Today, I dove back in.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.missbirdiesbooks.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">Visit MissBirdiesBooks.com</span></span></a></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Birdie Chessonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05205235656032128407noreply@blogger.com