“Boo Boo here, Boo Boo here,” he said. He pointed to his head and throat.
Check his temperature.
It’s 99.2 degrees. Ok. That is elevated. Not enough to keep him out of school.
“Boo Boo here, Boo Boo here, NO SCHOOL!”
Is he crying wolf? He has been known to. Rarely does he want to go to school. He is my child.
How is his behavior? How was he yesterday?
The morning was full of mini-meltdowns. Christmas vacation is a hard one to overcome, though. Transitioning from being at home to going back to school is always hard. Is that what’s going on?
Yesterday, was some good, some bad.
Was he bored? Did I do our home schedule correctly? He does mirror my mood, so, was I in a good mood?
Did he have a good night?
Yes. He did have a hard time waking up.
How do his eyes look?
They seem to be causing him trouble. Itchy and bothersome.
Any other clues?
He had a deep cough a couple of times in the night. It sounds like the one he had when he was diagnosed with strep a couple of weeks ago. We are all done with the antibiotic, so, is this a reoccurrence?
“Boo Boo here, Boo Boo here.”
I’ll call the school nurse. Maybe she will have good advice.
“Yeah. The flu is going around as well as a few other viruses. His temp isn’t over 100 degrees, so he can come to school, but with the elevated temp, I bet he is fighting something off.”
Ok. No school. My child may be sick. He may not be. Either way, I have to make the call.
Do I believe my kid?
Yes and No. I have not believed him before. I made him go to the doctor. Yep. He was sick. I hate being proven wrong.
Most kids do this. Some have perfected the technique of getting out of going to school. It is different with a non-verbal child. My son doesn’t have a lot of words. It is also the same as typical developers. He does have the ability to lie with confidence.
I’d rather him be pulling a fast one than to be sick. We shall see. The doctor will see us today.
I’ve often wondered if my mother learned to cook biscuits before she knew how to walk.
Mom is the oldest of 4 children. Her mom had serious heart problems, and from an early age, mom was responsible for helping out around the house. One of her chores was making biscuits.Her grandmother taught her the technique.
Over the years, she studied the art. Once, a lady brought mom biscuits, and mom was intrigued by the fluffiness. She asked the lady how she got them so fluffy, and the lady spilled her secret: White Lily Self-Rising Flour. Since then, mom uses this flour for her biscuits. As a matter of fact, when all of the family comes to town, she buys a new bag of flour. It must be fresh!
I’ve been eating my mother’s biscuits all of my life. They are savory clouds of biscuit heaven. Pour on some gravy, and you have yourself supper. Slap on some butter and jam, and you have yourself a desert!Personally, I like to scavenge the crumbs off the pan after the biscuits are gone.
SOUTHERN COOKS DON’T MEASURE
Southern cooks are notorious for “eyeballing” the measurements. (It is frustrating when you are trying to learn.) “Eyeballing” is equivalent to “that looks about right,” or, “it needs a touch more,” or, “you add this much till it looks like this.” For southern cooks, making a dish is more of an art than a science.
“This is a good batch of biscuits!” or “These biscuits aren’t that good,” mom will say as we are all stuffing our mouths. We cannot tell the difference. They are all divine. Only the artist knows the secret to perfection, and only the artist knows whether their art measures up.
With this being said, I cannot give you exact measurements. Instead, I have made a video of the artist creating a masterpiece.
Mama’s Fluffy Southern Buttermilk Biscuits
What you need:
White Lily Self-Rising Flour
Crisco
Buttermilk
(The above 3 items need to be fresh)
A bowl
A sifter
A fork
Wilton Cake Pan (Round) *Mom swears this makes a difference*
Very Clean Hands
Directions (Sort of)
Preheat Oven to 450 degrees
Sift approximately 3 full cups of flour
GREASE your biscuit pan
Add in 4 spoonfuls (‘ish…see the video) of crisco
Cut the Crisco into the flour (Watch the video for this technique)
Pour in the buttermilk (Watch the video for how much)
Mix it in (Again…watch the video)
Flour up your hands (Biscuits are sticky)
LIGHTLY roll the biscuits and place in the pan
~VERY IMPORTANT TIP~
DO NOT OVER WORK THE BISCUITS AT ANY STAGE!
THE LESS YOU HANDLE THEM, THE BETTER!
Place them in the oven towards the top to keep the bottoms from burning.
Cook until they are golden brown.
This technique takes practice. Mom has been making these biscuits for decades. If you can catch on to perfecting these, your family will be OH SO THANKFUL!
IDEAS FOR WHEN THEY ARE DONE
Here are some ideas for garnishing your biscuits with a little more unhealthy taste bud tantalizing treats:
A pad of butter mixed in with some honey
Peanut butter and honey mixed up
Peanut butter and jelly mixed up
Jam or Jelly (with butter, of course)
Gravy of any sort. We do a tomato gravy. It sounds gross…but..have mercy. It’s slap your mama good. (No worries, mom. I won’t slap you, but I will want to. Lol!)
Honestly, there is no wrong way to do it! Sweet or otherwise, these things are heaven on earth.
I cried all the way home from taking Asher to school. “Parade of the Wooden Soldiers” blasted from the stereo. I turned the volume up more as I focused through the tears.
A few years ago, Asher was dismissed from (kicked out of) a children’s program. His behavior was too challenging. I was devastated. We left the church. I realized Asher would most likely never be allowed to be a part of a program where they had shows and costumes. It broke my heart because these are the memories from my childhood that always put a smile on my face. He would have no such memories. It took me a good year not to want to punch someone. It took a year more not to want to curse the names of those responsible. Now, I don’t care. (See a past post: When Dreams Die)
Why?
Someone wanted my son to be a part of a program. They not only wanted him there, they made every effort to make sure he could be a part. He was accepted and embraced!
We had tried the Merrimack Hall program for special needs children when Asher was 3. He was not ready, and I was afraid to even try again. This year, I enrolled him in the summer camp program.
The whole week was full of dancing and singing and art. At the end of the week, they put on a show for the parents. It was AMAZING! I cried through the whole show. There my little boy was, and as I thought, he was smashing! He danced and smiled and did exactly what he was not suppose to do. Everyone was ok with it! He grabbed one of the scarves from a previous dance and twirled and smiled and shook his booty. I thought he stole the show.
His reaction to being there sparked another round of tears for mommy. His excitement was contagious! Every day, he would act out all of the activities he enjoyed. There was no doubt: he would be enrolled in the fall/spring program.
Merrimack pairs each special needs child with a helper. Asher has 2 helpers: 1 for his tumbling class and 1 for his dance class. He loves these girls! They love him back. It is beautiful.
SURPRISE!
Because I am sometimes a bit slow on the uptake, and my emails from the hall were going to my junk inbox, I didn’t know about their Christmas show until 2 weeks before it was to be performed. Asher had been absent from class for almost a month due to one sickness after another. I was in the dark.
I wish I was a good enough writer to put into words how excited I was when I learned of his Christmas show. The program director sent out videos so we could rehearse the dance. It was so cute!!
More tears.
Then, because this is my first year with the program, I found out they had costumes. I was handed his costume at the end of class on Monday.
Tears again.
It was PRECIOUS!!! How can this dream be so perfect? This is so far beyond a little local church show. This is the real thing. This is high class production. Not one detail is missed for these children. They get the best.
On Wednesday, I got another costume.
Are you trying to dehydrate me with all this crying, Merrimack Hall?
The costume was, again, PRECIOUS. My little boy would be all dressed up and doing a dance for people who pay to see the show. A quality show with trained helpers and leaders whom accept my little boy.
The surprises kept coming when, after Wednesday rehearsal, Asher’s helper and he showed me his dance. He was so good at it! He knew all of the moves! The dance teacher made sure I knew which video to watch and the song to listen to.
SCHOOL JAM
One day, on the way to school, I surprised Asher with the song blaring over the speakers. In the rear view mirror, his smile lit up the sun.
I kept it together until I dropped him off.
Once he was safely in his teacher’s care, I turned the song back on and let the joy roll down my cheeks.
What people don’t understand about parenting a special needs child is this:
We want the same thing for our children all other parents want for their children. We want them to be loved and accepted.
In this world, it is not often the case. We have to deal with segregation and frustration on a daily basis. It is agony for a parent. We see our children and know their challenges.
But, we also see billions of reasons you should love our child.
THE REHEARSAL
The day of the dress rehearsal, my son had a tooth loose. It became more and more loose as the day progressed. By the time we reached Merrimack, the tooth was barely hanging on. He was frightfully frustrated by it all.
When we dropped him off with his helper, he was in no mood to dance. He would take his hat from his costume and throw it into the trash…over and over. His helper looked a bit fearful as we departed. We were not allowed in dress rehearsal.
When we returned, Asher proudly smiled big to show off his missing tooth. “It came out after tumbling,” the helper told us. This was something to celebrate! I had been so worried the tooth would hang on through the show the following night. The worries were gone!
THE SHOW
I made sure I wore my fancy clothes, curled my hair and carefully applied make-up. My husband dressed up as well. The night was too important to our family for carelessness.
I dropped Ash off in the dance hall, hugged his neck, and quietly spoke, “break a leg!” I dared not let him hear me. It would have been too hard to explain.
My husband and I found our seats. I had my phone camera ready and my professional camera ready. I’m certain I went a bit overboard, but, oh well. One must do what one must do.
Asher was in the 3rd group. He did a great job! I was surprised how nervous he looked. The big overtures he made while practicing at home were blanketed in fear as he made his way through the choreography. His helper later told me that when he saw all of the people in the audience, he said, “Oh man!” It was a surprise to him. But, instead of giving into his fear, he gave way to his training and marched onto the stage. This is part of learning how to be a performer, and I was THRILLED! He did all of his moves, and looked as cute as a button. It took everything in me not to run onto the stage, gather him in my arms, and tell him how proud I was!
His tumbling came 2 acts later. Again, he did remarkably well!
After the show, I rushed in to see him. He was full of life and happiness. He handed roses to his helpers, and we went onto the stage to meet Santa and take a few photos.
The whole night was magical.
WARM CHRISTMAS
Merrimack Hall has brought our family a warmth I never thought we would experience. It is a place Asher is excited to visit. He absolutely loves it, and I never have to reason with him to get into the car. He bounces right out the door.
Merrimack makes certain the children and adults receive the best. There are no short cuts…Only quality instruction and shows.
I’m crying again. It is the weird crying laughing thing going on.
As I am writing this, I have “Parade of the Wooden Soldiers” playing. I have to stop writing every now and again to wipe my nose.
I am so proud of my son. I would not change one thing about him. Merrimack Hall wouldn’t either. They love him exactly as he is. He is not to change one little bit. Open arms and smiles greet Asher each time he walks in the door.
By the end of the night, I had black tear lines dripping over my cheeks.
Why?
Because, more than once, my child was not wanted. He was not loved. He was cast aside.
Now, he is twirling around in happiness and acceptance.
Asher is the best person I’ve known. Merrimack Hall plans to let the world know, and I will cry happy tears as he shines.
Merrimack Hall is a non-profit organization providing programs for special needs children and adults. Click HERE to donate to this amazing program.
The winding country roads filled with clouds of dust and dirt as my friend, Jerry Dwain, navigated the sharp turns and twists like a NASCAR driver. He owned a bright blue Z28, and he drove it at full capacity.
The day had begun with a simple request.
“Hey, Autumn! I’m headed out to look at a horse. Wanna come?”
I agreed.
Jerry Dwain, was horse crazy. This part of his life I only heard about. My eagerness to support him in his pursuits caused me to accept the invitation.
CHILDHOOD ALLERGIES
As a child, I had severe allergies. Most foods, mold, mildew, and all animals caused me to go into reactions. Often, the reactions would send me to the hospital. Much of my early years, I considered the hospital to be a second home.
The worst of the reactions?
Horse hair/dander
Before my parents knew any of this, they allowed me, at 2 years old, to go on a horseback ride with a family friend. Not long after this ride, I came close to death. I stayed in the hospital for 2 weeks. It would not be the last time.
My parents tried to avoid horses, but with horse and cattle farms everywhere in our South Alabama culture, it was impossible.
My little sister once went horseback riding with a friend. As soon as she stepped into the house, the allergies kicked my butt. Back to the hospital for me, and I never touched her.
These types of situations happened all the time. The doctors said I would outgrow the allergies. I believed them.
NOT ANOTHER FRIEND!
Many years later, I met my soul sister, Cris. This friendship was “love at first sight”. We swear we were friends in previous lives. Then, she said these words: “I love horses!”
“Well, shit,” I responded.
She laughed at me. I told her my predicament.
“Well, shit.” She responded.
Then, we found out we were pregnant the same month. Our firstborn children were born 4 days apart.
Cris had gotten serious about her horses, and her daughter, as a babe, would frequent the barn. I wanted my son to go, too. How could I keep this wonder from him? It broke my heart.
RETRAIN THE MEMBRANE
After Asher’s diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder, Cris called.
“Girl! Get him involved with Happy Trails! They are awesome!”
“I wish I could, but…” Cris understood. She knew something I did not, but, being a great friend, she waited to tell me.
Cris started a teacher facilitator program a few years later. The program worked with horses and humans. Yoga, Somatics, and other alternative therapies taught students how to help others. She asked if I would be her guinea pig. I told her it was fine, but, NO HORSES! She agreed, and in January 2017, we began.
The lessons were odd. It took me a minute to become accustomed to the style, but after a lesson or 2, I was starting to see differences.
Cris gave me a list of questions to answer, and one of those questions led me to where I am today.
“What is a dream you never think you’ll see come true.” (A synopsis)
Easy one.
I want my child to be in therapy at Happy Trails, and I want to ride horses.
When I told Cris my answer, she smiled.
“I’ve been waiting to talk to you about this,” she said. “I do not doubt you have allergies, but I believe your biggest problem with horses is PTSD.”
My face must have mirrored my confused mind.
“Autumn, you went through a lot. Why don’t you have the doctor run an allergy test on you to see where you are now. Then, we will take the next steps to make this dream come true. We are doing this. Are you in?”
“Uh…let me think about it.” That’s exactly what I did.
A couple of months later, I called the doctor.
The results of the test were encouraging. The nurse said, “Wear a mask and gloves, make sure your arms are covered around the horses, and you will be fine.”
I asked, “So, what exactly will be my reaction? Will I need hospitalization if I do not do these things?”
“No,” she answered. “You will need allergy medicine. You’ll be sneezing and itchy. Allergy meds will take care of it.”
“Ok,” I responded with a shake, “so, if I start allergy meds daily, will that cover it?”
“Yep. It should. Take it slow. Be mindful. Take your meds. You will be ok.”
JUMPING INTO THE WATER
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I walked over to the horses. It was Cris’ daughter’s 8th birthday. They had recently moved to a majestic farm. They had also moved their horses, and the barn was close to the house. This was my first visit since the horses moved. Fear gripped me.
“It is ok, Autumn. You have meds on board. Let them come to you. You’ll never know what will happen unless you try.” I convinced myself and proceeded with caution.
Indiana Jones walked over to me (a beautiful, gentle horse). I reached up and touched his soft nose. I looked him in the eye and smiled. Everything was ok! I cried.
GET ME HOME!
Jerry Dwain rounded the sharp curves, “OH GOD! GET ME HOME, JD!”
My dad came home not long after we arrived. Jerry Dwain sat in a chair staring at me as I struggled with my body on the couch. Dad relieved him of his duties.
“Autumn, what were you thinking?” Dad was angry as he handed me my meds. “Go get in the shower and wash it off. If you get any worse, we will head to the hospital.”
A hospital visit proved unnecessary. Though the night was difficult, I managed to stay above the line of emergency.
HAPPY TRAILS
“Sure! I’m there on Friday. Would you and your son like to come out then?” I had spoken to Kathi, the owner of Happy Trails, of my horse allergy drama. She was happy to help me overcome my trials. We would take it slow.
We arrived and were greeted by a dog fascinated with the game of fetch. My husband and Asher played with the dog until Kathi returned from a ride.
After the introductions, a horse, a gorgeous brown horse with black legs that looked to be dipped in paint, caught my attention.
“She is gorgeous!” I exclaimed to Kathi.
“Let’s go meet her. Her name is Zoe. She is an Arabian.”
I had smelled the horses in the air. The mask was in my hand at the ready, and I had used it a few times out of pure fear. But, for Zoe, I wanted to be without it. I didn’t want to frighten her.
Kathi attached all the head gear and explained the purpose of each rope as she worked. I couldn’t wait, so I walked over to Zoe. My stomach bubbled with excitement and fear. I reached up and stroked her face.
“Hello, Zoe! You are a beautiful horse! And you know what else? You are helping me overcome a mighty giant. I will always love you for it.”
My courage mounted as Kathi handed me the rope and allowed me to play a game with Zoe.
I continued patting her face, her hair, her neck, and her body.
No reaction.
We went into the barn and met the other horses.
No reaction.
Kathi’s brilliance and training was clear. Her presence told me if I needed a break, it would be fine. Her confidence in my ability to triumph surpassed my fears.
When it was time to go, she encouraged me to sign Asher up for lessons. I knew he would thrive in this environment. His countenance, being around the horses, had changed. Yes. He would be signed up.
PTSD BE DAMNED
I got a little sneezy when I returned home, but, I was fine. I also made my son and husband strip their clothes and put them straight in the wash. Old habits die hard.
PTSD, at its core, speaks lies. Though the experiences that caused the PTSD are real, future reactions to similar experiences are not. It takes a retraining of the brain to realize the new is not the old. After years of desire, I finally torched the idea I would never touch a horse.
One of the first things I did after going to the farm was to send a picture to Cris. She was thrilled!
Then, I sent the photo to Jerry Dwain. He and his husband own a horse farm in Florida. JD has become a notable horseman, and he breeds show horses. This was his response to my photo: “The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man.”
Yes, Jerry Dwain. You speak the truth.
As a child, the outside of a horse broke the inside of me. The doctor said I would outgrow it, and I did. What I did not outgrow was fear. Fear, as I have learned, is not something to outgrow. It must be fought.
After years of PTSD symptoms, the thing that almost killed me healed me. The war within my body turned into a war within my mind. Winning did not occur overnight. It was a steady uphill battle. But, when the battle ended, a dream came true.
This non-profit is a worthy cause. To sign up or donate, please visit their website!
Quote from their site:
“We are horse lovers who use horses to improve the lives of children and adults with disabilities. Our
goal is that the personal confidence students gain from Therapeutic Riding will affect their lives in a
positive way.”
Cris Pyle works with people and horses. She offers her expertise to those wanting to become their best, and her services are available for helping your horses, too!
I stepped up onto the platform. It was higher than I first thought. Too high. I don’t like heights. Though the padding below promised a soft landing, it did little in the way of helping me feel confident.
“You are the Simone Biles of klutz. This is not a good idea.”
The voice in my head spoke these words loudly as my palms got sweaty, and my knees shook.
A kid, about 4 or 5 years old, skipped me in line…again. I let him. I was still trying to decide whether to take the stairs back down to safety or jettison myself off of this platform and slide through the air.
“Surly, the folks who built this indoor trampoline playground tested this. Look! The four year old is killin’ this! Wait…we did have to sign a waiver. Why did we have to sign the waiver? Is this thing safe?”
As the words floated into my conscience, another voice spoke up and made me move over to the zip line.
“It’s time to give your fear the middle finger, girl. Do this.”
Fear is a constant source of trouble. As someone with an anxiety disorder, my fight is daily and constant. Making decisions, even simple ones, is complicated and gut clinching. Even when I don’t have to make a quick decision, the thought of having to make a decision in the future can send me spiraling. My mind stays in hyperdrive most of the day. There are times I will even wake in the middle of the night in a panic.
Fear.
After I was diagnosed with the disorder, I began to seek out the best ways to handle it. I spent hours online reading articles and testimonies on the effects of anxiety. Often, I would find myself whispering, “Amen,” to the computer screen.
Over the last 6 years, I have tried many tactics and self-help tricks, but few proved worthy.This list is what has worked for me.
It is a mantra I speak to myself daily, and I put it into action.
FLIP OFF FEAR IN 5 STEPS
1. NAME THE DEVIL
Fear is cunning. It likes to dress itself up in costumes of other emotions. There are times I think I am feeling angry, but once I start to strip away the burning desire to scream, fear is hiding in the corner snickering. It is the same with sadness, jealousy, and so on.
I look at this sniveling little nuisance and begin to work through the rest of the list.
What happens if I don’t work through this list? What if I stop at naming the devil?
Fear begets more fear and births doubt.
“I’m afraid of this fear. I cannot do this! I cannot conquer it! It is stronger than I am…”
Before I can count to 5, the little freak as doubled in size, multiplied, and gone into hiding again. It has cloaked itself in my self-doubt and slithers away into the shadows. It knows if it stays in the shadows, it can restart it’s destruction. It finds a suitable costume, and the process begins again.
Unless a decision is made to fight this battle now, it only makes the battle worse later.
The first weapon in the arsenal is naming it.
Name the devil. Then, take the next step.
2. BREATHE
Fear hates oxygen. What it wants to do is send the mind in a tailspin. It wants us to sweat, get nauseous, wide-eyed, and paralyzed.
It wants us to hold our breath.
But, when we start to fill up it’s living quarters with oxygen, it starts squirming like a fish on the sea shore.
Why?
Oxygen feeds our brain. It helps us to think deliberately and strategically. It calms everything down when fear has stirred it all up.
Once fear has begun to fear it’s own demise, it will roar. It will go into it’s own version of a panic attack. It does not want to loose it’s playground and is cozy at home in the recesses of your brain.
What does that look like?
More fear and more doubt.
It is to be expected. This is the reaction of all things about to die. Letting fear’s fear take over only allows it to get a foot hold to fight back. Keep going.
Name it, breathe deeply, and take the next step.
3. SPEAK TRUTH
Now, the devil is backed into a corner, it begins spewing words of doubt.
“Look at you, little wimp, thinking you can defeat me!,” it cries in a monstrous cackle.
Arguing with fear does no good.
Fear is a bully.
No matter what is said to it, it will have a response. Generally, it will be laughing at you.
So, how to get through this part of the battle?
Speak truth to yourself…not to your fear.
“I am bigger than fear. I am stronger than fear. I am capable of winning. I will win. I will be the victor. I am the victor.”
Fear will hear these words. As it gags on the oxygen in the brain, it will brag about it’s own strength, wit, and stealth. It will reach it’s dying arms out into the soul and charge it with electrical impulses of fight or flight.
Don’t stop.
Name it, Breathe, and Speak truth. Then, move to the next step.
4. MOVE
The intensity of the battle has reached a climax. Fear is pulling out all of the stops. Every play in the playbook and every trick in the bag is revealed. It knows death is close. It will not go down without a fight.
Now is the time to move.
Move towards the object of your fear. It could be as simple as a decision to walk out the door or as big as stepping out of an airplane for the first time sky diving. Either way, the battle is the same.
Propelling the body towards the feared object or situation requires activation of all the other steps. The little freak will begin to grow larger the closer the object or the situation gets. It does what fear does…attacks.
Name the devil, breathe, speak truth, move…repeat
The devil is defeated when the food supply is gone. It no longer has footing. It no longer has it’s feast. It no longer has doubt as a weapon. Now, the situation has been dealt with, the decision has been made, the snake has been handled, the step out of the airplane has been taken, and fear has been proven wrong.
Fear has been conquered. The battle is won.
Now, take the next step.
5. TRAIN
Prepare for the next battle.
Fear has thousands of identical twins lurking in the corners of the mind. With anxiety disorders, the chemistry in the brain is jacked up. It is a water source for fear.
Slowly, over time, I believe the chemistry can be changed. But, it takes training.
How does one train to conquer fear?
Meditation, exercise and diet.
Like with all training, it takes time. Time to set routines. Time to learn how to do it. Time to conquer fear enough to even start.
Pick one of the above and start slowly. I have found if I do too much too soon, I give up. Starting slowly with training will set those routines in place. Each time you do a session, confidence grows.
If you pick mediation, do a 5-minute mediation every morning or evening and gradually move up in time. If you pick exercise, do 5-minutes a day and move up. If you pick diet, eat one healthy food a day and move up.
Sometimes, a season of training is put on pause due to depression or other issues, it is ok. Let me repeat this again:
IT IS OK!!!!
The trick is to not allow this time of depression or forgetfulness conquer the training. If it has been a long time since training, IT IS OK! Start over with 5-minutes.We all have other battles we face in a day.
NO JUDGEMENT!
Half of the battle with training is learning how to take care of the mind. Taking care of the mind means to be accepting of where one finds themselves.
Fear does not want us to be kind or gentle to ourselves.
It wants a person to feel disappointed in themselves and defeated by themselves. Once a person feels defeated, the voice of fear is amplified over all the other voices of truth.
Being kind to oneself oftentimes requires these same steps listed above:
Name the devil (Self-defeating talk)
Breathe (Oxygen stimulates confidence)
Speak Truth (You truly are worthy and capable.)
Move (Do 5-minutes of training.)
Train (Keep Training)
SIMONE WOULD BE PROUD
I reached out an grabbed the zip-line bars. I looked down at the guy operating the zip-line. He was smiling at me. Something in his smile gave the extra boost of confidence to step off the platform.
I flew through the air. The rushing wind flowed over my face, and I giggled. It was fun! Not only was it fun, it was a win for the “me” team! The carcass of fear dissolved.
I let go of the bars and landed in the soft foam below. Immediately, I gave the zip-line worker 2-thumbs up.
I had won against my own fear. The taste of victory was divine.
With a new-found confidence, I made my way over to the monkey swing. It, too, was on a high platform. Again, I let the little kid skip me in line…several times. I was working on tackling fear.
Courage takes work.
“This is only fear. Breathe, Autumn. Yeah…that’s good. Breathe more. Ok…keep doing that. You can do this. You are stronger than this fear. You are not the Simone Biles of klutz. You are powerful.”
I moved over to the take off area and placed my hands on the swing handle bar. I looked over at the swing worker, and he was smiling.
“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”
I stepped off the platform and into who I truly am.
First of all, I want to give a big internet hug to all of those who supported the “bad sheep” Kickstarter campaign! We made it to the goal! Hooray!
For those who are cheering the book on to success, I give you a big shout out of thanks!!
We are now in the post-Kickstarter stage. Preparations are being made daily for the release of the book. This post is for all of you following the journey from idea to actualization.
HOW “BAD SHEEP” WAS BORN
I awoke with the story. It came to me in a dream. I outlined the story to my groggy husband who was pouring his morning coffee, and he said, “Let’s do it!”
This same morning, I contacted one of my favorite cartoonist’s, David Hayward. After working out the details, he jumped on board.
While awaiting the sketches from David, I spent hours researching children’s books and publishing. I spent hours in my mind going over each detail of the story. I did not give up on finishing, and I did not give in to doubt. *Side note: for those of you starting a children’s book, I suggest doing tons of research on all things children’s books. The time I spent researching the different aspects of self-publishing paid off. However, you will make mistakes. I made a bunch of them. As mistakes go, I learned, and the next book will be smoother sailing.
A couple of months later, I got the email from David. It sent me flying! I saw him: my sweet little bad sheep! I was over the moon!!!
For the most part, the initial sketches are the same as in the book. This is a remarkable accomplishment for 2 artists, whom have never met in person and who live hundreds of miles apart. We were able to find a wavelength and a vision with very few tweaks. Here are some absolutely awful photographs of me showing David the expressions I wanted for the sheep.
Images sent to David Hayward to show facial expressions and the final product.
Then, the process took the turn towards graphic design. With the characters in hand, I spent a couple of months playing with the graphic design. Finally, after consulting my son for direction, the book began to have a fluid appearance. The color schemes worked, the font worked, and the overall design worked.
LEARNING
The fun part of art is conception to actualization. The not so fun part is what to do with the creation once it’s in your hands.
Though I had read about it, I am an artist…not a marketer. Want me to paint you a picture, write you a song, blog, story, novel, or make you a necklace? I’m your girl. It’s covered.
I looked in my hands at the pages of the book, and I asked the question, “What now?”.
So…I researched and found out. Even so, the “ah ha” moment didn’t come easily. I decided to just go with what I knew, and I did.
I needed the funds to get it published.
After asking lots of questions (the best way to learn), I discovered Kickstarter to be the safest bet for all involved: me and the people pledging to the book.
It took me a couple of months to research, layout, design,plan and organize the photo shoot, by Julie McCullough(hair and makeup by Janae Burnside, and assisted by Rachel Harchanko,) write the script for the video practice this script, and create the Kickstarter campaign.
Then, the hardest part for me and most artists, came promotions. Facebook, Instagram, Facebook, Instagram, Facebook, Instagram…………
The pledges came rolling in, and by the end of the 30 days, the Kickstarter was FUNDED!!
WHAT is NEXT?
Now, we are in the planning stages of the launch. Kickstarter has a 2 week hold on the funds. This has put us on an early 2018 launch date. I was hoping for Christmas. Oh well. Life goes on.
Until then, I am marketing my writing through blogs, engagement on social media, website updates, and email list building. The more engagement online, the better the book will sell. It is a simple process, but, it takes a ton of work.
THE ARTIST’S DISCOMFORT
There are days I want to run and hide from the world. There are days I wish I could be invisible online.
Here’s the thing: I want to create stuff and make money doing it. To do this, I cannot be invisible. Yes. There are days I can be quiet online and post an “oldie but a goodie,” but, for the most part, I have to kick my anxiety aside and show up.
Showing up also means book signings, book readings, lectures, stories, and new books. For me, this is fun! I love meeting folks. I love to make kids laugh (the best sound in the world). I love singing silly songs and smiling and listening. I also, like my grandfather, love the stage. I haven’t been on stage for a while, unless you count my dancing and singing in the car, so, it will be welcomed with open arms.
However, there is a level of discomfort in making your art, and yourself, known. Balancing on the tight rope of confidence and comfort has proven to be tricky, yet, it is not impossible.
FINAL THOUGHT
This last year has been a real world education in how to be good at what you do, and how to be loud about it. As I have said…the first part is easy. The second part is not. I am still learning.
The good news is I know more today than I did yesterday.
“Bad Sheep” has been a lesson in endurance, myself, accepting critical advice, measuring excitement in portions to last for days, taking steps daily, and giving up the expectations of others. The biggest lesson I have learned this year is this:
Not everyone will love my work, and it is ok.
I have a several mottos. This is one I wrote for myself:
Put the work out there for the world to see. Whether they like it or not IS NOT Up to me.
Enough people will like what I do to make my work successful. I am certain of it.
*Side note: if you are an artist, whether with the word, paintbrush, pencil, musical instrument, or otherwise, read the motto again…and again…and again. Your work has value not in the acceptance of it but in the essence of it. If one person’s life is touched by what you do, you have done well. Remember, to touch people’s hearts with your art, they must first be able to see (or hear) it. If you are afraid, release it anyway.
There will be more “Bad Sheep” news starting in January, 2018! Also, stay tuned for more projects to be released in 2018! I will be adding photos and blogs to keep everyone up to date!
Until then…
Wow. What an amazing ride.
To read more about Autumn and her work, click HERE!
