The curtain call for 42 🎭

It's my birthday, Reader!

I'm 43 today, and I'm writing to you on purpose, because so many of you have been in the room for some part of this story. A stage, a classroom, a board meeting, a brunch table. You've seen some of these shows live.

So you're getting the program notes.

This week I wrote about my sunshine years, from 21 to 42. At 21, I was at Tennessee State: show choir, dance team, sorority, and somehow still not at home. So I performed. Eight shows a week, for 20 years, in classrooms and boardrooms and every organization that asked me to serve. And I never got the ovation I was looking for.

Then I said the quiet part out loud: I never wanted to be a teacher in the first place.

I was cast in a dream role that was never mine, with every good intention. At 41, I walked off that stage and bet on myself.

Here's my birthday ask: sit down for five minutes today and write the names of the people you've been performing for. Then ask whether any of them ever bought a ticket. If the answer stings, Sis, that's information.

Here's what's up this week:

8 Shows a Week for 42 years. 👉 Read the full letter on Substack ​ That's a lot of energy for a very small return. Read the whole story of what I learned from the exhaustion that kind of performance was bringing into my life and what I learned about who I have been performing for all this time. Read it here!

The Transition Room - Birthday Edition! I recorded this one ahead of time so I could spend my birthday doing what I want. (Growth!) We're walking through all seven performances and which one you're ready to close. ​ Watch the Recording

Catch up on the conversation this week:

• ​7 Performance Habits I'm Letting Go Find the one you're still giving eight times a week.
• ​"Still didn't feel at home" About 60 seconds of what 21-year-old me wished she knew.
• ​"I never wanted to be a teacher" For the colleague who's excellent in the wrong role.

And now, the part I mean most. You've known me in many of my roles. If you're ready to close a show of your own and figure out your next act, book a call with me.​

And if you've got a project, a new adventure, or a partnership you want to dream about with somebody who's done auditioning, grab a virtual coffee with me. That'd be a pretty great birthday present, honestly.

​
​

Chanda Birthday Girl, Officially Done Auditioning | J9 Collective

P.S. Tomorrow I'll tell you what I did on my birthday morning, before anybody else was awake. It involves water, the earth, and my ancestors. Keep an eye out.