She’s the Real Deal
When I say she’s the real deal, I mean, I’m the real deal.
At 18 years old, I left for NYC to conquer the world. Immature and wildly naïve, I was running away from an origin family that was self-destructing. My father lost his job, my mother and father were fighting like crazy and losing their home, my childhood home, to foreclosure. Next came, bankruptcy, housing insecurity, food insecurity, medical insecurity and a complete collapse of all that I knew. As a family, we went off the deep end and any emergency funds that my mom could have located, were quickly (and unfairly) commandeered by my newly diagnosed bi-polar father. In NY, I ‘hooked’ up with the wrong kinds of people leading me to do things I’m not proud of. Things like making a drug run into Harlem at 2:00 a.m. with unsavory characters that associated with my boyfriend who was actually a 32 year old man. I saw babies in diapers wandering aimlessly down the sidewalk in the middle of the night. Paul and his brother co-owned a seedy little bar in an old brick building on the corner in a historic blue-collar town. I’m the real deal. In those first few years, lets talk directionless, homeless, penniless and without any support to lean on, or any guidance to turn to, I learned early on that life can be very unforgiving to those who don’t learn from their mistakes. Or their parents mistakes. We must learn from their mistakes too because the imprinting is there. It’s with us, always with us like a shadow that flips when we do. I’ve battled self-worth, self-acceptance, depression, programming, boundaries, barriers, limiting beliefs, prejudice, classicism, purpose and a perfect implosion of self-misunderstanding. I’ve fought with my own thoughts on social norms, family, faith and upbringing. Like, why did people endorse (my friends’ parents) the need to own two (exact same) white Lincoln Continentals and why did they need to be housed in a perfectly clean garage on a bleached white concrete floor that one could eat off of? Why did her mom think it was O.K. to prance around us (and her own teen sons) bragging of her bone-thin bikini body that she showcased even after giving birth to four kids? So many questions. So many mixed messages! Suffice to say, I could write a manifesto on what I’ve witnessed, heard and experienced in my life. I trace the origins of my coaching back to 1986. That’s when I began watching The Oprah Winfrey Show. She opened a thousand doors to what is now known as the self-help industry. Oh, there was always some sort of self help out there, but it never looked like me, spoke to me or understood me until HRH Oprah kicked down the door for the rest of us. I’m the real deal. As your coach, when I say, I GET YOU! Trust me, I really friggin do! There’s nothing you can say that will shock me. There’s hardly a coaching challenge we can’t tackle together. I’ll be for you what I needed when I struggled with focus and direction. I’m your big sis, your wise-advisor and I honestly love you. I’m here for you, I’m your ANB! ~ XO
