Introducing... The Nelsons

Some one once told me that the only person in my life, who will ever really know what my life was like, is my brother. She told me this immediately after I had had a long, angry, violent fight with my younger brother. Needless to say, at the time, I did not believe a word of that nonsense.

             It was not until years later, minutes after I found out that my brother had died, that I believed. I had a deep twinge of pain, and regret hit my stomach like a Buick smashing into a brick wall. Now there would be nobody who really knew what my life was like. I was alone in my memories, and my baby brother was gone.

            A lot of time has passed since Nicholas died. I have had a lot of time to think about the events leading up to his death, and the events that immediately followed. One question remains. Who is to blame? When a seventeen year old boy loses his life, whose fault is it? Sometimes I wonder if it is mine. I tried to save him, mostly from himself. I wanted him to have a better life.

            We grew up in sunny Southern California. Life was hard, as it is for all adolescents, but it was not all bad. Our parents got divorced in the early Nineties. My mom moved away, out of state I think. She moved a lot, and ended up in Washington State.

            We stayed with my dad. This was a decision left to me at age seven. We were already living with my dad. My mom had her own place to live. She came to stay at our apartment, after selling most of her stuff. My dad slept over at his girl friends house.

            Late on the night that my mom was going to leave, for what could have been forever, she came into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and looked down at me. My brother had already fallen asleep in his twin bed next to mine.

            She asked me if I wanted to go away with her. She said that if I did, we would take my brother and just go…now… my dad would never find us! Even at seven I thought to myself, “how dramatic”. I was in a good school with lots of friends; I had two cats, and lots of toys and hamsters. My mom said I would have to leave it all behind, but we would be safe.

            Safe from what? I should have asked.

            I told her No! I was a young child that did not want to leave everything to go away in the night. So she said I only had one chance to make this choice, and she left me to think about it.

            I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I remember is waking up to an empty apartment. My brother was out playing, and my mom was gone.

            I started to cry and called my dads girl friends house to see if he was there. He had already left to take my mom to the train station. She had left me without saying goodbye. When you are young, everything is dramatic. I thought I would never see her again. Children get over things fast, but it would be a decade before I would forgive her for leaving without saying goodbye.

            Life got hard soon after that night. My dad drifted into an alcoholic stupor, and looking back, never really returned. My grandma took over in my moms place. She would come over and clean our apartment, buy us food and clothes, and reprimand us for our bad manners.

            Years passed and my brother and I grew into pre-teenagers. I was two years older than him. We fought a lot! At times I think we actually hated each other. We were both shoplifters and liars. We only got along when we were doing something we shouldn’t be.

            It had become our summer routine to ride our bikes to the local convenience store, steal as much candy as we could, and then go eat it at a park. Actually my brother would do the stealing. I would go buy a large fountain drink; he would tuck his pants into his socks and just drop the candy down his pants. This worked very well because he was sort of scrawny. We wore thrift store clothes, which never fit right. His clothes were always too big for him, making the candy pants un-noticeable.

            We were living in a house down the street from my grandmas’ house by the time this was our routine. We would eat and mostly live at my grandmas house then go home to sleep. One night after a long day of stealing, we were at my grandmas’ house watching TV. The Simpson’s was on. The episode was about Bart stealing, and getting caught. My dad, right at that moment, found our stash of stolen candy and goods in a couch that no one ever used. His reprimand to us both was “just don’t get caught”.

            That was it? No trouble? No consequences? Who wants to rebel if nothing will ever come of it? I no longer found interest in stealing. Looking back I just wanted my dad to react in some way, but he didn’t. Ever.

            His only reactions to anything were fits of rage, brought on by nothing. Everyone around my dad spent a lot of their time with him walking on egg shells. Doing anything not to bring out the angry violent beast that slept within.

            One day, my grandma ordered pizza for dinner. My dad had been taking a nap. When he came out, five minutes after the pizza arrived, he asked if any was left. I said no as he opened the box. When he saw that there was in fact pizza inside he punched me in the face. I got a black eye from it.

             When you grow up in a house of secrets and violence, you are taught what to say to strangers. I was hit with a baseball while playing with my brother. That was my favorite.

            On another occasion my dad, who had broken his ankle jumping off of a swing, was yelling about something and grabbed his crutch like a baseball bat and swung, full force at my head. I was thirteen at this time, and had had enough. I caught the crutch and tore it from his fist. The force knocked him off balance. I grabbed up the crutch and with all the hate and anger I had saved over my life I swung, stopping inches from his head.

            I threw the crutch down at his feet and told him, that this was the end. If he ever raised a hand to me again, I would kill him. He must have believed me, because that was indeed the end. He moved on with his violent anger. He focused instead, on my little brother.

            After all of the madness I could not stand it anymore. I wanted to move away. I had rekindled a relationship with my mom, and she was willing to let me move there. At age sixteen I did. While I was away in Washington, life for my brother got worse. He stopped going to school when he was 11 or 12. He started to deal drugs for my dad. He was never home, and always in trouble.

            One summer I paid for him to move up north with me and mom. It seems that everything that happened in his life from that moment on led directly to his death.  If I had decided to leave him in California, would he still have died here? Would he have died anyway? If I had not decided to intervene, would he have grown up happy and healthy in Southern California? No, I believe that he would have died sooner. Perhaps he was ill fated from the start.

            I am only human. My memories are rose tinted through the haze of my own experiences. I remember a lot, as it seemed to be happening to me. Children remember things in their own way. I do not want to lead you to think everything I say is absolute fact. Too many people who were there have died for me to get the actual truth from anyone. So here is my truth, as I remember it.

            Our lives are confusing, all lives are. In order to understand why things happened the way they did, you have got to know the people, that made the choices, which influenced those lives. So I am going to go back before the beginning and introduce you to The Nelsons. One story at a time.

The Dawning of a New Career

I have referred to a job change in a couple of posts now. on 11.11.11 I started a new job in a new industry. I have left out company names on purpose.

I want to share with you my new job story. I feel like I should start by saying once upon a time. I know life isn’t a fairytale, but in this case it sure does feel like one. 

Once upon a time (and in a galaxy far, far away) I worked for a movie retail company. I chose that company for its potential for professional growth. I love movies and am a bit of a nerd. It was a match made in customer service heaven. For years I was a top performer, leading the ranks in sales and revenue drivers. I had a blast and loved my job. As time passed by the company began to change. The sunshine and rainbows era had passed. As the company struggled to stay out of bankruptcy focus turned to razor sharp sales. I did not have a problem with this, and it happened so slowly, I honestly didn’t even notice. More time passed and after 5 years of service and sacrifice the company did go bankrupt. It was bought by a new company and as a manager along with my peers I was told that with a bit more sacrifice all will be better. So I pushed, and pushed, and sacrificed. I worked 6 or 7 days a week, every week, for months. I averaged over 60 hours a week. As a trainer for the district I tried to take up slack for my peers. There was too much. I fell into a dark cloudy daze. I couldn’t see the end of the tunnel.

I woke up one day to realize I hadn’t been spending time with my kids. I have two daughters. I had missed so much of their lives, and my own. About 2 years before this awakening I started a long journey of self-awareness and development. I finally got to a place where I had been happy with my life, I was losing weight, and I was a great mom. I was fulfilled and fully engaged in life… but through the sacrifice I made I had lost sight of those things that made me human. And in exchange for this sacrifice, this personal loss, I was asked for more hard work. No one even said thank you.

One night I was feeling romantic. I was dreaming of a life where I got to participate. I started to think about my job and what it was I loved about it. Why was I still there? What was I fighting for? The answer was easy. I loved my customers. Those people who came into the store just to see ME. I got to stand out on my sales floor and be a true piece of people’s daily life. I made people laugh and smile, and they came back for more. This is a truly fulfilling feeling to me.  And the fear of losing that feeling was very high. So I asked myself “self, as a consumer in this wide world of ours… where do you get treated in that same engaging way?”

The answer was quick and obvious. There is a small local quick service food chain in my area. There hadn’t been any other business where I had been fully and honestly engaged by employees as though I BELONGED there. So I went to the website. I did not grow up in this area and my experience with this chain had been very limited. But I liked how I was treated and so I sent in a resume. I was not even sure at that time if I was “looking” for a job. I just felt I needed to send something in. I never expected a call back…

But I got one. Someone called me to have a conversation. And that single conversation changed my life. I had worked for a company that was fighting for survival so long; I forgot was positivity felt like. I honestly didn’t believe some of the stuff I was hearing. She could tell. I was sent on a journey to discover the magic of this company. I was invited to a get to know the company event and encouraged to go to restaurants and talk to employees. And I did.

At the event I saw how these restaurants connect to the community. The integrity the company believes in and the way people are put first was, well frankly, shocking. After the meeting I walked out to my car alone. It was dark and a bit chilly. As I turned the corner to where my car was parked my eyes filled up with tears. I was sad. I was yearning for something I had not ever had an opportunity to know. That warm hug of a feeling that serve with love represents. I distinctly remember thinking if only my current company treated me like that. If they only treated anyone half as well as this place says they treat people, then I could stay. Now that I knew what I was missing there was no way I could live without it. As the tears dried I became determined to prove things couldn’t be that awesome. So I started visiting restaurants.

What I discovered was not shocking at all. I stopped into many locations and talked to people in all positions. I was warmly engaged every time. I got consistently positive information from everyone. These people ACTUALLY loved their job. Not just the job but the company, the environment, the team, the mission. I was in one location and I watched a girl make my blackberry lemonade. She put in the ice and the blackberry. Then she grabbed the lemonade jug out of the fridge and poured it into the cup. She took a step back, bent her head sideways and looked at the level of the juice. Then she topped it off and closed the jug. As she snapped on the lid she nodded to herself and handed it off. She didn’t know I was paying attention. She was acting in genuine kindness, creating the perfect blackberry lemonade, just the way she would have wanted it, for a total stranger (likely for the 30^th time that day).

Serve with love is thier mission statement... and it was real. The honesty was real. Not just in the hearts of current employees. I talked to people who had left the company. All of them said wonderful things. The community truly believes in the value and quality of this place. So I went to my interview.

That morning as I did my hair I was going over possible things they might ask. And again I cried, this time hard. I realized that with my skill set and experience I was going to get a job offer. And I further realized that if I got an offer I was going to have to take it. This meant leaving behind something I had fought and bled for. I stood up and looked in the mirror and realized that sometimes we have to make hard decisions, not everyone is able to do that. The few who have the courage to change have the ability to effect change in others. That’s what I want for myself. So I went to the interview. (The most fun interview in all of history) and eventually I did get an offer. Obviously I took it.

So in my last few weeks in that far away galaxy that was my former career, I tied up loose ends and tried my best to resolve my feelings of negativity that had crept up. I started my training and discovered something incredibly profound… everything I had been told by the home office, by the crew members, by the community, by my friends… was absolutely 100% true. It’s funny because I decided that my word for how things have been going was reinforcing. Because my choice had been validated. I was repeatedly warned that it was hard work. It’s true that there is work. Hard, fast work that is a complex mix of sticky, sweaty and greasy. But it is fun, fast, engaging and fulfilling. I watched a young man who works grill at my training restaurant in the middle of a crazy busy lunch rush drop eggs for a breakfast platter. He was sliding all over the place dropping buns, slinging sandwiches, helping me. Then it came time to build the platter. It’s like time slowed down to a crawl. He took his spatula and gingerly flipped the sides of the egg into a trifold. He quickly scoped the eggs onto the spatula with a single flip of his wrist and carried them over to the plate. He slowly and softly pushed the eggs off onto the plate and rearranged the muffin and meat. He then slapped it forward for counter to finish off. Time picked back up and he was off to the races again. But in that moment even though he had no idea he was being watched he honestly cared what that plate looked like. That level of true commitment comes from being treated well on a deep level.

What I see when I show up for work every day is happiness. It’s a family. They work together in such a smooth way communicating with ease and accomplishing an insane level of controlled chaos. It’s like watching a highly choreographed musical. The kind where no one noticed everyone spontaneously knows all the same words and dance moves. (Well I noticed) The team members talk about how working for this company has changed their lives. (Yes this happens daily) It is incredible the amount of tenure the employees of all levels have. Also many people who leave come back. It’s like once you have felt this warmth you can’t stay away.

And boy is there warmth. Guests come in daily and know their crew members names. And the employees have their guests meals entered into the computer before they are even all the way in the door. The sense of family is extended into all corners of the dining rooms and out through the drive thru window.  I have seen grill crew members recognize guests by name from nothing but their voice and their order.

Once upon a time I was lost like so many people in our world today. I wanted to feel valued, respected, and still get to engage people with a level of personal integrity. THAT is what it means to work where I work. THAT is what it means to serve with love.

So there you have it folks. My new job story…so far.

(This story took place in 2011)

The Notebook

No I am not referring to the Blockbuster hit, I am talking about a plain old spiral notebook. The kind that cost about 10 cents during a back to school sale.

3 years ago I was miserable. I had been miserable for a very long time. Every day was different. Sometimes I was able to put on a smile. I was still climbing the ladder in my old job. I had just had my second baby. I should have been very happy. My husband was a stay at home dad. We ate healthy home cooked meals every night... But there I was, wallowing in my own lonely anxious misery.

I was always the kind of person who didn't like to hear complaints, I wanted to hear solutions. I have always believed that if you don't like how things are going it is your duty to change something. In my own life I finally reached the point where it was time for change. I bought one of those cheap notebooks. It was yellow. I have always felt like yellow makes me happier. I opened it to the very first page and wrote "The Road To Happiness". Then I closed it and put it away.

A few days later I was sitting in a terrible state of anxiety and self loathing. I took out the notebook and sat in front of a mirror. I looked at myself long and hard. I started to write down words that came to mind. They were things I didn't like about myself. Things that were getting in the way of me being happy. I wanted so badly to be happy.

I cried very hard as I filled the pages. When I had calmed down I put the notebook away. About a week later I took it back out and read what I had wrote. It was incredible learning. The first page was mostly superficial things. Things like being fat, having glasses, freckles... physical imperfections that either me or society would see as flaws. Then as the pages went on they shifted to more in depth things. I wrote things like not kissing my husband, being rude, feeling angry, not coloring.

As weird and detached as this list seemed, I realized I had no friends, I hated where I was living, my marriage was failing, my job took up all of my time, I stopped doing the things I have always loved to do, my kids had no idea who I was, and I was too fat and tired and lazy to do anything about it. I gained perspective and I went to work on a plan to change. Step by step, point by point, I took a look at what was in my power to control. How much of this was my fault? Had I really been my own worst enemy?

My attitude changed in that moment. I stopped making excuses for my life. I either resolved to change or to own/accept that I had to work around the circumstances in my life. I was going to be happy, and now I had a map.

(This story took place around 2009)

Through Broken Glasses

I am very near sighted. I have to wear glasses. Last night I was getting a massage at a friends massage school. I had to take my glasses off. While my face was pressed into the silly face rest thingy I was looking at my arms. I noticed how big they are.

It is interesting to note that being near sighted my glasses actually make some things smaller when pulling them into focus. I was a little suprised at how large my arms seemed. As I relaxed and looked at my arms my mind wandered. I started to think about those people who are obsessed with thier weight or appearance. I am not one of those people. I am very over weight. I do need to lose alot of weight. Over a year ago I had lost 62 pounds. I felt great. I did it without even dieting. I was very proud.

But shortly after the weight loss life at my last job got very stressful. My boss changed and I left my emotions take over my life. I became so weak. I ate all of my feelings... in triplicate. I have not weighted myself  since my decent into the dark side began, but I know I have gained back a fair amount of what I had lost.

So there I was, fat arms, thinking about  myself. I am not happy that I am so fat. No one (no matter what they say) wants to be on the outside looking in. That being said I do not hate myself. I do not pity myself. I am not ashamed of being fat. I own that shit! Why wouldnt I? I made the choices that lead me here.

I have already made alot of the hard decisions that would be necessary to lose weight. I am happier. I was working a job that was brutal. Long hours, no days off all for no extra pay and no apreciation. I changed jobs to a company that really cares about its employees well being. I have built a network of friends that I care about. I have earned respect from my co-workers. I like where I live. I read, play and color. I do the things I am passioate about. I have a good support network in place. So...

I decided that I am going to start to make healthier choices again. I am going to try to lose some weight. Not because I have fat arms, but because I love my kids and want to have the energy to keep up with them. I want to be cute and be able to find love. I want, I want , I want... wow I am greedy haha.

So here is what I am going to do. I am going to stop drinking soda. I will drink alot of water. I will look for chances to exercise and play with my kids. I will take half the portion I feel I need, and go back for seconds if I need them. I will eat slow and enjoy my food. I will still enjoy desert, but I will onyl have a few bites instead of a few plates. I will do these things because I want to, not because society says I should. I will have smaller arms, because I will have earned them. I WILL.

(This story took place in 2012)

My Mentor

mentor n. A wise and trusted counselor or teacher

Whether we notice it or not almost everyone has a mentor. That person the helps shepard you through the learning that takes you to the next level in your life. This could be at work, in your education, or in your personal life. Sometimes it over laps.

I met my mentor at work, but the scope of change she influenced crossed over into many avenues of my life and still resonates strongly today. It was 6 years ago. I applied for a job. She was the store manager at the location I applied for. I got the job and Courtney became my boss.

My first impression of Courtney was strength. Like me she was a big and tall girl, strawberry blond curls and a commanding look of power. She had the strength of a lion. I was never sure if she intimidated people on purpose or if it was simply a by-product of the power she had. When Courtney entered a space she commanded the room.

When I started working for her I was barely figuring out what kind of adult I was going to be. I had always been an  over weight tom girl. I suffered from depression and low self esteem. I have always been smart and had wanted to move into management in the last company I had worked for, but the opportunity never came. Even though I was terrified on the inside I had decided I was going to take over my own destiny and make myself into a manager at this new job. How could they say no to someone who already knew how to do the job?

I worked very hard and learned as much as I could. Every 6 months I moved up a step. I went from customer service representative to shift leader to assistant manager. I was learning how to lead. I was learning how to sell. So much more was going on under the surface. I was not in the least bit aware of it at the time.

Seeing the way Courtney could command a room sent chills down my spine. How did she get to be so confident? I also started to notice the way her clothes fit her. She did not hide from the world inside her clothes like I did. I started to branch out from my usual t-shirt and jeans style. I bought "girl clothes". Little by little I started to change the way I wore my hair from being in tight pony tails or buns to down and long. I was not copying Courtney, but I was learning that it was okay to be attractive and be overweight.

I had been over weight my entire life. I wore clothes many sizes too big. I was literally hiding. I saw large women out there squeezing themselves into outfits meant for smaller people. They were seemingly oblivious to their actual size. I didn't want to be the kind of girl whose rolls hung to the floor. I didn't want my cottage cheese thighs peeking out, or my ass crack saying hello to the world. I didn't like being fat, but I took ownership of my size and have always refused to degrade myself by trying to squeeze into a smaller wardrobe. Also most fat people fashion is gross, or was anyway. Tapered jeans? really? Big giant tents of dresses? Like if you wanted to wear "normal" people clothes you HAD to suck it up, lay down to button your pants and hope to god you don't pop a button, or bust a seam in public.

But not Courtney. She owned her size and commanded it. I watched closely to the way she interacted with people. I listened to the words she chose to use. I started to see how much power came from your word choices. Communication is a choice. Every word has power. The way you string them together changes the way your words are percieved. Knowing which words to chose is power.

She passed on a keen business sense, how to interpret peoples behavior by instinct, how to drive performance. She showed me that having a high standard was the only way to succeed, but that obtaining that standard took compromise and hard work. I learned so many things that to this day I can not put into words. She made me the manager I am. She helped make me the woman I am. Together we coined the phrase "Feel free to be awesome", which represents me on a deep level.

As time passed I was promoted to be Courtney's peer. I have developed a friendship and a respect for her that will last a lifetime. I am who I am today because of the time I spent working for her, but more specifically, the time she spent developing me. She believed in me. She saw I had value and she leveraged it.

Empowering those around us can have a lasting effect. I Challenge everyone to reach out and be the example for someone in your life. Help someone grow into their own skin. It is a bond that can not be broken!

(This story took place in 2006)

Some other beginnings end...

I am on a Journey. Every journey has one thing in common. They have to start somewhere. When I think back to the parts of my journey that have already passed, I can not pin point the moment at which my life changed. All I know is at some point in the last several years SOMETHING happened that shifted the path I was on. I am not the same person I used to be as a result.

Since this is my first official posting I feel like I should introduce myself.

My name is Leah Naomi. I know that as my posts go on you will get a sense for me as a person. I hope you will get to know me well. For tonight, I want to tell you where I started.

I was born in a small town in the greater Los Angeles area. The town is called Tujunga. It's the sort of town that you have only heard of if you have been there. I am a product of a broken home. How broken is a matter of opinion, I did survive after all. When I was little I had this notion. It was a fleeting sort of feeling in the back of my mind, in the bottom of my heart, somewhere... I knew at some point I was going to be important. I had no clue what that was going to look like. Being so close to Hollywood, I entertained the idea of being an actor. Unfortunately I was too shy for that. I have always wanted to express myself. I am a story teller at heart. I thought maybe I would be a writer. (I guess this is my way of working that out) I didn't know what I was going to do. I even had these dream like fantasies of being a guardian of some mythological world filled with dragons, witches and faeries.

As I grew older I had trouble connecting with people. When I talk to people I knew when I was younger they all seem to have this notion of me being slightly popular and very funny and outgoing. It is clear people have felt connections to me over the years, but I assumed that it was all temporary or false. I isolated myself. I was lonely and depressed, as a lot of teenagers are.

Now I am a proud confident leader. I am a manager, a trainer, a coacher, and a mother. I have run businesses with success. I highly value trust, integrity and honor. I think manners are important, and I miss snail mail letters. I am in my late twenties and I can barely work my blu-tooth. I still dont have a high definition TV and I dearly miss my VCR. I am sentimental. I am self aware. I am passionate. These are but a few of the flavors that make up who I am.

In essence I am a unique mix of hopeless and musing meandering love. I was a workaholic, arrogant, asshole who hated the world and the people in it. I have changed in the core of who I am. The darkness is fading and I don't recognize myself. Now I am struggling to figure out what is next. How do I live my life from this new place? How do I hang on to the happiness I have found? Is it real? Is this a dream? Pinch me guys!

There is your first taste of me. I will soon start to share with you the specific stories that paint the picture of my life. Past, present, and dreams of the future, I do not plan to hold anything back. Be prepared for honesty, integrity, and truth in a raw complex sort of way. I am about to lay it all out here.

But for now... Good night!

(My posts will usually have a note like this on the bottom saying when they took place. This story took place 2012)