Ricca
Setting high goals in 2021 doesn’t mean missing the beauty that ‘now’ has to offer.
As the new year is on its way in, there are so many people who are focused on goal setting and how they are going to make 2021 so much better than 2020. The ‘New Year, New You’ hype sheds hope for the future and our algorithms are littered with messages on why this year you can be the best you you’ve ever been! Well, here’s the thing: you might be looking for success, and yes, it’s fantastic that you’re making plans for the future, but as you move into this new year, it’s important to acknowledge there are portions of old you that will forever shape the outcome of where you’re going and who you are. And although they may be painful, they are part of what makes you you, in all your unique beauty.
In 2017, I was taken under the wing of a mentor; a well-respected real estate investor in the industry known for her drive, success and her mantra, “you need to work harder on yourself than you do on your job.” I committed to immersing myself in her world as a way to wrap my head around her mindset, daily habits, and no-bull approach. One Sunday afternoon, during one of our weekly check-in calls, she gave me an assignment.
“Set your timer for 15 minutes and write all of your most vivid memories from childhood. You might be surprised what comes up. We are really good at forgetting the things that hurt us the most, but acknowledging those hurts and the gifts that those hurts gave us is fundamental in operating from a place of gratitude”.
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” I responded. “I’ve dealt with all of my childhood hurts and I’m good.”
“But Kelly, would you be willing to do it?”
****pause****
“Yes.”
Damn it. I had just spent my entire holiday weekend sitting at a computer putting a package together for a new investment and this crazy mentor of mine wanted me to write about my childhood!
Grumbling, and feeling a bit resentful, I poured myself a stiff drink, grabbed a pen, set my 15-minute timer and began to write:
I remember sitting under my grandma’s kitchen table playing with my toys as she cooked in the kitchen.
I remember the day my brother was born.
I remember going to my dad’s smoke-filled office and wondering why people sat in cubicles all day long and how something so stupid and meaningless could equate money.
The safest spot in my house was undoubtedly my closet where I would play with my barbies for hours
Going to the park with my friends
My tap dance recitals
Family dinners
My cat named Mitten
Ricca. (I can feel the lump in my throat).
Ricca was our live-in-nanny that my dad brought over from the Philippines when I was around 9 years old. It must have been at that point that, when my youngest brother was about 2, our nuclear family began to come apart. In an attempt to help relieve the stress on my parents’ marriage, Ricca moved in. She was beautiful. She didn’t miss a beat. She loved us kids before she even met us. In many ways, she probably saved us from so much hurt and gave us that missing piece of security.
I remember the way Ricca smelled.
Ricca brushing my hair
Ricca helping me for hours on my geography project…which I did on the Philippines, just for her
Ricca’s smile
Ricca’s laugh. Oh my gosh, that laugh. We would laugh while we were brushing our teeth and would have toothpaste everywhere. But Ricca didn’t care — even though she would ultimately be the one to clean up the toothpaste spatter.
Her hugs.
The special secrets I shared with Ricca that were never really secrets at all unless you were a kid, but she always kept them.
The way she looked at us kids, and you knew without a doubt that you were loved, no matter how much you messed up.
My parents’ divorce when I was 11
The day I came home from school and Ricca was gone. All of her stuff was gone. Her clothes, her belongings, everything. No explanation, no goodbye, my Ricca was gone.
Sleeping in Ricca’s bed for weeks as her sheets still smelled of her. It was the only thing that felt safe as I would listen to my parents screaming.
The day my parents finally separated and wanting nothing more than Ricca there to say it would all be okay
I miss Ricca
****timer.
I dropped my pen. My shirt and my hand were soaked in tears. I took a deep breath and drank what was left of my rye. I shut my journal, but the pain of losing Ricca was still real — I still missed her. All these years had gone by, and I had forgotten about her. Presumably because the pain of remembering was just too painful to bare.
That night after my son was in bed, I was working away at my laptop on an investment that I was putting together. As I worked, I had multiple tabs open; one of which was Facebook messenger. Sitting calmly in the crook of Jeff’s arm, working away, I saw a notification pop up with a messenger request. Without reading the name I read the message:
“Hi. Are you Kelly? Daughter of John?”
Wow, that’s a blast from the past. My Dad had been dead for well over a decade. Who could this be?
I accepted the request, looked at the name and burst into tears. It was Ricca.
All I could respond is, “Yes, Ricca, I am bawling.”
Immediately, she video messaged me where we both looked at each other and cried for over an hour. The first words out of her mouth were, “my baby girl, Kelly. I still carry your picture in my wallet everywhere I go.”
After over an hour of trying to talk (but mostly crying), we both said good night and agreed to continue to stay in contact. I crawled into bed, face swollen from crying more than I had in years. Inhaled, exhaled, more tears.
It has been almost 4 years since the day I was reconnected with Ricca.
I still don’t know why she was gone that day when I got home from school. Maybe one day I will find out.
I never got the investment done that I was working on that night. I chose to take the time to talk to Ricca, and I would never have chosen a different outcome.
This year, as you move into your 2021 goal-setting sessions, I would encourage you to really evaluate what it is that matters to you the most. For us real estate investors, our work consumes a great majority of life, but if you don’t take the time to enjoy the moments as they come, you’re going to miss a massive portion of the journey.
The truth of the matter is, you can have a 40-million-dollar portfolio and still be broke. It’s not about the size of the portfolio you have. It’s about what you gain in the moments along the way.