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As a professional speaker, Writing Diva Deb is an enthusiastic, engaging catalyst for inspiring positive changes that make success fun and easy for entrepreneurs and sales professionals. 

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Conversations with Mom

My Conversations with Mom Have Helped me Through Some Tough Times

September 11, 2013, was one of the most devastating nights of my life. If it weren’t for my conversation with mom, I wouldn’t have survived it.

I couldn’t believe it when I accidentally discovered Kristin’s Facebook business page with all my clients plastered all over it. I was in shock. I couldn’t contain the tidal wave of emotions that were overwhelming me. It felt like a tsunami had just wiped me out. She’d been my most trusted independent contractor. She had even signed a Non-Compete Agreement.

I had to call Mom, but it was past her bedtime. She’s usually brain dead by 8 pm. It was after nine. I called her anyway, hoping she would answer. “Mom, I know it’s late and past your bedtime, but can you talk? It’s important and I need your help.” I burst into tears.

Concerned, she consoled me. “Sure honey, I’m awake. I drank two frappucinos today, so I can’t get to sleep and will probably be up for hours. What’s wrong honey? I’m here for you.”

I told Mom what had happened and asked her, “Why would she do this to me, Mom? I was good to her. I don’t understand, why.”

Mom said. “I don’t know why honey, but you don’t deserve this.”

As I vented my heartbreak and confusion to Mom, I couldn’t get my mind around what I’d discovered. Mom hung in there with me for several hours, as I cried and talked and cried and talked until I finally ran out of energy and words. I was devastated, drained, and depleted. My face was swollen with grief. My nose was raw and my eyes were bleeding from the flood of pain that had passed through them that night.

As the days, weeks and months passed, my conversations with mom were my constant companions as I marched through the dark night of the soul and tried to make sense of the betrayal. Mom helped me get through it. I don’t know if I would have survived without her support and all my conversations with Mom. They helped me recover so I could start over and reinvent myself at 51.

I was proud of what I’d created out of nothing with that business. I worked hard for many years to grow it into a successful six-figure income. I shared my success generously with family and friends.

Kristin approached me through a mutual acquaintance. “I’m a housewife and mother with 5 dogs of my own. I love dogs and would like to make a little extra money working for you. I’m good with dogs and people.” She bragged a lot.

Little did I know, two years later she would steal my business all out from under me. It didn’t make sense. She has a husband who earns over $100,000 a year and a father and step-father who are both millionaires. Why would she steal a business from a single middle-aged woman who is all alone in the world?

I had no one else supporting me, no husband or kids. I had worked hard to start up and grow that business. Why would someone who already had so much steal something that was everything to me? It was all I had. I racked my brain trying to figure out why she betrayed me so deceptively and with such a mean spirited sense of entitlement? She didn’t even need the money. But, I did.

I’d even offered to sell the business to Kristin before anyone else even knew I was going to sell it. No wonder she didn’t want to buy it, she was already stealing it out from under me and had been for almost a year and a half. How did I not see it? How nieve I was. How stupid. After I sold my house, I even rented a home from her and paid her mortgage while she stole my business out from under me. She was like a Trojan horse that had snuck in to attack me at my most vulnerable time, while I was preparing to sell the business. Wow! How does she live with herself?

After I sold my house, I even rented a home from her and paid her mortgage while she stole my business out from under me. She was like a Trojan horse that had snuck in to attack me at my most vulnerable time while I was preparing to sell the business. How does someone like that live with themselves?

She had calculated, planned and stolen all that I had created from nothing, but why? I couldn’t wrap my mind around that. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t understand. What did I do to her that warranted such a cruel betrayal?

Irreparable damage had been done to the value of my business. I was forced to act quickly or I was going to lose everything. I had to slash the sales price in half in order to sell it. It sold within a few months.

As time passed, the wounds became scars and the shock and bitterness softened into wisdom. I learned to discriminate between those who are worthy of my trust and those who aren’t.

I realize now that Kristin was a catalyst who forced me out of a life I’d become comfortable and complacent in. Who knows? If it weren’t for her, I may not have had the courage, born out of necessity, to pursue my dream of writing professionally.

As a result of my cherished and ongoing conversations with Mom, a light has brightened my days, as a new dawn of possibility for me and my new life has peaked over the horizon.

Some of my best ideas for writing have been born out of my conversations with Mom. When I share my most vulnerable thoughts and feelings, during times of doubt or disappointment, triumphs and hope, Mom often points out the treasures inside me with this sweet, supportive suggestion, “Deb, you could write about that. There are a lot of people out there who could relate to that. You should write about it.” So here I am writing about it. In fact, the idea for my first book that I’ve started writing is a result of a conversation with Mom.

It’s been a long and difficult transition in my life, but because of my conversations with Mom, I’ve survived and even thrived through one of the darkest periods of my life.

Mom was 75 years old when I wrote this. I hope she lives until she is at least 100. I cherish my precious conversations with Mom and count on them to get me through the rough spots in life.

Deborah Brightstar ©2015

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