THE TRAUMA OF CHILDHOOD: Does It Still Hold You Back?

Me sat in the pub kitchen, looking delighted before a Halloween party.
I was shy then, believe it or not!!

It’s funny how the strangest things can take you straight back to your childhood.

This morning it was a random post I saw on Facebook, and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it since.

Just so you know what I’m talking about, here’s the post in question:

 

This post really resonated with me, because I was immediately transported back to the new September terms at junior school, and that dreaded task in our English session where we all had to write about what we did over the summer.

Now I loved English and I loved writing… but hated this particular task for a very good reason.

Although my mum and I weren’t entirely poverty-stricken and destitute (mostly!), I was still one of those poor last-year's-uniform kids who never got to go away on holiday.

Whilst the other kids in the class came back into our small well-to-do village school with their suntanned skin, souvenir neon wristbands and tales of waterparks, it was humiliating to have to admit that the furthest I went in my summer holiday was my Nanna’s pub in Leeds City Centre.

 

If you've ever visited this pub - I'm sorry!
But it wasn't that bad when we had it...

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for a sad violin ensemble or a woe-is-me pity party, nor I am saying that my childhood was horrendous.

Especially as I loved being at my Nanna’s pub: bottling up in the morning, playing in the cellar, helping her run the kitchen, and us going to Leeds Market for food supplies.

 

Awww, little tomboy me and my Nanna.
Incidentally, I set out those classy tablecloths and all the paraphernalia every day - obviously deserved that Happy Meal! 

But when you’re the only kid in the class who hasn’t been lavished with nice trips away in the summer, you feel very much like an outcast - and it was embarrassing that other people knew your family couldn’t afford things.
 

Even now, thirty years later, that humiliation still stings.

 


Looking the wrong way, wearing the wrong colour... I just wasn't the same as the others.
But why do we try so hard to fit in, when, each in our own way, we were born to stand out?



What’s the point of me telling you all this?

 

Reminiscence, pricked back to life from a random social media musing.

Part therapy, I suppose, helping me work through some old issues.

Acceptance.

 

If you can’t change things, you should change the way you think about them.

 

So let’s reframe things:

 - In those summers, I got to spend lots of my time with my dearly departed Nanna. 

 - I learnt some work skills, and an independent attitude that has benefitted me for the rest of my life.

- The pub showed me the perils for people who partake in too much alcoholism and fruit machine gambling. Which is why I rarely partake in either.

- My humiliation - and if I’m really honest, jealousy – these feelings made me develop an inherent desire to have and do nice things as well… “just like other people…”. So it’s no coincidence that one of my highest values is travelling – I've been to many countries worldwide as an adult, and so far this year, Venice, Amsterdam and very soon Iceland.

This burning desire ensures I force myself make money to enable me to do nice things… “just like other people”.

- On reflection, it is quite likely that nobody else except me was bothered about my issues – although at the time it felt like everybody knew all about my home life.

Now I’ve grown to realise that it does not matter what others think of you - it’s how you think of yourself that’s important.

And it was a revelation to discover true freedom: how much more enjoyable life is, when you truly do not give a shit what other people think of you.

 

 - My own experiences have made me extremely empathetic to those families who are struggling financially. There’s a very good reason why the majority of my tenants are exactly that sort of family unit – they are just like I used to be.

 And as I type this, although my face still burns with the shame of how poor we used to be, I am proof that it doesn’t mean your life is a write-off.

 

 

I am glad and grateful that property has enabled me to help these families.

 

And it is things like today’s post that evoke vivid memories, which remind me why I have chosen to help this particular tenant market – not the most glamorous, and certainly not the most profitable, but the most worthy?
 

In my eyes, definitely.

 

 

 

PS - ironically, my property career started in that pub, where I ‘refurbished’ one of the catacombs in the cellar and decked it out with a carpet and furniture. Only one tenant ever occupied it though; me – but the rent was so very cheap…

 

 

If you’d like to see further details of how my work helps local families, please visit my  website at www.kellyannmartin.co.uk  

...or follow my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/KellyannMartinProperty/


 

Good Riddance 2017 – Reflection, Correction and Downright Dissection

New Year’s Eve means the year is almost over, and to be blunt, I’ll be glad when it is.

I feel however hard I have tried these last twelve months, things have just kept continuously and relentlessly going wrong.

Sometimes it just isn’t your year.

I am generally a lucky person, and friends often describe me as one of the most positive people they know – but even I get downtrodden sometimes.

And to be fair, some good things have happened this year: a trip to Florence and Pisa, a mentorship in the Cayman Islands, running a 10k race whilst raising £250 for charity, and best of all, acquiring, refurbishing and renting out three more houses to local families.  

But far more bad things have happened, too many to list and pointless to dwell on - but this continuous chain of unpleasant events have caused a massive confidence crisis in my own mindset.

 

 

In short, I am not where I want to be.

I am disappointed in myself.

I have let myself down.

 

 

I very rarely fail at anything; the last major event being abysmally failing my basic Cycling Proficiency Test aged 10 (which gives you some indication of my gormless co-ordination skills!)

I feel like a failure, and it is an unpleasant feeling which I am not used to.

I have struggled for weeks to regain my natural motivation and mojo. My get-up-and-go has got up and went. And one doubt continuously creeps into my mind: what if I’m just not good enough for this?

Despite proving that I am, that I can do it - because I already have - that one niggling thought continues to cling, evade and disrupt, and it is a real struggle to shake off.

 

So let’s imagine the worst case scenario: I am a failure at this, and I must go back and get a ‘real job’. Getting up early and dragging my sorry ass out of bed in the dark. Doing the long, tedious driving commute, where the most exciting thing that prevents boredom is when an 80s classic comes on the radio. Arriving at the workplace, aka the ‘dark satanic mills’, trudging into my room. Desperately wishing it was hometime already, willing the time and drudgery to go quicker. Putting up with other people’s nonsense and stupid behaviour, smiling and being polite, because that’s what my contract insists I have to do. Attending irrelevant meetings, making noteless notes on pointless policies. Power trips from the senior management team, just because they can, not because they’re competent. And then commuting home, traipsing mindless work with me, which eats into my own free time. Tired all the time, miserable, fed up, bored, and doing what other people tell me.

Is that what I really want?

Is that not why I left in the first place?

From being a bizarre, weird little only child, I always knew I was different. Independent. Forthright. Freestyle.

I'm just not the norm.

I’m not sure why I spent so many years trying to fit in, when I was born to stand out.

And because of this, it pisses me right off when I don’t get to do whatever I want.

So a normal job was never going to be right for me, because quite simply, I don’t like being told what to do.

Young Kellyann dreams of the future...
 ...where she can grow up and work herself to death doing things she doesn't like for other people.
Yay!
Who wants to be normal anyway?

Is it thus going to be true that I’m not cut out for a ‘non-normal job’ as well?

Well that depends on me, I suppose.

You see, you and I, and everyone, are essentially infinite choice-makers in every moment of our existence.

And it is a stinging realisation that this year has been, in my eyes, unsuccessful - because of me.

Being self-employed means being self-starting, self-productive, self-directing and self-acting. There’s nobody coming to save me, help me, or to wipe my arse. It’s down to me, and me alone.

It is said that many of life’s failures are people who did not realise how close they were to success when they gave up.

 

If it was that easy, everyone would do it. But business owners are willing to sacrifice short term gratification, to experience pain and hardship, so that they can live their life long-term in ways other people can only watch and dream of.

So am I giving up and becoming “normal”?

Or am I drying my princess eyes, telling myself to toughen the fuck up and working harder to make next year far better?

What do you think?!

 

 

 

 

 

# DISCLAIMER WARNING - PROCEED WITH CAUTION #

 

Here's the barefaced truth I need, not something beautiful.

The following content is not suitable for pussies who can't handle the truth, or an abomination of F-bombs.

You have been warned!

 

 

Happy New Year everyone.

My very best wishes for 2018 x x x

 

 

Have a Word Wi' Yoursen!

 

My name is Kellyann Martin, and I have a problem. I don’t mean two-bottles-of-vodka-before-breakfast type problem, or ultra-extreme-Elvis obsession (debatable?!?) or owt like that - but an issue has arisen in my property journey which is seriously hindering my progress. For several months, every time the topic arises, I skirt around it, get really awkward and embarrassed, go bright red, and change the subject as quickly as possible. Some of you might have noticed this bizarre quirk in my otherwise cheery nature, so it is time to address the issue: I have a real problem talking to other people about money. More specifically, when people tell me they want to invest their money with me - I go into this farcical Benny-Hill type mode where I will do literally anything to distract them from having the awkward conversation about investing their money in my deals. Obviously as a property investor, this is not good, because money is required to buy houses. And unless I can raise finance to purchase houses, then my vision of 50 rental properties in Leeds won’t become reality, and my 50 families won’t be able to get their homes. :( What is even more infuriating is that because I already have a successful property portfolio, I know I can deliver and I know I don’t let people down - and many people have picked up on this and have openly offered me money to invest. But because of this ridiculous mindset block I have regarding money, I have not followed up these investment opportunities by actually having a conversation about financial investment. This is doing myself, my abilities, and my future 50 families a great disservice. :( Throstle Lane The next family house which is currently under refurbishment in preparation for rental. Watch for its progress on Facebook: From Scruffy Slum to Family Home! I am sure many of you also have an issue you would like to overcome – whether it be lack of confidence, procrastination, or knowledge worries. If this is the case, then I suggest you tell yourself the same as I did: Have a word wi’ yoursen! Now that I have actually acknowledged that there is an issue, I am tackling it head on: I am reframing my negative thoughts on money and investing. I have spoken to some of you very lovely, helpful people who have assisted with shifting my mindset. I am stepping out of my comfort zone to address the money beliefs that have resided with me since childhood. In short, I am having to reboot my brain and thought processes about investing. If I can have a word wi’ mysen about sorting out my deep-rooted issues, then I am very sure that it is possible for everyone to do the same with their issues. Pictured: Kellyann Martin - only child, from single parent family, living in rented house on one of only three council streets in affluent village of richer families. Very skint, very poor, often had to do without nice things, but still very cheery. Also pictured: Kellyann Martin BA (Hons), PGCE, GCGI - successful property investor and landlord, with rental portfolio in Leeds providing good quality accommodation for local families. Here’s my top tips for “Having a word wi’ yoursen”, which I hope will help. 1. Acknowledge the issue. If you dance around it for months like I did, bizarrely it doesn’t go away! 2. Work out why your self-limiting beliefs exist. What has caused them? Why do you think that? Write these beliefs down and address them. 3. Reframe your thoughts around negative beliefs. Think in a different perspective about them. For instance, instead of thinking “I am borrowing money off people” the new way to think is “I am giving people a chance to get involved in a great investment opportunity” 4. Research and read up on the topic that is causing distress. It turns out that I am worried about money because of the following: - Before now, I have never in my life had to borrow money - I would hate to get my figures wrong - I am terrified of letting people down – because I never let people down. So now I am undergoing a period of learning all about finance and investment so that the topic feels less unknown and distressing. 5. As I tell my cadets: Prior preparation prevents (piss!) poor performance. Treble check the issues you are worried about before committing to action; in my case, due diligence with the figures. 6. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Relax: 99% of the things you worry about will never happen. But they stop 99% of people from taking action.   The worst that will happen in my case is that people will say no to my deal proposals. But that’s ok. I can get over that. Santa said ‘no’ to an A La Carte Kitchen toy several Christmases in the 1980s (not that I’m bitter or owt!) Why, Santa, why?!! I was always a good girl!! But I know why: it was because my mum couldn't afford it. You don't always get everything you wish for in life. But you always get what you work for. So I'm working hard to make sure my mum is looked after, just like she always looked after me, even when we were poor. And I'm a terrible cook anyway! So although it won’t happen overnight, it is therapeutic to work your way through resolving an issue. This has been difficult for me, and I don’t mind admitting that at times there has been “tears”. Well, I think that’s what they’re called, in Yorkshire we refer to this wet, face-leaking process as “I’ve got someat in me eye!” One of the ways I found helpful to address my issue: a mind map setting out what was troubling me. However, through tears and awkwardness, I must persevere and overcome this self-sabotaging block. I have to. I’m not letting my fifty families down. One of my ideal future families, x 50. Except from Leeds, not Springfield. And actual real people, not just cartoons! Thanks for reading! Hope you are well and working hard towards success. Best wishes, and take care, Kellyann x x x

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