Broken Barbies

Photo credits to Varage sale

If you are trying to decide if this is a blog for you, I’ll tell you that it is not filled with romantic flights around the world. No trips to paris, or snorkeling in the Cayman Islands.

I would have to have a passport for that. Right now I am still paying on back child support and that fact disqualifies me for a passport until that balance falls below $2000.00. Close but still a few cents away.

The consequences from emotional wreckage linger years later, and I didn’t find that out until I was planning a romantic honeymoon with my now husband.

Sorry honey we can’t leave the country.

Death, SIDS, divorce, alcoholism, addiction, mental health, jail, abuse, relationships, God, sobriety, court rooms, recovery, overcoming, friendship, forgiveness, love, laughter and peace.

Those are some topics I plan to share and talk about in my blog, and within a book or two.


Within all the words I put onto these pages, I hope you find a message, or something resonates within you that you can apply to your life.

Chances are you are reading this because you’ve googled story’s about recovery, or you asked for reference to a good self help book with similarities to you or someone you love.

I know this much, everyone likes a good come back story; but for that to exist, and for you to appreciate it, you have to know the guts of it all.

No matter how deep you’re in it, you deserve peace of mind.

This is for those of you that can’t see your way out and are afraid of telling your truth. Don’t get me wrong it’s okay not to; but after all these years I would die in vain if I kept my faith and my story to myself.

Crystal clear and sparkling like a diamond on the outside; but full of bitterness, rage and sorrow in my soul.

This is written to offer you hope. Hope that if you are having or have had some difficulties throughout your life then just maybe you will be enlightened and find a bit of peace by something I have chosen to share from my personal journey.

It’s a fact that we all experience some sort of turbulence and it can feel like it’s never going to quit bouncing us around.

We get lost, and feel alone. We see no end in sight. Pain that aches as the sun rises and sets.

I plan to give the not so pretty details in my book. I’ll explain one of my biggest tragedies because I want you to understand I know what it’s like to live inside of a tragic experience.

Reliving it and seeing it every time you close your eyes.

PTSD diagnosis mixed with an ‘ism’ or even two.

Often both go hand in hand.

It’s a mental battlefield and one we tend to minimize.

For myself anyhow, I generally saw your tragedy as worse than mine no matter what it was so that no eyes were able to stay on my pain and I didn’t have to feel me at all.

It may have been gorier or graphic, on a 1 to 10 scale; but it was a tragedy none the less. I would tell you about mine, and that it happened; but I’d also tell you I had overcame it. Then we wouldn’t have to talk about it anymore. I could stuff it back down in its hell hole. I was a great stuffer. I would beat myself up so bad if I caught myself crying over it years later. Besides you don’t know how to ask me questions about it. I get it.

I read something once recently about Toxic Positive. That resonates with me. I’m so guilty of being toxic positive. However; it happens. Somedays it has to. I’ll explain more about that in another post or you can google it now. It’s a tricky one. One I truly believe can keep you teetering and white knuckling your way through life.

I found myself with no positivity. No light. No Faith. A darkness that led me to a new teacher.

I found her. A counselor who not only listened to me; but held my hand as our sessions ran longer than scheduled. I said to her words I thought all those years but that I would never let come out of my mouth. She took me inside and helped me unload the world from my shoulders.

You will read about it one day in a book I am writing.

My Truth.

She Died and Went to Heaven. I Lived and Went to Hell. By Lynn Rilean Smith.

I had to say the words out loud to my therapist. 29 years later. She had a way to get those words from my mind, body and soul, to a very trembling voice.

I had to say them, in order to have a breakthrough, and reach a better understanding that nothing would make that experience go away, and that it was never going to make sense. Grasping that was hard.

I had to gently lay it to rest to be able to continue to build a more peaceful me ( mother me, wife me, friend and sister me ); but first I had to look at it in a way that I was always trying to bury.

That counselor took my entire life, in less than a year, and proved to me; when the student is ready the teacher will show up. That saying use to annoy me. Now I’m stuck to it like glue.

She was there to show me I could learn to face life without losing myself in the shuffling replay.

I had to do the things she suggested in order to make progress though, and that felt, simply put, yukky.

I’m telling you my story in hopes you can one day share yours. I hope you will open yourself to trust in someone again and even more so trust in you again and possibly therapy.

The Zac Williams song sings loudly in my head as I type this. Fear is a liar.

I hope you can feel some sort of connection to someone else when your world feels empty, and a consequence catches up to you.

I believe by sharing our stories we are offering support for others that may be struggling, and in need of some understanding and love.

Not coming to judge, criticize or kick us when we feel down.

This is me giving you a hug, offering you encouragement and telling you that you are not alone.

It’s okay to break, and still be strong, beautiful and brave.

So much truth in that.

Post it note 📝 ~ A box of beaten down, battered and broken barbie dolls are being rebuilt, cleaned up and made wiser.

There you have it folks.

That is how you make a militia.

Photo credits to Mattel