Sex, Drugs, Rap & Rock-n-Roll

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Let’s talk about sex for a second.

Sex? What sex? No. I did not lose my virginity last night.
No. I’m not lying to you. No. I promise. Mom, seriously, stop. I was at her house. No. Mom I swear I did not have sex, and I’m still a virgin.

~ The Spring of 89 ~
The intersection
of
But Did You Die & Dysfunction Junction.

I may not have been at her house that night but that year we definitely were inseparable. How we didn’t end up freezer meat I will never know. By the grace of God, for a couple girls that never met a stranger, is my best guess; Because we definitely were not making safe or smart choices. We had way too much in common to not take risks.

Mom had every right to ask questions. She was right. I was 14. Need I say more?

No matter what life did or didn’t do. I saw and felt moments where our parent’s loved us more than they loved themself. To a fault. In fact, I’m pretty sure ghost’s haunt my mom and keep her paralyzed today. They definitely did my dad.
I only say that because I’m a lot like my mother and my father. I made many of her and his same mistakes. No offense Mom, Dad.
I’m older now.
I get it.

Again, Lynn Rilean are you lying?
Mom, “NO.”
I always knew it was getting messy if the middle name came out.

Do I think she believed me? No. Do I think she could have done thing’s differently in order for me to have been honest?
Not really. No.

Do I think she really genuinely cared? Yeah I do. Was I going to make it easy on her either way? No. Not at all.

Who wants to look mom in the eye and tell her they had sex. It’s so personal.
In fact, if I tell her, she is going to tell him ( The Step Down ) and he will take one look at me and tell me I’m just a worthless whore.
So.
“No,” Mother I did NOT lose my virginity at a party last night.

Now, do I think from the beginning of childhood, thing’s could have went a little different?
Maybe losing my virginity to a drunk guy with a drunk 14 year old me would not have been so cool?

I don’t know.
He said he loved me. At the time that felt better than anything else. I don’t even remember the sex.

But yes, could life have gone a little differently, I think that’s a possibility.

Do I think Church would have made it better?
Not the church we went to. That’s for damn sure. Do I think all church is bad? No. Did I then? Absolutely, eventually grew to hate the two we bounced back and forth from.
I got to see inside TOO much.

Church has came so far today and I can’t help feel the new churches we have available now were built to bring in the crippled spirits from some of those poisonous snakes.

Aside from a Godly or not so Godly~

Do I think a consistent childhood with two loving, nurturing, attentive, thriving parents would have made a difference?

Good question.

Honestly I don’t know what defines that above which makes a childhood picture perfect.

As parents, I think a lot of us just give it our best shot and hope it isn’t over or under done.

Although unfortunately ~ Skeletons are everywhere.

I had too many friends who dressed to the hilt, whose parents wanted to know every move they made, who hugged them goodbye every time they walked out the door, who prayed together daily or not and who promised the kids the moon.

BUT.

Those same friends and relatives also carried the weight of many slaps to the face. Many bruises under clothing bought specifically to cover them up. Many lies. Many suicidal thoughts. Many plots of revenge at way too young of an age. Many moments filled with prayers that felt pointless once they returned home, yet again, to take more from the picture perfect life the world thought they lived in.
Talk about skeletons in a closet.
If you have none consider yourself, um, blessed and a rare breed?

Okay. The end.

That sums up 9th grade right?

Wrong.


Not even close.

In fact sex didn’t happen until after the worst part of being a teenager that year.

What I would give today for sex to have been the sucky part.

I look back and I see sex was indeed the solution to a problem. The ease to a pain. The piece to a missing part. The glue for a broken heart. The tissue for tears. The band-aid for the blister on your heel. The cure to the colic. The waking from a dream verses a nightmare.

December.
Christmas.
Best Holiday in years.
Dad is coming.
No matter what resentment we may have had towards our parents, as adults we know they loved us. Maybe confused about it as kids but loved us nonetheless. Different memories we each have.

~When the last picture really is the last picture~
We may not have got to say I love you.
But he knew.
He knew that with all his heart.

I think my message will always be not to take advantage of the words I love you.

Shopping. Holidays. Decorating trees.
Pretty sure the only smell that lingered was the smell of beans and cornbread. Maybe because we didn’t have much money or simply because, no offense, that’s what seemed to be the pot roast of Oklahoma.

Today, I order bean-less every thing and on purpose. Not because they can’t be made to taste good; Because, while we gagged, they giggled.

Don’t get me wrong, they made different stuff sometimes, but NOTHING was ever going to be as good as a pot roast cooking in the oven back home in Gramma Greats kitchen.

Before you hit me with the “At least you had food,” believe me when I say, I can eat commodity cheese with the best of them.

But BROWN BEANS sucked.

Don’t recall much of December 1988; Other than Dad was coming to see us.

Talking with my siblings, none of us remember that entire visit.

But.

Greyhound bus station, yet again, here we come.

Dad will be stepping off the bus this time.
He loves us. He missed us. He is sober and finally, he is here.

Douglas Lee Nill

One thing that will always be the same is that we all share a loss.

The loss of our Dad.

All 3 of us kids have different memories of that December. Respectively so. We each live today with our own truths.
Our own ideas, dreams, goals and lifestyles.

That December took something away from us.

You can’t put death in a box with a bow and call it a gift. Not even at Christmas time.

My sister and I had just walked inside from a walk we took; Shopping for a few gifts from McCory’s, which was basically todays Dollar General. Odd the things I remember. Cheap, chocolate covered cherries and cream drops. ( Gross ) but someone was getting them as a gift.

While people everywhere around us were gathering, singing, Rock Around the Christmas Tree, drinking hot cocoa and praising the Lord; We were gathered too, but in my bedroom to have a talk.

Mom was in her pink fuzzy bathrobe and it was very obvious she was crying. Why would she be crying on Christmas Eve?

Dad had already came and gone. Sort of. That will all be better explained in the book.

He had places to go and other people to see. He would be back though. That was a promise.

In the spring he planned to pick us up and take us north to visit other members of our family.

I did love his dreams.


We were all going to fly. That thought scared me, but I also couldn’t wait. I had missed him so much.


I didn’t have my sisters side of the story then; Even though she was back with my brother and I.

I can’t tell her version as my own because I wasn’t there with her for part of it. She got to see a side of Dad that my brother and I did not.

What I will tell you now is that he came to Oklahoma to see us kids, after having been to rehab. He had been advised to have a little more sober time before heading our way, but he wanted to see his kids. Who wouldn’t?

He came, we all visited, it was every emotion in the book for me, and everyone else there and for those he had left in Spokane, and later evidenced those emotions were even harder for him.

I knew he was not staying for good, but he changed his return ticket to leave even sooner. I only understand why now, having been in similar shoes. It made NO sense at the time though.

I at least got a halfway goodbye hug. Halfway, because when you are angry at someone you leave a little of the love out. I do regret that. That’s why I say never take advantage of an opportunity to say I love you.


He had every intention of leaving and not saying Goodbye.

I only know this was the plan, because I walked in to step grandma’s house and saw Dad sitting hunched over his green duffle bag with his stocking cap on, as if he was ready to go somewhere. Surprised and even sadder that I just walked in.

Goodbyes hurt.

Needless to say, he did what he did, and ventured off alone in a new town instead of getting on the bus. Only later to get on a bus AGAIN, but on a different date and under different circumstances. ( all of those bits and pieces will be in the book )

This blog entry isn’t really about sex as much as it is about what I, personally tried to use to fill a void.


A very big, confusing, ugly void.

I was 14 for goodness sake.

How could there have been anything good about sex?

The 3 D’s.

Death. Divorce. Date Rape.

You never really see how far you have came until you look back for revision.

Those ghosts do not haunt me anymore but I am still getting use to not walking on the eggshells they left behind.

I’d like to say the ghosts quit chasing me.
Not the case though.
It was more like a mental exorcism.

I still occasionally check under the bed; Nothing but dust lives there now.

Ghosts? What ghosts?

Now I just get to write about them.

I get to genuinely smile.
I get to be grateful.
I get to feel purpose.
I get to do things because I want to not because I have to.
I get to be present, mind, body and soul with my friends and loved ones.

I care more about having peace then I do about being right. When I let you have the debate with an okay, it is not sarcasm. It is genuinely not worth my serenity. I like to be right with the rest of you. Just not near as often. It matters less then ever before.

Writing to me is what rain is to the flowers.
Necessary.
I put a lot of hours and research into some of it and a lot of it, I know by heart.

~ Beauty in your own backyard ~
Patio box flower 2020

I hope by what I choose to share that someone else may feel hope when life feels hopeless.

So that someone suffering from extreme anxiety can trust that the dark side isn’t the most logical choice or if they’re there already, that they know they are not alone.

I do not know everything about grief, pain, loss, alcoholism, addiction, or life. I never will.

What I do know is that no amount of Sex, Drugs, Booze, Bulimia, Rap music, Rock-n-Roll or The Old Rugged Cross can ever go as deep as the hole in a soul of a daddy’s girl, whose dad is gone forever.

It’s a hole that has taken many years to dig out of.

You do not have to be 6 feet under to feel buried alive. You just have to remember you have a shovel in your hand and a few good people to remind you it’s there~ Lynn R. Smith

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Men Down

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

We categorize life events, and experiences. Trying to organize them into tiny boxes that are busting at the seams. For me I just need bigger boxes.

Our Seagulls were Sailor’s
Dedicated to Doug and Sput Nill
Bad Company Seagull extended album – YouTube

Life and Death.

We know the only guarantees we have are that we will live and ultimately die.

We know sometimes good people leave way to soon.

Not so good people get free passes all the time.

That’s what it feels like anyhow.

When we lose a loved one, our heart’s want more. Why them? Why now? Often we know the answer. Our minds just have to go through the grieving process.

This writing piece is close to my heart and was prompted by yet again, a photo.

Douglas Lee Nill and Darwin Sputnik Nill
~Two of Life’s Sailors~

I titled this “Men Down” because they did serve our country. There are photos of them during their time serving. Proud and honorable.

I am writing this today in hopes someone will read it and relate. Feel it, and forgive. Hear it, and maybe heal. Maybe this is just for me? I don’t know. I feel them here as I write. They tell me to remember that no one is perfect, and that no one gets out of here alive. To live while I still can. To write what I know and feel in my soul.

The two men that I have pictured above were two of the good guys caught in a storm. My dad and my Uncle Sput. If they were still here I’m sure they could still recite the Navy’s Code of Conduct. Not to forget the 11 Sentries. ( See at the end )

These two sailors of the United States Navy stood in line with other new recruits to get that first military haircut, receive the inoculations, and stand for clothing check.

Douglas Lee Nill in line for his Military hair cut.
1972 Company 347 Recruit Training Command San Diego, Ca.

Sail away, sail away, sail away.

They trained for storms. They trained for rough waters. They knew at any moment thing’s may become unpredictable.

I can’t speak of the exact experiences they had while serving. All I know is the honor for any of us who love them to know they stood up and made a decision to enlist.

What happened out there? What seas did they sail? How crowded were the berthing quarters? How long will it be before they have mail call? Packages and letters from loved ones making the seas bearable.

These two served the minimum, with no desire to make a life out of the Navy. They went, they made it back home.

I have to wonder who they were before and who they became during that time. Who went out to sea and who returned?

Douglas Lee Nill
His photo is marked with an x.
DIECK’S FREAKS
347 GOING HOME

I have read and watched movies. I have listened to my elders share stories of time served. I have heard many different experiences, from proud, to permanently scarred. Some new strengths as well as some brokenness. Many of tears have been shed as I feel everything so deeply.

I was never brave enough to stand and just let someone yell at me without breaking down into tears. The men and women of and in the military truly are the muscle, the back bone, the brave and the strength of America. Thank you all for your service.

I chose these two sailors as my main focus because they come from the same bones that built me and my siblings. They were two brave men. I remind myself that when I feel fragile or weak.

I think they got off of the ship with a different vision, and that all they could see was the bottom of the deep blue sea. Let’s face it. I’ve never had what it takes to endure that of what a sailor or soldier endures. Have you?

These guy’s made it home, had wives and made babies. The all American dream. Right?

Newspaper clipping
The announcement of my Mom and Dad’s wedding.

The storms they trained for at sea, unfortunately not preparing them for the storms they would face years later.

Divorce, death, drunk, and even fought with a war on Drugs.

No branch of the military prepared you for those storms you may face later. We have hopefully came a long way since then.

What I see now as I take a look back; Both of these men were someone’s son, brother, father, grandson, cousin and friend. They were heroes to those who loved them.

Delores Rilean Johnson Nill
They were her son’s.

I know these 4 sailors personally. No matter the roads they took that were all quite different, they were once braver than I’ve ever been.

Four Brothers
From left to right
Sput, Doug, Dwayne and Kevin Nill
All Served in The United States Navy
RIP Doug and Sput.
Gone but NEVER FORGOTTEN.

You never know the value of a moment until that moment is all you have.

For Douglas Lee Nill Written by Brother Dwayne Nill 12/28/88

You can take the Nill away from Spokane, but you can’t take Spokane away from the Nill.

Have a blessed weekend.

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

MEN DOWN

I’ve also attached this link to a short documentary. I was surprised how absolutely little I knew about the Navy.

https://www.thedrive.com/the-war-zone/30888/awesome-mini-documentary-shows-what-a-sailors-life-is-like-aboard-a-u-s-navy-destroyer

Thank you to The Drive and Author Tyler Rogoway for the hard work you put into the above share.

~ 11 General Orders to Sentry

Description

Orders to Sentry is the official title of a set of rules governing sentry duty in the United States Armed Forces.

1. To take charge of this post and all government property in view.

2. To walk my post in a military manner, keeping always on the alert, and observing everything that takes place within sight or hearing.

3. To report all violations of orders I am instructed to enforce.

4. To repeat all calls from posts more distant from the guard house than my own.

5. To quit my post only when properly relieved.

6. To receive, obey, and pass on to the sentry who relieves me all orders from the Commanding Officer, Command Duty Officer, Officer of the Deck, and Officers and Petty Officers of the Watch only.

7. To talk to no one except in the line of duty.

8. To give the alarm in case of fire or disorder.

9. To call the Officer of the Deck in any case not covered by instructions.

10. To salute all officers and colors and standards not cased.

11. To be especially watchful at night and during the time for challenging, to challenge all persons on or near my post, and to allow no one to pass without proper authority.

Thank you Jennie Nill Tate and Patty Nill. This entry would not have been possible without your help.

9/11/01 ~ Deserves Better than Today.

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

***Update*** True Stories and Children’s books for the win. I’m proud of the respect this post was given but I most definitely did not enjoy writing it as much as the other’s. Note to self. If it don’t feel good, don’t do it.

9/11/01

We came together as one.
No matter what you believe.
That day we were United.

We lost our loved ones to terrorism.

There was barely a word mentioned of that today, on any channel or radio station.
Alexa didn’t even interrupt like she did when we were saying HIS NAME. GF. No disrespect.

But you will likely find that offensive for whatever reason because that’s who people are becoming.

Why?

What made that day on 9/11 so different then our world here now?

I’ll tell you.

We were NOT trying to kill each other.

We were all in agreement then, and it was easy to be that way.

Not one of us stood tall for terrorism or hate crimes against our country.

The AMERICA we are now, is dividing and destroying itself.

How many commercials interrupted our football games about the lives of those who died in 9/11?

How many commercials did we watch telling us about the children that survived the molesting from trusted priest’s mattered?
What about that justice? Did it just not really MATTER that much?

What about a commercial for Gabriel Hernandez?
Remember him? Do you even know who that is?

Why aren’t the football players helmets wearing that young boys initials? GH
He never caused anyone any harm.
Never made it to an age to even go to jail or make a mistake, let alone rape someone.

“Lynn, just turn the other cheek,” they say.

My reply back.

Lynn says, “she has a cheek that you can kiss.”

How about stop destroying our homes and killing our own people?

There is division and war now.

Because ONE man met a bad cop, which by the way, if you follow, you know his own family does not agree with the mass destruction in the world today caused by that horrific day.

You are going about change the wrong way.

Take off your glasses and look around.

A parent who gives children free reign to run a muck and have no guidance or discipline is not parenting to protect the children.

Some people saying the President should step down because everything is his fault.

What kind of flying monkey shit is that?

Political puke post~

A ~The President looks after all of us like a parent.

B ~ I’m actually stepping out of my comfort zone here and getting political, (breaking my own rule ) , but the chiefs game last night is the straw that broke the camels back for me.
I’m voting for Trump because I’m scared to death for our future if I don’t. Sorry NOT SORRY.

Great game for the very few minutes I saw of it, because then I chose to sleep and I plan to sleep through the rest of this football season.

Fans booing during unity of teams.

Sickening.

Those fans are not helping with team spirit at all, and the commercials are not helping either.

Your messages are poisoning ALL children now, not just a couple children with your stray bullets.

It’s just a gross joke now.


No one knows what is what anymore, and football looks like puppets on a broken string with a fat bank account.

All of that in the A and B above ~ I feel from head to toe.

Now, for C.

I feel C in every breath I take.

C ~ There are plenty of people with a ton of money bitching about BLM etc. ,All lives Matter, and yada yada.

Taking Nancy Green and her legacy and making her a joke. Shame on you.

Fighting for this and that change.


Loaded fat bank accounts, which by the way that only color is green. In case you’ve missed that.
So why are people still looting to feed their children?

Put your money where your mouth is.

All of it, if it helps feed starving children?

You talk big until you have to actually face giving everything you have away to help make a real difference.

Or buy them some Nikes?
Adidas or whatever other name brand floats your fancy.

Money talks to football talent but not to the kid asleep under the bench whose Dad dumped him there.

I’m saddened by the language money talks.

I’m saddened by the confusion in children who don’t understand why the men that they see as super hero’s to them don’t have masks on yet we are all required to.

I’m saddened that millionaires and billionaires talk a lot of shit but that mental health systems run short of funding.
I’m saddened gang violence is still killing children and that more protection isn’t available for victims of domestic and sexual abuse.

I’m saddened that the junkie on the corner is looked upon as a shame, and not a heartbeat.

I’m saddened that my relatives fought in the military, and all they fought for is being ripped away from purple hearts.

I’m saddened that such a beautiful place to live has become such a mass fail.

I’m saddened all Harriet Tubman fought for is not worth anything she fought for.

I’m saddened you have tried to steal the love, respect and admiration of all those who fought for us ALL to be here today.

Sure you can take that statue but your behavior will always disgust me thinking for any second that we had not came far enough to be better people then this.

Too damn far.

I get it.
Everyone wants rights and equality.

But if we keep killing each other there will not be anything left to make right or equal.

After this entry ~ I am not full of rainbows and butterflies or glittery vomit.

I’m sick from what I saw on television last night. Not because no ones life matters; Because it is obvious that money matters most.

I’m just glad in my heart that there is a Heaven, and that I’m doing this thing called life better; Because I will be much happier in Heaven then I’ll ever be if Joe Biden becomes President.

You can have whatever you want, and whoever and whatever lifes you want to make matter.

At this point all I know in my heart of hearts is that HEAVEN MATTERS MOST.

PS ~

If Joe Biden tried to smell my hair now especially that I’m an adult, I would most definitely kick him in his nuts.

Update ~ This entry was a stat test.

I would never share my political points of view. I truthfully love people too much and I know it is a major divider of family and friends. I also still do not know enough about either side to give a thorough talk of the talks with anyone. I do have my opinions etc, but who doesn’t. I listen and nod A LOT. I filter, I process and I do the research which allows me to come up with my own view. This post was created to see what topics get more views. I’m honestly quite proud to say I’ll never be writing for politics. It doesn’t get as much notice as a true story. I do feel sad about some of this blog entry, don’t get me wrong. I can’t help it. I am a “ CARING”. person. That’s what I care to remember everyday. We can be respectfully be on an opposite team and still head home together at the end of the day.

True Stories and Children’s books here I come.

GO HOME NOW

GO HOME NOW

©️ 2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Lay me
down
I’ll
dream
in
purple

Of
visions
grey
&
teal

Rid me
of the
white
&
black

allow me
now
to
feel

Close
my eyes
wind
does blow

Lavender
&
Lilies
flow

Moon kissed
seeds
sun dewed
weeds
&
memories
laid
to
rest

In
each
moment
lilacs linger

~I can still smell being a child~

I shall
do
my
best

Love
o’ mine
go home now

I kept
you
Forever
&
a day

I’ll meet you
in the
fields of clover
&
in my heart
you’ll
stay

©️ 2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Go Home Now

WILD FLOWERS

2020, Smith, Lynn R.
Wild Flowers 🌸

Some day.
Oh sweet some day.
What’s that?
Some day?
A place where tomorrow’s grow.
Like wild flowers.
Listen.
Hear that?
That’s the sound of sun beams
bouncing off the petals.
That is to a flower what a heartbeat is to me and you.

Where do tomorrow’s live?
Oh tomorrow’s live where the river flows.
Where a mountain peaks and an ocean rolls.
Some say that tomorrow isn’t promised
I say tomorrow’s a guarantee.
Mother nature is evidence of that.
Yes with life comes death.
But with sun and rain comes life.

Tomorrow is an interpretation away.
If your tomorrow starts without me it means my tomorrow’s with you become always.

I perceive my tomorrow’s are endless.
I then get to go everywhere you go.
I become for you what a drop of rain is to the dirt.
Vital.
When you call for me, I’m there.
You will feel me when life screams.
You will feel me when it’s silent.
Just believe.

One day when your tomorrow comes for you I will be waiting.
Holding out my hand for you.
We will sing.
We will dance.
We will pet the wildflowers with our toes.

Feel that?
That’s tomorrow.
Kind of like today only better.
Wild flowers everywhere.

2020 Smith, Lynn R.
Wild Flowers 🌸

OUR DRUNK ANGEL

Our Drunk Angel

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

I feel I need to update this post. This is a post of my truth. What and how I experienced events during this time. I apologize if anyone is offended in my sharing.

I do not apologize for my thoughts about those times. I do not apologize for the fact I know my parents both had problems. I do apologize to myself for walking on egg shells and tip toeing around my feelings in order to bring a sense of peace to everyone else. My siblings and my other relatives I’m certain have their own truths as well. I just decided to take my rose colored glasses off and not glamorize the experiences for anyone. That defeats my purpose. Thank you for understanding.

Our Drunk Angel

I don’t remember getting dressed for picture day on this specific day. Looking back though, I see a cute little girl who probably didn’t care anything about what she looked like. I mean for goodness sake; it was kindergarten.

Ragamuffin Picture day
Little Me

I do remember my Grandmother being furious about this photo. She wasn’t there that day though. She didn’t get to do her best to doll me up. She always took such pride in presentation; Even if she did wear pin-curls and a head full of rollers out to eat or anywhere else she ventured for what felt like at least a week with each new rolled set. I think she knew how important self esteem could be from the day we were all born. It seemed a priority to her and she did her very best to instill that in us kids.

Grandma & us on the first day of many new schools

I was home with Mom and Dad. ( well maybe one of them ) Dad may not have came in the night before and Mom may have been swallowing her diet pills with a drink from the pink can of T.A.B., crying and listening to Kenny Rogers. His song, LADY, burned in my brain for life. It meant they’d had a fight.

Little did I know it wasn’t going to be long and life was going to turn completely upside down for me and my siblings.

Talk about powerless.

I’ll never forget the mental photograph of my mom the day we left Spokane. The day she decided to pack a bag for my siblings and I, quickly; And be gone before our father got home.

Greyhound Bus Station here we come.

What I didn’t understand was why we had to leave our home and why we had to leave our dad, and all our other family behind. Of-course there was brief excitement for an adventure. I say brief because it was short lived.

I remember feeling extreme anxiety even as a kindergartener; I had 3 library books with me that needed to be turned in.

My mom sat at the very back of the bus with two men. “I need to read to my little brother and sister, and keep their eyes from wandering back there.” I remember how I felt back then and I wanted to make sure we were all okay.

I tried. I’m sure they saw her sprawled out in-between her new friends as they passed around a brown paper sack that covered ( The Grown Up Water. )

I’ll never forget the cloud of smoked that filled the back of that bus from them chain smoking…….

Mom looked like a Drunk Angel in the clouds.

Mom on the Highway to Hell

It’s heartbreaking when I look back and remember some of the things I saw my mother accept so she could survive a situation; Or was it so she could take an easy out? Maybe a mix of both. Not my monkey I suppose.

What I didn’t understand later in life was that we left because dad got drunk too often and couldn’t hold down a job, only so she could go and be with a man that held down a job but also a heavy fist.

He was great at handing dollar bills out and buying thing’s for people. I still recall the expressions of joy he received from his family when he showed up baring gifts for them all. Who cares that he just left welps and bruises all over his girlfriend’s son that cried too loudly in the other room because the bed was wet. One would think ( step daddy ) would have taken the big sparkly cowboy buckle off the belt first or at least just use the strap. Not this guy. No. This guy hated to share our mother and wanted to make sure we knew when the lights go out, we better go out too. My little brother broken, and my little sister scared to death.

I don’t remember feeling anything other than fear myself. Survival of the mentally fittest. I knew I had to mind him. I tried. God knows I tried. Tried for him to like me. Tried for him to accept me. Tried to keep the peace, as good as a kindergartner could.

It was not long and we were rescued. It felt like a rescue because mom knew she had to make the call to get us back home because she couldn’t take watching him punish us.

Some thought it was because she didn’t want us there, as we were inconvenient, but I, now, as a mother myself, know exactly what my mom was doing.

I carry a picture of her with two black eyes in a book I have. She probably doesn’t even know I have it. Mom was in survival mode.

Why I’d never settle for a man with a temper.

We ended up back and forth several times in our childhood due to other factors. Final stop was with him in our life everyday, after we lost our father to alcohol poisoning. A lot of bad with a little good.

I believe our parents did the best they could with the divorce and custody. It isn’t a pleasant experience for anyone. I just wish someone could have warned me ahead of time to be prepared for the long road ahead for my siblings and I.

That man died several years ago from cancer. Believe me I had no remorse in my bones as I watched him lay helpless in his hospital bed. I tried to be as kind as I could but it was very forced. Chemo poisoning him. Finally he is suffering. I see you Karma and I thank you. Isn’t that horrible? That I could feel so callus?

As I look back in time; I realize the only reason he didn’t punish or beat me as often as he did my little brother, was because I learned to manipulate him. I also had a big loud mouth by the time I was a teenager and he knew it.

I understand it now.

Survival mode.

My mom and her new husband had two more children later on. I mean no disrespect to either of them by this entry. I love them dearly and I am sure they have stories of their own. They came into the picture years later.

Once my sister and I got old enough that we could get out of there, we got out and stayed out. In our youth we definitely rebelled him more. Definitely didn’t go out of our way to respect him much.

Sisters

As an adult, I tried to force a relationship with him out of pity for my mother’s sake. When he died it felt like the weight of the world was lifted off of my shoulders. Briefly. Then it fell back on top of me like boulders. The powerless feeling lives on. That man left wreckage and my little brother still weeps.

Douglas Harold Riley Nill
Robbed from the start
We love you Riley

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Our Drunk Angel

Once Upon a Bottle of Booze

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

1 of 2

Today creativity consumes my anxiety and that is the utmost WIN.

Photo Credit to J.Linehan of Pinterest.

But.

I didn’t always know how to apply it in healthy ways. Some of us “ARE” just those people.

~Once upon a time her name was Tvarscki~
She said she was my best friend.

My best friend was fabulous and disgusting. She was cheap, and beautiful. She was a liar but I loved her. Talk about a relationship that is doomed from the get go.

How do I leave her behind?

She is evil, and only brings me poison, pain and problems.

So much easier said than done once she has her fangs deep in your artery fueling your brain and blood.

I heard many cries from loved ones.

Please STOP. Please get help. Please don’t call me again until you get better because my heart is breaking for you. Please understand I have to love you from a distance.

Please ~Please ~Please ~ QUIT DRINKING.

It’s okay. It happens. Hang in there. I need you and someone else does too. She isn’t worthy of your life. She is a disease. That is a gentle, soft, direct, honest, subtle approach.

Photo credit to Pinterest
No, Sweetheart.
When you’re drunk you don’t vomit glitter.

It’s not okay. You’re stuck in your addiction and this is a message of hope that you can grab the hand of other’s who have been stuck before and let them give you a tug out of the sickness and asshole of ego. That bitch is going to kill you. There’s the not so gentle, not so subtle, yet very honest approach.

Photo credit to Pinterest
~ Drunk girl and a cigarette~

I wrote this entry below when we were early in our new life living with the RONA. Businesses, families, life as we knew it~ PARALYZED and DYING.

The last time life got bumpy I tried drinking Bacardi, with mass fail. That ride ended on September 11th, 2018. approximately at 10:00 pm. That day is a blur, but around 2:00 pm the next day I had a decision to make. My family or feeding my fear.

Damn it. I love the effects of alcohol that I get from that first sip. Alcohol. You Bastard. You lied to me.

It pisses me off it comes down to a choice of good or evil, but for me it’s bad no matter how I start out or how hard I try to manage it and make it doable.

I like to give credit where credit is due. This time it goes out to many. I heard my family. I heard my friends. I heard my son’s and I heard the little girl inside of me who could predict her own future say to me, if you don’t stop you will end up cremated like the loved ones you have lost.

So change came, and it came stronger than ever. Bolder than ever, and it happened with me scared to death.

This time I used multiple things to redirect my anxiety. I write short stories. I read books and magazine’s. Journaling has became my priority. Studying to learn something new daily. Photography took me traveling. My backyard became a Haven. My family became my life support. My words became my medicine, and my medicine became my healing.

I hope you enjoy this two in one blog entry.

I Love You and I’m Grateful for You ALL today.

Love Always,

Lynn/CC

2 of 2

Alexa Add Stress Balls

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Those who know me, know when I am the most anxious, I am also the most creative.

Like Barney sings. I love you, you love me. We’re a happy family. 👨‍👩‍👦‍👦👨‍👩‍👧‍👦👩‍👩‍👧👨‍👩‍👦‍👦👩‍👩‍👦‍👦

🤷‍♀️ ya with me here?

My mind is over flowing on a regular basis day and night, with some nights longer than others.

The 3 A’s of my life today.

Awareness, Awwwwwwwww, and Amazing.

Do you pray they ask? Pray? 🙏🏻

Ofcourse I do.

Okay keep doing that, they say.

Do you journal? Journal📓? 🤷‍♀️ I shrug.

You know, use it as your outlet. 📣

My outlet? 🤷‍♀️

I’m fine. I got this. I am strong 💪.

Are you sure, they ask? 🧐

UM ? HMMMMM ? 🧐

Okay today is a little tougher. I say.

Tougher?, doubtful of my answer. 🧐🤷‍♀️

Can you elaborate?

Hoping I will answer honestly. 🤦‍♀️

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

Part of today just sucked. 🥴🤦‍♀️

Today I have 🙏🏻’d.

Today I have 🧘🏼. In with 😀 out with 😡.

Today I have 😭.

Today I have 👂and 🗣.

Today I have felt 🤢.

So yeah today has been busy.

Today I have been ~ (an emotional smorgasbord). 😀😡🤗🥱😴😬🤫😓 😤😰🥺🧐😜.

Today I have BEEN a bunch of stuff.

Maybe your today has BEEN a lot of things too. 🤷‍♀️

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT

👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂👂

I have NOT for one second been without the key🗝 to my hearts ❤️’s strength💪, or the key🗝 to my minds 🧠’s strength 💪 and most importantly, I have not been without the key🗝 to my healing strength🩺💪….

Today NOT ONCE, well maybe once.

Okay dang it.

Maybe twice.

Oh my gosh !!!!

Fine.

Maybe 3 times.

Maybe 3 times I almost lost my faith✝️ today because some days just, well, somethings and somedays just suck.

But I didn’t lose my faith ✝️.

Okay in all fairness, almost, yes.

What matters is I didn’t.

I prayed with you that pray.

I even prayed for you that don’t.

I leaned on you.

I called you. I ran errands for you. I showered for you. ( well that was mainly for me, but I am sure you appreciated it.)

Not one time though did I stop believing in happiness, kindness, love, faith & hope😊😌☺️🥰😘😍❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ even if I just clung to it all by the very last thread.

I held onto it.

So tightly sometimes I leave my fingernails in the palm of my hand but by golly I am holding on.

I am grabbing those stress ball toys.

Am I seriously the only one who does this?

I mean stress ball makers are millionaires because why?

You just throw them in a drawer? Ha ~ NOPE not me. People like me love those things.

We have probably tore more of those squishy dang 🏀⚾️⚽️’s into unsquishable piles of mush.

Insert “Alexa add STRESS BALLS to my shopping cart.” here.

There are probably 📆 we have all started to ❓our ✝️.

When it is so 🤯 and 🙃 it can be easy to become driven more by 😨 than by our ✝️.

It just all becomes so confusing, overwhelming and mind blowing. 😳🙃🤯.

Some day’s just suck. 😩

Those days that fear 😨 starts to feel stronger💪 than the faith✝️.

Those are the days I 🙏🏻 more.

I talk🗣 & listen👂to my friends more.

I write🗒✏️ more.

I squeeze 🤜 stress balls 🏀⚽️ more. ( great tool btw )

Today with everything going on in the world 🌍.

I choose to keep my gratitude list in my hand. To remind me and keep in the front row the things that matter most.

To see the many reasons I have to keep my faith ✝️ at the front.

These things are my world. 🌍

They are my family, husband and our 4 sons ( 👨‍👩‍👦‍👦🧍🏻🧍🏽), my relatives, my friends, neighbors and loved ones 👵🏻👩‍🦱👩🏻‍🦱👭, My cat’s 😽’s. Yes, my cats.

You love dogs , I love cats.

We don’t have to be a house divided.

Bottom line is we choose to love them.

I have amazing clients that have became like family.

Wow there were many times in the past I couldn’t have seen all of those things. As small of a list that may seem like to some.

That list is my EVERYTHING.

So no matter the size of your list or if for some reason today you just can’t think of anything. Hold on please.

Keep trying.

Because it wasn’t long ago, (sometimes feel just like yesterday ) that I too struggled to think of just ONE.

Those are the days you have to let others love you through it.

Those are the days you can say just hug me. No words, no advice, just hug me.

Those are the days I prayed the hardest.

Those are the days my legs were shaking and my heart beat the fastest.

Those are the days though that LOVE conquered all even when it might not have felt like it.

Why do I think that you ask?

Because I am sitting here today, writing this to you.

So just in case you need the reminder, let me say to you.

You are brave.

You are resilient.

You are beautiful.

Today I have said and done many things.

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Alexa Add Stress balls

His Bible Thumper Hat

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Misguided Angels that once guided me.

Souls like a Lucifer. Black and cold like a piece of lead.

Link above credits go to YouTube.

Before you get offended, keep one thing in mind.

Some of us have come along way to reach this level of love for any kind of a God or higher power.

I remember Gramma reminding us to say our bedtime prayer. I still start with that as a 46 year old when I lay me down to sleep. It took time, but it came back.

When I started praying again, after a time out, I started with STUPID.

It was suggested to me to just talk into the air and consider that my prayer. Consider the air my God. “What kind of hog wash is that,” I wondered. Indeed I thought that advice was as stupid as you may think this is now, as you are reading this.

Not to mention, talk about feeling stupid.

But I did it.

I did it, and it worked.

Thank you ~ The Haven.

I have been thanking GOD 24/7 since approximately 2012, even while the thread got tangled.

Life is so full of beauty today and I always try to see the good in other’s first.

Even now as I write this. I’m inspired to do so by someone’s beautiful heart. A heart that is broken and hurting today. I relate to this young lady and her heart right now.

Looking at her circumstance is like looking in the mirror at 14 year old me.

This is not me shaming or belittling your God or your book.

Even though you may absorb it as such. I halfway apologize if this hurts you.

This is my authenticity bleeding here and now because it wasn’t okay to do so back then.

This is me sharing what your interpretation of that book caused me in my youth and where I am with it all now in the middle of my life.

Where there’s a River, there’s a church.
Me, Our Youngest son, and my loving husband Dusty. I know with my whole heart, God made him for us.

This is me sharing my love for GOOD and what I feel as God wraps me in sunshine again this morning.

My husband and my youngest son, sitting and talking, here on the patio with me.

Reminding me how blessed I am. How every day is a new day and to live it like I’m dying. Why? Because I am. We all are.

I wrote this on my way home last night, as the youngest son rode shotgun with his bonus Dad.

Two Peas in a Pod
September 6th 2020

I can say God is GOOD because the word God no longer scares me. I hope you remember that because this moment we’re all in will pass and this time next year thing’s will be different.

You will be different, maybe very different, and it’s quite possible something will change the entire universe you’re in.

I do hope your stomach turns and your heart hurts if you are guilty of forcing a love like this onto someone else.

The love I will share with you that they once tried to cram down my throat. Down the throat of my siblings. Down the throat of the ones I loved the most. Myself, guilty of trying to feed my own children the fear of God.

What if?

What if instead?

What if instead of cursing the girl barely holding on by a thread, you love her gently and offer her your hand to hold?

My Dad and I.
I cried myself to sleep that night after reading a letter from my mom.
She wasn’t coming to see us.
His arm around me is the LOVE of God.
My heart was breaking and he held me close.
My siblings and I all got one letter to share. My sister to the left being comforted by our Dad. My brother in the center with an expression that speaks for itself.

Hold her, let her cry, let her know you love her by your actions, not your scripture.

In those photos above we were broken because you took our mom and she drank your poison, leaving us to wonder why.

To the man I see in you now doing the same thing to another woman and the children she bared.

STOP IT.

What if that lesson to be learned isn’t your decision to make or to teach her?

What if her heart is made of pure gold but your eyes only know how to see the worst in people?

As you claim to be of God, you look down on others as if they are put here to live a life just for you, like a page out of your little black book.

I have faced many of you, and looked in your eyes and saw a bottomless black hole.

It is you that’s missing out and it’s you I hear God saying to me I need protected from.

As if you have some kind of super human God power.

That’s not what I read when I read that same book.

That’s not what the pastor said to me the day I was baptized.

That’s not what my heart feels when pages from the book are shared with me.

I was told to love my sister and my brother.

I was told do good and to be good.

Your book gets confusing.

I respect that book but I will never beat you up with it.

Stop deceiving people into the evil you have from it’s interpretation.

I feel God every time I put my feet in the River. I see God every time I look out across an open sky. I hear God every time the birds sing. I hear God every time a child laughs. I see God every time a child smiles. I hear God every time a child says I love you. I feel God every time that child hugs my neck. I see God in all I do and if I don’t, it’s not because God left my side. I’m the one who let go of the hand that holds mine. Not the other way around. I’m never without the power of that love, beauty, strength, or resilience. I make a choice if I don’t see, hear or feel it. A conscious choice.

I won’t let you burn down my church. You can’t. You don’t have the power to take that away from me or anyone else.

I will always share the holy water that wraps it’s arms around me as I walk into it.

I will always hold my hand out to you if you want to go with me.

I can talk to you until I’m blue in the face about how good God is to and for me. I won’t though. I don’t have to do that.

The only thing I have now to say I’ve learned about God, is that every thing you tried to force onto me about what God was to you and what God was supposed to be to me, is everything I’ve found God not to be.

Do wrong and just head to confession.

What kind of twisted communion bread is that?

That’s only asking for misguided angels, if you ask me, which I’m sure you won’t.

That’s also what I call biblical torture and child abuse.

Then you cry out to God and wonder why people choose to walk away from you, from the church.

You can’t teach God, nor can you take a heart into your hand and brand God onto it, and expect it to beat for a man.

The book wasn’t written for you to throw at people. It wasn’t written for you to manipulate people. It wasn’t written to give you permission to be almighty.

That scripture you quoted in the same breath you used to call her a whore, where is God in that?

What if her pillow is soaked in tears as she prays herself to sleep tonight because your words hit her like a leather strap to the face?

The God I know is sitting on the side of her bed watching this beautiful girl cry, as you are in the other room highlighting tomorrow’s verse of the day.

What if you’re too busy trying to per-fect a book that’s been written for man by many men and you’re missing out on the true love of God because of such perfection?

What if for one moment you stop playing a game of God and look around at the beauty your eyes can behold that is God.

What if you let God love you back instead of acting as God?

I love the book too.

BUT……..

A VERY BIG BUT…….

I refuse to fall for another man made tale of who God is or isn’t.

If you treat another heart as diseased then, are you not yourself, the cancer?

I refuse to let that book give me a false sense of authority over another heart and soul as I watch it weeping with fear and sorrow.

A soul you have only shattered by being so religiously abusive towards.

Come child, sit beside me at church today. For a moment you can forget that I plan to punish and love you my way later.

STOP THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH

I refuse to sit quietly while you morally and ethically harm and injure another child of God.

An innocent child.

A spirit made of pure LOVE.

Why?

How could you?

How can you?

She loves you unconditionally even when you believe she failed you in the eyes of a MAN MADE BOOK of many interpretations.

Where is GOD in that?

Where is LOVE in that?

Shame on you.

Shame on you for shunning her.

Shame on you for belittling her.

Shame on you for expecting her to believe in everything you are telling her.

Shame on you for expecting her to accept that kind of love.

The kind of LOVE THAT GOD IS NOT.

This comes today from someone who’s been force fed poisonous religions, yes plural, like IV fluids are fed to a vein.

A wise woman once said to me, “Grab your ass and hold.” She was NOT kidding.

This is me passing on her advice.

I choose GOOD today.

I choose LOVE today.

I choose God today.

Feel the difference.

There’s Religion and there’s God.

There’s too much of one and not enough of the other.

Life is too beautiful to be so cruel in religion.

Life has too much beauty in it to be anything other than God.

Good and Bad, sure, there’s both. Does evil exist? Yes. It is a sad truth it walks the same earth we do. But God is NOT evil.

If someone tells you God is anything other than loving, please pray your way through that with all your might.

I believe they say that to trick you into falling into a close minded trap.

If the shoe doesn’t fit, DON’T WEAR IT.

Even God hopes you find your church, your ability to pray and your inner peace.

Those that try to steal that JOY from your heart, those are thieves.

Protect your heart and your heaven at all costs.

Now Go.

Before I thump you back with some LOVE.

P.S. These are the girls you tried to break.

No Mud, No Lotus.
Sisters
Jennie D’Lee Nill Tate
&
Lynn Rilean Nill Smith

I Don’t Need 9-1-1. I Have Her.

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

What does it mean when you are the oldest sybling to a Ninja?

I took one of her kick boxing classes once.
I felt every time I ever crossed her in our life during that one class.
I heard her singing a song from the movie Grease.
You Better Shape Up.

All kidding aside~ It was probably the best exercise I’d had in 30 years.


I tease as I say Ninja, but honestly I don’t even attempt to challenge my sister today. Not only because we have out grown that part of us but I’m not stupid. I have no doubt that Chuck Norris would even tap out.

Knocking Knees~ A game we played as children.
Part of that big imagination we had as kids is my guess as to why we would think this was fun.
Also part of the reason why I take Tylenol on occasion for knee pain.

Jennie Nill Tate ~I am looking forward to our one on one interview. Prepare for this topic.

No one was injured in order to write this.
Although it looks like we had an OUCH moment.

If you have ever wondered if Martial Arts is something you would want to do or even could do. I encourage you to watch the videos I have attached and read this blog entry.

Could it really make that much of a difference?

I chose to share a few videos that touched my heart the most, and I answer the question with an absolute yes.

So what does it mean exactly when little sister is a Ninja?

It means you respect her more now then ever because she has self discipline, self control and in my experience arm wrestling her, she has strength that I can’t compete with.
A self defense tool? More like a self defense tool box. Extremely Valuable.
Full of knowledge and wisdom.
Armed with weaponry’s that begin in the mind.
The ultimate weapon, I must say.

Truly, it is more than just a method of self defense.

It is somewhat of a spiritual experience as well, from what I have witnessed.
Sure. You have the strength and muscle on the outside, but it is that inner strength and control that is the force to reckon with.
Beautiful in my eyes.

Do you know her? Can you relate?
The once shy girl that you would barely speak to, and she would cry?

Speak in public? Her? Ha. Never?

Until this journey, she took me traveling just so I could do the talking.
Now, today, in our 40’s, it is her I want to take traveling with me. Ever made a wrong turn and found yourself alone in a dark alley? Or a playground?
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles aren’t real, but my Ninja Sister is, and what she teaches children today in her Dojo is available to arm your children with confidence because she knows first hand what it is to be without.

I say this with great confidence myself today as a writer, and I have no doubt our late father, Douglas Lee Nill, 2nd degree black belt in Karate~ Lotus style Self Defense, is no doubt, very proud, of his once very shy and quiet little girl.

Our father Douglas Nill ~ Testing up.
He is no doubt smiling down on Jennie.

See attached link to video below that shows the transformation that signing a child and/or adults up for Martial Arts can make all the difference in the world for self esteem and security in oneself.

https://www.facebook.com/BroadmoorKarate/ You can be a part of her fan club here.


I know, because this is my once very shy, timid, insecure little sister.

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Pure O – Living in Endless Fear

Mental Health Matters

2020, Smith Lynn Rilean

Stop. Read. Listen. Learn.

The link I provide below is not only factual but exceptionally informative. I definitely needed to come across this link this morning, as I myself woke up with a heavy heart.

I encourage anyone who may have experienced or currently live with ( OCD and or Pure O ) to read this article.

It is so well written and the Author doesn’t hold back. I appreciate the honesty written here and have the utmost respect for those who know or can relate to even a part of this article.

If you scroll down in the link I provided, you can read more about the common struggles, and thought process, and quite possibly begin to understand what it is like inside the mind of someone you know, love, and care for that lives with Pure O and or OCD.

“ Pure O” is real and a thief of ones peace of mind.

I personally have a very close loved one who can spell out Pure O and OCD rituals clearly~ I watched it rob and ruin many special moments for that individual. Thank God for therapy and experienced, educated individuals that can help you understand that which is a mystery to most.

On occasion it still shows up and roars like an angry lion. I have learned that all I can do is listen, remind them to let it “the thought” play out, which they seem to do well now themself with less suffering, and just continue to love them unconditionally.

The beauty of the people living with Pure O and OCD is that they also give you brutal honesty. Sure, they may try to hide a compulsion like how many times they have to start over brushing their teeth or washing their hands for fear of judgement from peers, but to know the heart of the one living inside that mind is nothing but PURE GOLD that makes Pure O and OCD seem irrelevant. You can thank me later for this. It truly will make a difference to AT LEAST ONE person.

George Ezra opens up about his OCD – Why is it important?

Thank you Mark Wester.

http://over-coming-ocd.com

You truly make a difference and your sharing your experience is greatly appreciated.

Mental Health Matters

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean