Where To Begin? How Do You Open Up?

 

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This was me and two of my little ones back in the spring of 2004.

 

Hi, my name is Lynna, I am a recovering broken soul and here is my story.  I don’t want to share it in order to garner any sympathy from you but rather I give you my life in hopes to be able to possibly help you to not make the many mistakes that I have along the way.  I am also writing in hopes that someday, my five precious children can some day look on upon these words and learn to understand who their daddy was.  I am going to warn you however, I am going to be raw and I am going to be honest, I am going to,”leave it all out on the field”, as some would say.  I refuse to leave one stone unturned and I also promise to be completely, real and transparent with all of you.  I’ll be honest, some of you might just want to hate my guts at times but then you may find yourself wishing that you might reach out and give me a big hug.  This is my life and this is the story of a person who has taken their life down the road less traveled…and tripped…

 

road choice

 

Where do I begin, how do I open up to tell you about me?  Well, first of all, I’m kind of boring!   No really, I grew up a pretty average middle class life in sunny Southern California.  My parents were pretty normal for all intentions and purposes.  One thing though, we were deeply religious, well at least we looked the part anyway.

 

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That’s my mom on the left, her mom and dad, mis abuelos and my dear papi.

 

I was the second and last child born to my mom and dad.  My sister came along eight years before that and she was the little princess of the house and daddy’s little girl.  Let’s just say that my arrival was not one of my sister’s better days.  She was so used to all of that attention and all of a sudden then came me, a little bundle of joy.  As I grew, I could tell that she was jealous of me.  I wondered why, heck I had no idea?

 

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This is my sister Lilly and I back around 1982, when I was 12.

 

I don’t really remember much about those early years (Who does as a toddler anyways?) except for what I have seen in old family pictures.  My dad loved to dress me up in little suits to look like his mini me.  One particular memory that I have was on my 5th birthday party when I had to wear this god-awful red polyester blazer, white dress shirt, red tie and red and white herringbone pants.  I still remember how embarrassed I felt as my parents insisted that take pictures looking like that.  To top it all off, they placed my dad’s Red Carpet Realtor name tag with my dad’s name on it on my lapel.  Oh, the things that parents do!   I hated that day but there was one day coming that would impact me for the rest of my life…

 

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Little Paulie had no care in the world and looks like he loved seeing his shadow.

 

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