My walls at the old house were pink. Pink with blue and purple butterflies and dragonflies painted on them with Barbie wall border glued underneath. I loved Barbie. You took a step into my room, and there she was: fifteen dolls, two cars, a movie, video camera, storage case, cruise ship, dream house, life-size doll, and a styling head. I played with them every afternoon. They were happy; they were controlled, so I liked them. I liked playing with them, and I liked being able to escape to their world.

It was a world where people stayed happy and were immune to sadness and despair. A world where people were treated fairly and didn’t argue or leave each other’s side. A world where people only smiled because all Barbie did was smile, and that’s all she would ever do because I controlled her and her world, even when I couldn’t control the world outside of it. So of course, I wouldn’t let Barbie’s world be shaken by a new baby, a looming divorce, or a move. Except her world was shaken with the move because she didn’t come with me.

The walls at the new house weren’t pink. They didn’t have flying insects painted on them or Barbie wall border. The walls at the new house were white. Ugly, drab, and unsightly white. I hated them just like I hated the new house, just like I hated not having my Barbies. Especially when my own world was shaken by a court battles, a new school, and a new life altogether. I needed the dolls; they were stable.

They were controlled.

I was blindsided by changes that were being thrown at me from every angle. Some were small, some bigger. Either way, I didn’t want to adjust. I wanted to be an angry, stubborn, grumpy nine year old girl. I wanted my Barbie dolls, but they were long gone. Sooner or later, I was going to have to go on without them. So, after a while, I did.

Without my dolls, I saw and I learned a lot more. I learned no one could go through life by turning to a Barbie doll and that sometimes you just had to get up and stand to whatever problems were in your way whether they were at home, school, or wherever and not run and hide behind closed doors. I learned I always had to be strong. I needed to be strong for my family and for myself, too. I learned that everything was going to be alright the way it was and that even though I missed the old house, I could love the new one just as much. Then the walls didn’t look quite as unsightly as before, instead they looked almost fresh, clean, and ready to begin, or begin again like I was. I didn’t forget the pink walls; I just remembered that sometimes you have to rise from the past and its problems so you can walk towards the future in search of better days. That some won’t be as great as others, and sometimes your smile won’t be as bright or not bright at all because believe it or not, not even Barbie smiles all the time.