Just stop it

I've heard that for years and because of recent events with my Mother I'm hearing it all over again and all over again it irritates me. To me and I'm only speaking for me,"Just stop it" is like telling a dog to be a cat. Now I'm sure with years of therapy, I could learn to stop it but to just stop it?

I am filled with more and more anger every day over recent events, I am not sure though if that anger is at her or myself. How after everything I have been through can I still be so naive? How after everything I have seen can I still be so weak?

My biggest question, is how can I hide it? I am a professional who must be that at work, I cannot have meltdowns in my position, I must be poised and carefree. I have never been good at hiding my feelings.

I am listening to this story on the news as I write this, "boy accused of bullying, kicked out of school then takes own life". Was he abused at home? Did anyone ask him or did they just scream and hit? No, I'm not at all sticking up for the "bully", I'm just asking, was the "bully" bullied?

Nobody asks anything they just assume. Life is not a soap opera, people become damaged, some hang by a thread and you don't even know it. I promise you won't have to share this blog in a deposition because of my "untimely end".

My point is that...who can just stop it?

Let's start over...

Angela K Roberts and Susan...

This is us, Mom and I. I've been all over the place so far with this blog because that's what is in my head, confusion, disorder, disaray. We look normal right? Happy, middle class Mom and Daughter.

Susan was a full time employee of Chrysler, a Union Steward who happily kicked up the dust at work on a regular basis. She was a fighter. More often than not her fighting mood would follow her home. Of course it was all dependant on the home "situation" as to who "got it".

By the time we moved to Roseville, Michigan (which I cannot stress enough how much I hated that place), Susan was single and a year away from meeting her 4th husband. When Mom was married (and not arguing), she was happy however if there was a domestic disagreement anybody in the way would be victim...

I believe the marriage lasted a couple years, I remember the day he left. They spent a lot of time in the back bedroom, I think I heard my mother cry (never ever saw or heard her cry but that day I think I did.

I remember her telling me, very close to my face to intimidate me and it worked, "if I ever have to choose between and man and you again, you are out of here". She meant that...

1950 Trumbull just off Michigan Avenue

1987 I had just turned 17 and was being escorted into Alternatives for Girls. It was a beautiful church. I cannot remember who actually drove me that night, my mind was fuzzy, I remember feeling sick and like this couldn't be happening to me.

I was greeted by Father John and a wonderful woman who shall remain nameless because I do not have her permission. I'm sure they sat me down and gave me the formalities, showed me around the church, and Father John made a point of expressing what time prayer was.

It was very  quiet there, I was sad, sick and scared. There was one other girl there when I arrived. As time went on, I would notice that you didn't get a "sisterhood" friendly reception, you were sharing their attention, space and nobody was particularly "happy" to see you, except the adults.

I eventually found my corner and as time went on you realized that everyone was feeling like you, some worse.  One day in particular I had made "friends" with one of the girls who was crying and sick all day, I would ask her throughout the day if she needed anything and she kept saying she was fine and just needed to lay on the couch.

Later that evening she ran to the bathroom screaming..our cleaning lady and "house mother' Doris ran in to see to her. I being nosey ran up to see Doris cleaning what was left of a miscarriage.

I still was not ready for this...

The staff at the shelter made many attempts to "reconnect with my parents", ultimately that was the goal, they were not a flop house they were a fix house. Unfortunately, my parents would only hang up on them.

After the Emancipation papers came in, I stopped trying....until much later.

I remember now, calling my father years later and he said,"I thought you were dead, I haven't heard from you in a year". Wonder why he didn't come looking if he thought I was dead is what I thought.

I would cling to the adults as much as I could while staying there, helping them with charitable events, "Save Tiger Stadium"...it's the only family I had.

This is in front of the Church where I lived. This was a charity to "hug" Tiger Stadium to stop them from tearing it down...didn't work. Here I am with the bear.

Just Girl...: If you only knew half of it...

Just Girl...: If you only knew half of it...

If you only knew half of it...

After my Step Mother demanded I leave or it would be her, my father (who either concurred or was just a coward) called my mother and told her I was on the next plane to Michigan. My mothers response, " she's not welcome here".

I stayed at my best friends house for about two evenings before she broke the news that her parents could not allow me to stay there. So many reasons and all of them legitimate. I loved them and I love them now and understand their reasoning at the time and may have done the same as an adult.

As we sat in her kitchen the day I was to leave, I started calling numbers from the yellow pages and dialed the United States Army recruiters..."Ma'am you are too young to join the Army, why are you trying to join?" ...me, "because I have nowhere to live, I'm homeless". I wish I could remember his name. Because of him, I found Alternatives for Girls, I think I was the second or third girl to live there. I was really going to miss my friend...I really only had one good friend.

At 16 an Army Sgt. in Detroit helped me find my new place to live. A homeless shelter in Detroit called "Alternative for Girls" which is still in existance and I encourage you to donate if you can to them. They saved my life and for that I will be forever grateful. It was their job to not only provide shelter but to try to repair girls and families.

While staying there, we had to apply for financial assistance, welfare basically. I remember sitting in Social Services office in downtown Detroit amongst women with crying babies, guys pacing back and forth talking shit like they were going to kick someone's ass however they were talking to themselves. Here I am, a young girl of 16, looking like I was 13 sitting in an office smelling of a combination of urine and alcohol with an after scent of pot. I would notice tons of people looking at me, I wasn't nervous, I was too young and immortal to be nervous. I did stick out like a sore thumb, I was one of few white people just by proxy of where I lived however the white people that were there were "different". Anyway, finally after hours of sitting in the lobby I hear my name, "Angela Roberts". I sit down at this desk in a cubicle with a stern woman asking me personal questions. "is your mother and father living"? , "Yes", "then why are they not taking care of you"? "Because they don't want me anymore". The stern and annoyed lady asks for the phone numbers of my parents, she called each one identifying herself and each parent hung up right after the introduction...Alternatives for Girls wasn't going to repair this family ever...

A month later a letter came to me in the shelter, a letter!! It was from some judge in Mt. Clemens, I couldn't understand the legal jargon so the counselor sat me down and explained to me that my mother gave up her parental rights and that legally, I was on my own, nobody wanted to be responsible, I was officially a throwaway.

I had an allowance of $20 a week for food, had to take the bus to get my groceries, they were teaching us life skills, I hated it but I appreciate it more than words could ever do justice. I worked fast food jobs, watched girls my age 10x tougher than me and way more experienced than me, have miscarriages, abortions, admit to prostitution and drugs and here I was a virgin, suburban girl in downtown Detroit, in the second floor of an Episcopal Church, Father John was the head of the church...He would ring the bell every morning for us girls to come to the chapel to pray, faithfully and without fail. Sometimes his attendance always being on the low side, he would get clearance to come up to our floor and start ringing that bell, yelling "prayer in the chapel"!! Father John was like Santa to me, every time I saw him he made me smile. I never went to prayer...

Girl: Is there no end?

Girl: Is there no end?: "It's Friday night, I'm considering this whole blog thing and wondering what the hell I think I'm doing and then I get an email about 'her'. ..."

Drug addict

My mother said to me, "Angie do not post this picture you look like you are on drugs". I was and have been in severe pain for some time now,I'm getting older, I'm tired, pain does that to you, that's what you see, not drug abuse.


October has always been a bad month for me. My mothers birthday is in October, my father died and was buried in October...just too many things.

Today is October 30th, and again my mother and I are not speaking. I went through the range of emotions, first I was hurt, then angry and now resolved. I'm shocked at how quickly the cycle went this time. This is afterall, the third or fourth time now...HA! I lost count, that's sick.

October 1996 my Father, Gary Roberts passed on, with him so many unanswered questions and secrets. He was married with three kids when he left this earth, however, his first child was born in 1968 of which I cannot find. His name at birth was Patrick Michael Roberts, his mother was eskimo from Anchorage Alaska, my father met her when he was in the Air Force. Then there was my sister Sandy who died at 3 months old from crib death, Dad said Mom was never the same after that day. Apparently, she found her in that state when she went to get her from her nap...I would never be the same either.

1970 here I am! 3 months later they divorced.There would be 4 more men to try to be "daddy" in the next 9 years.

 Then there is my sister who I found online who I adore and has filled such a gap in my life as well as her family.

I may not look glamorous and beautiful on the outside but I'm rich on the inside and feel I have so much love to give, it's like someone in the ocean who drinks the water and because the water is salty the thirst is never quenched.

A child starved of love and nuturing is the same, you can never get enough, even into adulthood the thirst is never quenched ever. I'm so glad I'm not ashamed to say "I love you" I'm so happy to be free with my emotions, nobody in my life when I die someday will ever wonder how I felt about them.