Facebook Teenage Angst

Back in my teen years there was no Facebook. No immediate social interaction with boys across the country, or globe. At the most you could be pen pals, remember those?


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But if you didn’t like them anymore, or moved on to the next pen pal romance…..no big deal. Just stop writing. This was the 80’s.

Today…..


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Facebook completely changed things. You have immediate connections. Friends in common. Pictures to peruse and many, many other crush worthy items from her bio, to music, to interests. She likes silly bandz, she likes COOKING, she likes Hot Topic, and the mall. We are just alike….I Facebook HEART her. The boy creeps hard on her page, and her online hangouts. They can be from the same town, school, or even from across the country; like New Jersey.

From the Facebook platform communication can progress to text messaging, chat, and skype.

Then, when a teenage girl decides she doesn’t like a crushing boy. How does she lose this creep? It’s very similar to my day. Just stop texting skyping chatting talking facebooking. Simple.

Not so simple for him. He is still crushing on his Facebook teen idol.

Her. My daughter.

But she has moved on and is not looking back.

Teenage angst ensues.


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And you would think that is the end. Crush over. He moves on.

But, noooooo!

See, Facebook gives you the option of listing your PARENTS on your Facebook page and if there is one thing a teenage crushing boy knows is his stalked’s page forwards and backwards (because he creeps it).

The boy emails the mom. In this case, ME.

And what could he possibly say?

He says, “Sydney is in a bad place and is cutting herself.”

What?!?!?

Oh, and please don’t tell her he sent me a Facebook message. He is just trying to get her in trouble save her.

I’ll admit, I had a bit of angst myself. Did I know my child? Was she EMO? Was I missing something? Was I completely freakin’ BLIND?

Um. No.

This girl cries from a scratch that doesn’t break the skin. She points, and points to a tiny mark. I squint to see it but can’t. Mooommmm, it hurts. What hurts? I can’t see a thing!

Cutting? I don’t think so.

But I did learn something. Teenage crushes snuffed on Facebook cause great ANGST.

Poor guy.

It was pretty sneaky to facebook message the parent listed on her page. But, I didn’t fall for it. And he is soooo busted. Please, move on to your next victim crush. Sydney is just fine.

I don’t just Facebook with her. I live with her.

I know I sound old, but my how times have changed….

See what others are saying about angst on Mama Kat’s Losin it writer’s workshop.
Prompt 2) Angsty

Country Girl goes Big

Big city that is. Her days in the country being packed away into the back of a horse trailer hitched to a big Dooley truck. Off it would head, south from Oklahoma, straight into the heart of the big city – Dallas, Texas. Nothing could stop her. No one could tell her the risks, the realities, or the brisk way of life. Nope. She was eighteen. She knew what she wanted. She knew better than anyone.

Since age thirteen, she wanted to beat a path to the city. The bigger the better. Her one horse town, without even a stop light, just wasn’t cutting it. Where was the excitement? The interesting jobs? The interesting people? Where? In the city, that’s where. In this dusty place, she would find the same ol’ dreary life as everyone else. Her jaw set, her chin pointed up, and there was grit in her eye. She was MOVING. Moving to the city. She would survive it and no, she wasn’t coming back. Ever.

It didn’t take long to pack up her stuff. Her childhood bed. Her one dresser, nightstand, and desk. Even her classic lingerie chest. Yes, she had a lingerie chest – skinny and tall. The furniture was a gift from her Aunt Lizzie when she was a small child. Antiques is what her mom called them, whatever that means. It would do until she could buy more contemporary stuff. Stuff city folk would use in their rooms.

She had purchased a couch. Wisely, she chose one with a pull-out bed, since the apartment was one bedroom. Unfortunately, it was heavier than Pappa’s old gun safe. Also unfortunate? Being carried up a flight of stairs to her second floor newly rented apartment – in the city, mind you. Her dishes were a gift from her mother. Her TV a hand me down. Luckily the apartment had a fridge and a washer and dryer already.

After the long five-hour drive, and too many tanks of gas pulling a horse trailer, she arrived. The young girl from outside a plain Oklahoma town of twenty thousand, smack dab in the – everythings bigger -Texas, where she shared her air with several million others. What a rush.

Her first day wasn’t hard. She gathered all her furniture in place. No parents. No big sister. No big brothers. No authority. Just her and HER place. She twirled. She skipped. She bounced on the couch. Finally, she was on her own. Yahoooooo!

Finding her way around, without getting creamed proved the most difficult part. There were many highways with loops and exits. Following an exit ramp to what they called an access road just confused her. Was the yield sign to her, or to them? She always used caution and yielded, but still – confusing. Another tiny drawback, her job required that in case of emergency, she was back up delivery runner to the back up delivery runner. Yeah, seemed far-fetched, but guess what happened her first day.

In this year of 1990, the best way to navigate was to consult a map. Specifically map books, called Mapscos, for the Dallas, and surrounding areas. Looking up an address required finding it in the index, then it gave a page number, and a graph matrix code. Following the code and page number to your destination, which was only on one page. To access the entire route required investigating the pages it directed, as the before or after page, depending on which direction you coming from, or heading to. Huh? It was not easy.

As a country girl she knew landmarks; not street signs, not numbered routes, tollways, looped turnarounds, one-way lanes and certainly not all printed out on pages. Which way was North anyhow? But her first delivery. The pressure.

She hopped in the delivery car. Sure of her direction, sure of her map skills. Ignorantly confident. Important urgent document in hand to deliver as soon as possible. It was only twenty minutes away. No way could she get lost, at least that’s what the boss said.

She got lost. Hopelessly lost. Nothing matched the road maps. Nothing went the way it seemed. Each turn she thought was right – wrong. She was entirely off the map. The only thing she could find was the airport. AN HOUR went by. She cried, but refused to give up. TWO went by. Stubborn, and torn she called in. Shame burned. Country girl ruined. Beaten by the city. This was the life she chose?

Finally, the directions from the company she was delivering to led her there, she delivered and actually made it back without a problem. Facing her boss, however, would be. She was scared to death.

Rent. Furniture. Bills. A life started, and dreams potentially shattered, what would happen? Two and half hours it took her to take one item. Who in their right mind would keep, a bumbling bumpkin, like her on staff? She tucked her humiliation away, swallowed hard, and went to face the music. She entered into her bosses office head held high. But he just laughed at her and promised better directions next time.

Country girl vowed to never get lost on a delivery again. The city life was hers for the taking, and thus it began. A new beginning from open land to paved roadways. From empty spaces to shopping malls. From hometown girl to city slicker.

Success is never final, failure is never fatal. It’s courage that counts” -John Wooden

Photos by-Angelia Sims

*previously posted on Real Bloggers United*

Wild Party, Wild Story


Back in the early days of living with Sydney’s Dad……this is how we spent our weekends. Our friends would come over we would play drinking fun games. This pic was pre-Syd, pre-marriage taken most likely summer of 1992.

The one in the white shirt with jean shorts waving – that’s Sydney’s Dad Sonny – hi Sonny! Love the 90’s fro.

Most of the people at the table are from Sonny’s work. He worked at Oshman’s in the Six Flags mall. It’s a sporting goods store mainly known as Sports Authority now. A few friends are from my work, a travel agency in Irving. And some are childhood friends (sorry Kristi).

But seriously, are we having a blast or what? Did you find me? I’m the blonde curly smiley person in the back. Yeah, spiral perm maybe?

I am around 21yrs old (maybe younger, shhh). This was our apartment in North Arlington near where Jason lives now. At the time, the Fort Worth Fire hockey team lived there as well. Since minor league hockey was brand new (I think) that was big stuff back then and most likely why we lived there because we were cool like that. (right Sonny?)

This could even be my 21st birthday bash. Who knows? I’m glad to find these pictures because I don’t remember much. 🙂

I’ve lived in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex for twenty years. I moved around A LOT. But MOST of the twenty was in the Arlington area, where I live now. Arlington back in that day was a town of about half a million and now it’s at least three quarters of a million or quite possibly a million peeps strong.

That’s a lot of peeps. It’s a big place. Getting to point in 3-2-1..Jason lived not far from the party pad. His mom’s house is two streets over where he grew up and would have been living at that time.

I would randomly say as we drove by -there is where I used to live. He surprised me one day by saying, “Me too”. We tried to figure out if we lived there at the same time, if we crossed paths but we didn’t. It was many years later when he lived there.

We did remember the now old movie theater was the exciting new one in our day. It was a big deal when it was built because it was the first all stadium seating. The Target shopping plaza wasn’t half closed but just opened. Time is not kind to these buildings. That area did not thrive.

One day I mentioned Sonny worked at Oshmans. He said, “So did my Mom.” THOSE dates matched. But even more than that, HE worked for Oshmans too, as a teenager. By checking the year and the store, we discovered, not only did Sonny work with his mom, HE worked with Sonny too. Woah!

I am not kidding. Jason and I are three and half years apart. When I was 20 he was a clerk at Oshmans around 16 1/2 years old. This conversation is taking place a few months after we started dating and it’s blowing my mind.

His brother worked at the same store. I thought his brother sounded more familiar than he did, it seemed likely we had met back in the day. We had lunched with him a few weeks back but I couldn’t say for sure that I knew him.

Jason worked in the shoe department. I tried to remember seeing him, picturing him at someone’s knees with a pair of Nikes. Here is a picture of Jason around the age of working at Oshmans with my ex-husband.

I have a snapshot memory of him being behind the gun counter. I don’t know if it’s real or imagined. Still…I really met Jason long, long ago? Really? Well, apparently, and his brother too. After they went off to be in the Marines. Sonny continued working with Jason’s mom for many, many years.

What makes this story wilder than the party? Well as we are having this conversation, I pull out some old photos. We discover the three above. I say, “See, it’s the apartments by your house where we had the parties during your Oshman days. Do you recognize anyone? Most are from the Six Flags mall store.”

You could say that he did. The guy in the PINK shirt in all three pictures, brownish hair in a mullet cut (popular in the 90’s, don’t judge). Jason’s brother Todd in all his party day glory (love ya brother-these pics are priceless).

Can we all hold hands and sing?

It’s a small world after all.
It’s a small world after all.
It’s a small world after all.
It’s a small, small world.

My future family and I crossed paths eons ago. How WILD is that?

Taking hold: Overcoming-my divorce(es)

OK. Time to dig down deep and pull up all the thick black crud buried deep down in the pit of my gut. Scrape away the residue and explain to you —my deepest darkest crime.

Not only being divorced ONCE. But to reprehensibly do it TWICE.

The shame is profound.

I have beat myself up over them, so many times, I have permanent bruises. I have HUGE indentations on my heart, that, one would call scars. No, I don’t think I will EVER forget the pain those created, nor will the pain of those divorces, ever truly be abolished. They will always remain intricately woven into my very being forever.

Have a I learned to live with them? Yes. Will I ever marry again? Yes. Have a I grown and learned from them? Yes. Would I be who I am today without them? No.

My divorces, explain who I am and why. They represent, an unchangeable, growth I had to endure.

First off, my life of divorce did not begin with my own divorce. It began with my mother’s divorce, before I was even born. My brother and sister have a different Dad. Then, my mom married my Dad, and my brother and I were born. Finally, she married my step dad when I was about 5yrs old. I was BORN into divorce. My life was swallowed up by it and produced from it.

My first marriage, I was very young. I met my first husband when I was 18, married him at 21, and had a baby daughter at 22. We were young and immature and barely starting our own lives. So, when things didn’t go EXACTLY as I wanted it, when my marriage faced many trials, and losses, I fled. I just checked out. It was easier to run than to work through the problems. What did it matter? I was a child of divorce and I survived. My child would survive. My life would survive.

The breakdown happened when I began conversing with a client. He was young, cute, and cool; something different, something new. I had a big crush. Rather than let it be that, a crush, and  just fun. I entertained the idea of a “relationship”. And that my friends,  knocked my marriage off the proverbial rails. Once the idea was entertained, I couldn’t keep my mind from it. And it was ALL I thought about. I pulled away from my husband and father of my child. I spent as much time away from him as I could. Hanging out with my crush and my single girlfriends. Frequently, we met out for drinks at pool bars or clubs in Deep Ellum. It gave me a distraction from the LOSSES I faced in my marriage.

The loss of life from losing pregnancy after pregnancy. The loss of a motherhood, that a husband, an emotionally challenged man, could not understand.  An unwillingness to work through it,  but rather just move on to someone else. I was 28yrs old. I’d like to say I really didn’t understand what I was doing, but rather, just imitated what I knew from my life experience. I’d LIKE to say that, but truth is, at any age, we know we can do better.

GRANTED, it was not ALL my fault. Yes, he was distant at times. He had stopped visiting my family with me. We had stopped doing things together. He was mesmerized by ESPN sports center which came on TWICE a night. He would take jobs out of town and be gone for a MONTH. I was taking care of a baby all by myself. I wasn’t happy. I was lonely. WHY, if I’m doing it all anyway, should I even bother? So I didn’t.

My marriage slipped through my fingers. The immediate bitterness and pain was enormous. What made it worse, I didn’t even want to TRY counseling. He was upset (understandably). I was defiant. I told myself I was doing him a favor. That he deserved someone that truly *loved* him. Man– what a crock. I destroyed a perfectly good marriage that could EASILY have been fixed. I ripped a baby’s father out of her life, and his, because I didn’t want to *work it out*. Instead, I chose to have fun with my new guy and my fun single friends.

Fun I had all right, barhopping, and carrying on when I didn’t have my daughter. I went to New Orleans with my crush. We hung out, drank, danced and clubbed. It was awesome. I was with who I wanted and it was a dream come true. In the long run? It was so NOT worth it.

He never committed. He couldn’t commit. Not to me anyway. I was great. I was a challenge. I wasn’t anything *serious*. How could I be? Didn’t I cheat on my marriage with him? Didn’t that make me untrustworthy from the get go?

He moved to Boise, Idaho the next year. I saw him one other time when I drove ALL the way to San Antonio while he was there on business. I keep in touch long enough to know he did eventually marry. I think he has two kids now. Point is, he never had my best interests at heart. If he did, he would have not pursued me either, out of respect for my marriage. Period.

In the meantime, I partied and partied and partied and partied and partied –it’s no wonder I didn’t die driving drunk thank you God– and partied and partied until, I met my 2nd husband in a bar Feb. 9 ,2001. I was 30yrs old.

He pretty much took possession of me right away. I was too nice to realize it. I was waaay too nice to catch all the red flags. He pretty much moved in right away. *why did I let him around my child? wasn’t he a stranger?* Needless to say, my judgment was on ice in a cooler of beer, and certainly not in my head. He told me the day after I met him, that he just got out of prison, not jail, PRISON. I thought he deserved a clean slate.

We had unbelievable chemistry. He spent every moment with me. His control was showering with me affection, and playing on my sympathies. He told me about his rough childhood. I felt bad for him. I just wanted to hold him and make his life better. I wanted to fix him. *I just knew I could*  He told me I was beautiful every single day.

We married one year later on our anniversary meet date, Feb. 9, 2002.  I felt out of this world, most of the time, until he had a bad day, which happened more and more because honestly? Bad luck followed him around. His attitude attracted many adversities.  I became distanced from my family. He wasn’t all that wonderful to them. He began to rage. We started using “recreational drugs” on the weekends. For him, I know it was to numb his pain inside. It didn’t work, he raged more.

But on rare days, when all was right in his world, that wonderfulness consumed me, and I lived for those days; those moments. I had to answer for everything. The wrong answer I was punished. This made me very careful about what I did and said. I never wanted him to preceive me as having a roving eye. I did not want to look or entertain ANY kind of other man idea. I learned that lesson already. But it didn’t matter, I was always under the microscope. One wrong move or decision that wasn’t up to his standard and he went OFF.

Life for me was a roller coaster. Constantly. I did everything I could to keep the peace. I kowtowed. I pleaded. I prayed for relief. I basically did everything I should have done in the first marriage but nothing worked. He was just adverse to being happy, helpless to help himself, and paranoid as all get out. Not to mention, so many other things that I just couldn’t FIX.

The drugs really affected our emotions. He could, after a few days on speed, go completely out of his mind. I was accused of cheating, taking trips with clients, bugging the house, and recording everything he said. He insisted I had two hard drives on my computer and would switch between the two while he walked up to hide my online “chats” with who knows who.

He broke that computer too many times to count, presumably, trying to find the hidden hard drive that didn’t exist. I was working from home.  I was so lucky I didn’t lose my job, which was the only means we had to live on. He was usually out of work or making very little money. Sleeping on the couch most of the day,  waking up long enough to turn the TV on loud, while I was talking to clients. I burned inside with the shame of it. The utter disrespect.

However, I didn’t want to be divorced again. I was determined NOT to repeat my first mistake. But I won’t lie, it was HELL.

One time, during an accusation, he knocked over a coffee table in front me, almost sending a splinter of wood through my eye. Another time, he was so angry he drove, recklessly, down a busy street screaming at me while I held my breath and waited for the crash that would probably kill me and leave my child motherless. It was the scariest and most hurtful time of my life. It was the DARKEST time of my life.

There were a few rays of light, that, were his good days. They were few and far between. He became more and more tortured inside. He constantly cycled; from begging me not leave him, to pushing me away, to being paranoid of his closure, to promising the world. I was dying. From the inside out. I thought I was crazy.

Crazy to live this way. Crazy NOT to leave. This new life affected my child too. My daughter turned ADHD. I would learn, later, that is a symptom of anxiety in children that go through a life change, like marriage, and moving to the other side of town. I thank GOD her Dad was there for her. He moved close to us. It saved her I just know it. She had some normalcy.

I did try to leave him. After a fierce blow up, I packed my car and my dog and I left. My daughter moved to her Dad’s. I actually moved in with my first husband’s mother and brother. That’s right, I moved in with my ex-mother-in-law. I was so grateful for her. She took me, and my black lab, Salem into her small house. I had no place else to go.

My second husbands mom had given us her house for our wedding present. She decided to sell it the day I left. She had never really given this house to us after all. At that point, in 2004, I knew my life was completely changed. I went from having my own place, all my bills paid off, money saved to marrying him and losing it all. As with anyone whose life is upside down,  I sought GOD and guidance.

I found it in The Bible and The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. I found it in my Uncle Bub, we had long talks nightly. His wife, of over twenty years, had left him. It careened his life a different direction. He didn’t take care for himself and lost his left leg and most of his right toes, to diabetes. He was in wheelchair for life. What happened to him, made me think twice about leaving my husband. I could see his pain and his heartache. It tore me up.

I, finally, talked to my second husband again after a month. I still loved him. He swore he would be better, change, get counseling, etc. I believed him (again). The Bible said to honor your husband, to love him, and to to not get a divorce. I truly thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in God. I would do the “biblical” thing and abide by what The Bible said. I would submit to my husband and stand by his side til death.

For two more years, things did not change. The cycle continued, worse now, because he barely slept. He raged MORE. He began doing badly at work. I suspected he was doing drugs again but could never prove it. Maybe he was just bi-polar, a disorder I knew nothing about. By this time, we had a bought a house (my dream home). I was deeply in debt. For the first time in our marriage, I REQUIRED him to contribute to our living.

He never paid a thing before, but I could not pay a house payment, two car payments, all the utilities,  and raise a daughter. I needed him to financially survive, but he continued to bring home about $200.00 a week, which only paid for his GAS and food. He continued to do badly at work. It was financially devastating, the hardest time of my life. I loved my house and didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want to move my daughter (again). I wanted him to get counseling, to get help, to find God even, to banish the demons that tormented him and made him sick. We tried a therapist. He made fun of him and disregarded him as a quack. We visited a Church. He squirmed in his seat, awkward, uncomfortable and never went back again.

Finally, I hit my breaking point. I came home on Monday night after volunteering, at Cook Childrens, in the NICU; my God place. I had my Cooks shirt on and my volunteer badge as I entered the kitchen. He looked me up and down, then hatefully barked, “What’s that red mark on your neck?” I answered warily,  “I don’t know”. I was exhausted from his constant dictate. Honestly? I have reddish skin. I scratch and get a mark but the way he looked at me, was like I did something BAD. It FLOORED me. My nephew DIED in that unit. Did he really think I would use it as an alibi? A cover story, while I went off and had an affair. SERIOUSLY? Do people really do that? And if so, HOW? The malice in his eyes struck me to the deepest part of who I was.

I was done.

It took me months to get out. I had no where to go and no money. I had no nearby relatives to stay with. I prayed and prayed and prayed. My heart wrenched over leaving my home; the one I paid every house payment on. In the end, it wasn’t worth the pain and the misery to be there. Each day, answers to my prayers were revealed in solutions, doorways , paths, directions, LIGHTS, oh the glorious, lights of hope and strength and a future BRIGHT not dark.

The day I moved, seventeen, dear friends showed up with trucks and trailers to move me, and my daughter, out of a four bedroom house in two hours. Praise God. It would not have been possible without their help. The most amazing thing was, I didn’t have friends married to him. He had alienated me, from them all, the last six years.

Strangest of all, it snowed in Texas that April. It wasn’t even a normal Texas snow, barely visible, with a flake here or there. It was actual SNOW. I can still see it, like a dream, floating down; sometimes slow, sometimes fast. HUGE white flakes of fluff, rarely EVER seen, particularly in April. It was astounding. To me, it was a sign from God. He was saying “it’s what I want for you”. He was saying –my struggles were over. The Angels were shaking their wings, as an ending turned to a beginning.

Jeremiah 29:11
“For I know the plans I have for you, ” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give hope and a future.”

Truly, my life renewed on that snowy day in April. I was healed of the verbal, and mental abuse –suffered six long years. I was cleansed of my guilt, co-dependency, and my undeserving nature. I was given in it’s place, goodness, gladness, heartfelt JOY, and LOVE. Oh the wonderful LOVE I found. Love from a savior that WILL pick you up at your lowest point and give you NEW life. A savior that is always there, whether you believe in him or not. A savior that doesn’t just give you any life, but a life he CHOSE for you. One of peace and worthiness in his amazing grace. I found in myself, a life deserving and forgiven.

I now understand why abused women stay with their abusers. I now understand how hard it is to fight drug addiction. I now understand so many things, God wanted me to know. Needed me to know.

It’s been over two years since that last April. Today, my heart is full. My soul is at peace. I am truly blessed with ALL that life has to offer. I lost two marriages, but gained two lives, myself and my daughters. We are free. We are saved.

1 Timothy 6:19
Take hold of the life that is truly life.

May you always know true love………………………and true life.
God doesn’t want you to hurt.

If you are in an abusive marriage, seek help. If you are not abused, maybe just not happy in your marriage, know that it can change. Ask God into it. Let him perform the miracle of healing and restoring. Anything is possible, but not if you give up.

Believe and take hold.