The Beginning........
This blog will be as much a journal as an account of my recovery and testimony to GOD. It will probably bring up some things from my past that will hurt some feelings but the only way to get over a lot of things is to "get it off your chest" as the saying goes. So I want to apologize up front for any hurt feelings, especially to you Dad. If I want to get sober this, I feel, is the only way.
My name is Robbie Woods, I'm a recovering alcoholic/cocaine addict. I'm going to start my story by telling you about my childhood.
As far back as I can remember is 1976 when I stood on the stairwell of the apt complex where we lived (the projects)I watched as my father rode away on his motorcycle with a woman who was not my mother. I was five years old at that time and my young life was just getting started. I didn't realize then that my life had a not so common start. We moved a lot over the next three years. Mostly to get away from "your dad and his drinkin", mom would say. We finally moved to a small town called Ivydale. We lived there for the next seven and a half years.We heated with wood and coal and had a garden every summer.
My mother was disabled with a most severe case of asthma, bloodpressure and weight problems too. We lived on a small welfare check and foodstamps for most of that period of my life. We (three boys) stayed with other family members some so my mother could rest once in a while. My Dad came around on occasion, sometimes drunk, sometimes not, but he did drink alot. He had a good job setting poles for the phone company. There were no child support laws back then so we did what we could and my mother knew how to stretch a penny so we did get by. We were poor but we had each other and that meant alot to me, to us, to her. When we did see my dad, he would usually only take my older brother on weekends, not always, but mostly. That part always hurt, "why can't I go?" I would ask my mom. She would always say what I needed to hear. She made it clear that she loved us all the same no matter what. I did get to go a few times but it really left a scar on that part of my life. I could not figure out why my dad didn't want me to go with him too. I was told I talked to much, or I was to fidgety. It always made me feel as though he didn't want me. That also spurned a hatred that was later turned to unfounded rage towards my older brother. It wasn't his fault but, I thought my dad didn't like me because of him..... kids
Don't get me wrong though, my brother is a model father to his five awesome kids and a beautiful wife to boot. Way to go there junior....lol...(yep FIVE kids)....and all by the same woman too who, by the way is a great mother and wife. They have a beautiful brick home nestled in the mountains of WV on the banks of the Elk River near where we grew up. Yep, he's a great man whom I love and respect very much. I couldn't ask for a better big brother.
By the time I was ten I was used to seeing my mom in and out of the hospitals for asthma and other health problems. When that happened we usually stayed with my aunt Mary Ann until mom was released to go home. During my junior high years I started to become very unstable. I left home several times to get away. Then when I was fifteen the unthinkable happened, mom died. It was December 17th and was almost time for Christmas break. At that point in my life I was in the office constantly for stupid mischeif, talking in class,paperwad fights,foodfights,etc. Nothing really bad anyway. So when the girl from the office came to my choir rehersal I didn't think much of it. When I got to the office I saw my father, along with my Aunt Mary Ann and her two oldest girls. That's when I got this weird feeling in my gut but I played it cool, like any self respecting teenager would."Hey Dad, what're ya'll doin here?" I asked.(at least I think I did)The next five seconds will be engraved in my memory forever. Mary Ann looked at me and with tears in her eyes said,"It's your mommy, her heart stopped, she didn't make it." I looked at my dad and asked,"my mom?" To which he replied,"Yeah son." After that we picked up my older brother from the dentist office and I just sat there in a crying stupor wanting to just wake up from this nightmare, but it wasn't a nightmare at all, it was the cold, hard truth.Next we proceeded to make the twelve mile ride to my little brothers elementary school. Her baby boy. When they told my younger brother I wanted to just make it all better for him but I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to run and never stop. I couldn't bear to listen to that little boy scream so I ran to the bathroom and hid. I couldn't face him. And I never did tell him I was sorry for walking away at such a tender moment.
And that is the beginning.............
That was for me, the beginning..............
My name is Robbie Woods, I'm a recovering alcoholic/cocaine addict. I'm going to start my story by telling you about my childhood.
As far back as I can remember is 1976 when I stood on the stairwell of the apt complex where we lived (the projects)I watched as my father rode away on his motorcycle with a woman who was not my mother. I was five years old at that time and my young life was just getting started. I didn't realize then that my life had a not so common start. We moved a lot over the next three years. Mostly to get away from "your dad and his drinkin", mom would say. We finally moved to a small town called Ivydale. We lived there for the next seven and a half years.We heated with wood and coal and had a garden every summer.
My mother was disabled with a most severe case of asthma, bloodpressure and weight problems too. We lived on a small welfare check and foodstamps for most of that period of my life. We (three boys) stayed with other family members some so my mother could rest once in a while. My Dad came around on occasion, sometimes drunk, sometimes not, but he did drink alot. He had a good job setting poles for the phone company. There were no child support laws back then so we did what we could and my mother knew how to stretch a penny so we did get by. We were poor but we had each other and that meant alot to me, to us, to her. When we did see my dad, he would usually only take my older brother on weekends, not always, but mostly. That part always hurt, "why can't I go?" I would ask my mom. She would always say what I needed to hear. She made it clear that she loved us all the same no matter what. I did get to go a few times but it really left a scar on that part of my life. I could not figure out why my dad didn't want me to go with him too. I was told I talked to much, or I was to fidgety. It always made me feel as though he didn't want me. That also spurned a hatred that was later turned to unfounded rage towards my older brother. It wasn't his fault but, I thought my dad didn't like me because of him..... kids
Don't get me wrong though, my brother is a model father to his five awesome kids and a beautiful wife to boot. Way to go there junior....lol...(yep FIVE kids)....and all by the same woman too who, by the way is a great mother and wife. They have a beautiful brick home nestled in the mountains of WV on the banks of the Elk River near where we grew up. Yep, he's a great man whom I love and respect very much. I couldn't ask for a better big brother.
By the time I was ten I was used to seeing my mom in and out of the hospitals for asthma and other health problems. When that happened we usually stayed with my aunt Mary Ann until mom was released to go home. During my junior high years I started to become very unstable. I left home several times to get away. Then when I was fifteen the unthinkable happened, mom died. It was December 17th and was almost time for Christmas break. At that point in my life I was in the office constantly for stupid mischeif, talking in class,paperwad fights,foodfights,etc. Nothing really bad anyway. So when the girl from the office came to my choir rehersal I didn't think much of it. When I got to the office I saw my father, along with my Aunt Mary Ann and her two oldest girls. That's when I got this weird feeling in my gut but I played it cool, like any self respecting teenager would."Hey Dad, what're ya'll doin here?" I asked.(at least I think I did)The next five seconds will be engraved in my memory forever. Mary Ann looked at me and with tears in her eyes said,"It's your mommy, her heart stopped, she didn't make it." I looked at my dad and asked,"my mom?" To which he replied,"Yeah son." After that we picked up my older brother from the dentist office and I just sat there in a crying stupor wanting to just wake up from this nightmare, but it wasn't a nightmare at all, it was the cold, hard truth.Next we proceeded to make the twelve mile ride to my little brothers elementary school. Her baby boy. When they told my younger brother I wanted to just make it all better for him but I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to run and never stop. I couldn't bear to listen to that little boy scream so I ran to the bathroom and hid. I couldn't face him. And I never did tell him I was sorry for walking away at such a tender moment.
And that is the beginning.............
That was for me, the beginning..............
posted by Robbie at 2:10 AM
3 Comments:
I'm a friend of JD's and he's mentioned you several times. It's great to get things off your chest as that's a way of healing. Keep on healing and staying strong.
Way to go bud. Keep up with this blog so we can all know how God is working in your life!
Dear brother,
My prayers are with you in your recovery. This is a weak medium to pass along the love and grief I feel towards you right now. The LORD is good, his steadfast love endures forever. Please stop by fumblingtowardseternity.blogspot.com sometime. I haven't been clean fo very long, but I'm hanging in.
in HIS love,
Nick
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