My hope is that this book will help others in the world suffering from the disease of addiction. I spent years upon years struggling with drugs and alcohol and finally was led out by the ever-loving grace of God and a twelve step recovery program. As you read through this book you will despise the person I became in my active addiction, and I hope that you see the depths we can go to as addicts. But there is a happy ending to this horrific story so I pray you will receive a message of hope and understand it is not the person you should despise, but the disease. I know God saved me so that I can tell this story to everyone.
Gutters & Roses
By Tim WeberAUTHORHOUSE
Copyright © 2008 Tim Weber
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4389-2779-4 Contents
Forward by George Butler (Carroll County States Attorney's Drug Investigator).....................1Poems.............................................................................................5Part One What it was like........................................................................7The Mom I Barely Knew.............................................................................9The Dad I Feared..................................................................................12You're Not My Mom!................................................................................15The Addiction Begins..............................................................................16The Move to Centennial High School................................................................20My Dreams and Aspirations Destroyed...............................................................23DWI...............................................................................................26My College Career.................................................................................27The Needle and the Spoon..........................................................................29Fatherhood Begins.................................................................................30Megan & Michael...................................................................................32The Flower Business...............................................................................34The First of Many Rehabs..........................................................................35Heroin............................................................................................38Kentucky..........................................................................................43Texas Tornado.....................................................................................48The Original Candy Arrangement....................................................................49Suicide Attempt...................................................................................52The Ranch.........................................................................................54You Have the Right to Remain Silent...............................................................55Drug Motels.......................................................................................57The Ranch (Round Two).............................................................................61The Dating Service................................................................................64Code Blue Overdose................................................................................65The Bottom Starts.................................................................................67Why Toby and Not Me?..............................................................................70My Guardian Angel.................................................................................73Part Two What Happened to Change Me..............................................................81The Look that Changed My Life.....................................................................83November 8th, 2003................................................................................86Part 3 What it is like today.....................................................................89Cattails Country Florist..........................................................................91Will You Marry Me, Again?.........................................................................93Guardian Angel....................................................................................94Super Bowl XLI....................................................................................96God, Meetings, Service and Family.................................................................99Acknowledgments...................................................................................101
Chapter One
Part One What it was like
The Mom I Barely Knew
It was December 6, 1976, about 8:30 in the morning. I was eleven at the time and most definitely a mama's boy. I walked into my room where my mother was sleeping. She had slept in my bed because my dad and she were fighting the night before. The night of the fight was just like many before; my dad was screaming and yelling at Mom, to this day I still don't know what it was about. I just know it happened a lot. Anyway, as I was going through my sock drawer I noticed my brother Pat sitting on the bed next to my mom. He looked at me and said, "Mom's not breathing."
I stared at him in disbelief. He screamed, "Go get Dad!"
I ran to my dad's room and banged on the door and in a panic screamed, "Mom is dead!"
He flew out of the shower dripping wet and ran to my room and shook her and shook her! He then picked up the phone and called 911. "I need an ambulance, at ..." I do remember that he could not even remember our address; he was most definitely in shock. The next few minutes I really don't remember, I just know I was told to leave the room and go to the living room; minutes later there was an ambulance at our door and EMTs rushing back to my room.
I must have been in a trance. I remember this part like it was yesterday. I sat in my dad's recliner with my dog Oreo. Dogs are smart and even he knew I needed him in my lap just looking up at me and licking my face; in his own way he was taking care of me. I just watched all the activity in my house. I do not remember shedding one tear at that time. We loaded up and went to the Picayune Memorial Hospital, as at the time we were living in Picayune, Mississippi. I remember sitting in the waiting room and wondering what in the world was going on. Then a grim-faced doctor came out and said, "She is gone, I am sorry, sir." I think he said she was dead on arrival.
I watched my Dad and Pat closely and don't really remember any of us crying. I could be wrong, but as I recall it that is the way it was. I guess we were all in shock.
My brother Mike was off at college so we had to drive to his school and break the news to him. I remember walking down the corridor to my brother's dorm room; I was a few steps behind Pat and, he behind Dad. All I remember was the look on Mike's face. He knew something was wrong, why else would we all be there in the middle of the week? I didn't hear what Dad said. I just saw Mike collapse in Dads' arms and start sobbing. That was the first I remember crying about my mom's death at all, it was like, ok, Mike is, so I can too. I don't know where that came from, but that was how I felt. Mike was my idol.
So we all got in the car and drove back home. I remember thinking all the way back home, what am I going to do? Just last night I took my mom a glass of water and she told me she loved me and I said I love you too. And now she is dead! How could this happen? I was ten years old and just lost my one and only emotional caretaker, my mom! I was lost, scared and felt all alone. The funeral was at a big church. I don't recall the name. I remember my mom had really gotten into church months before she died. Looking back now it gives me a good feeling to know she was a Christian. I only recall three things about the funeral. There were a lot of people I did not know, my Dad had one tear roll down his face and was gritting his teeth as to hold back any emotion. It was never verbally told to me but this is when I must have learned to show no emotion (unless of course it was rage, which I learned very well). It was basically not allowed in my family. Lastly, my dad set me, Pat and Mike on the bed at our house after the funeral and said, "Well, boys, it is just going to be us from now on."
The Dad I Feared
Now I must go back to the few years I had with my mom and dad together. Let's just say it was not too good from what I remember. I was very young and I know my mom was sick with arthritis. My dad was a very scary man as I recollect it. I remember countless nights of screaming and yelling coming from the living room and I would cower down in-between my two brothers shaking and crying. My oldest brother Mike would always comfort me and say everything would be ok. But as a scared little boy all I knew was my mom was in trouble out in the other room. And when was it going to start on one of us!
My dad was an excellent provider and took very good care of us financially. So this part of my story is hard to write for the fear of the hurt it could cause him. However, I feel it needs to be told to get the true understanding of what my life was like through my eyes as a child. I love him dearly and our relationship today is one that includes friendship and a normal father son relationship, which I will get into in the later chapters.
So here goes. Point blank I was scared to death of my dad. I watched him beat my brother for using drugs. The night it happened I remember sitting on our couch in Houston watching television when Mike came in from somewhere. He sat down for a minute or two. He was drinking a Dr. Pepper (he was always drinking Dr. Pepper). He then said good night to us all and went back to his room. Well, minutes later my dad followed him and minutes after that he called me, Mom and Pat to come watch him beat the living heck out of Mike. And he looked at us and said, "This is what is going to happen to any of you who use drugs! "I remember my mom trying to jump on him and stop him but he just pushed her away. I can't tell you what was going on in my mind at that time, but even as I write it now I can see it in color! I was probably six or seven at the time.
There was another time when my brother Pat was caught smoking and my dad made him eat a whole pack of cigarettes! The sad thing is they weren't Pat's, they belonged to neighbor friends. Pat did smoke, but these just weren't his. And then we all went out to eat at a pizza place right after that like nothing happened.
My dad demanded respect! It was a must in our house to say "yes sir" or "no sir." And trust me you did not want to lie to him or even come close to disrespecting him. One time I had some friends over, from next door and we were playing late one night and probably being too loud in the living room and my dad was in one of those moods. Well, he came out and ripped me up by my underwear and it scared me so much I wet myself. I was maybe five or six years old and I still remember that night. I can't tell you the embarrassment I felt in front of those two friends.
I can say this: my father loves his three boys. And he did the best he could do. After the death of my mom things got better. He was still tough and led the house with an iron fist. But he was, I am sure, scared and wondering how in the world he was going to raise three boys on his own. But he did the best he could at the time and times were different back then. He thought if we feared him we would respect him and do well. And he has all the respect in the world from me! He has taught me some of my most valuable assets today, honesty and one heck of a work ethic. I don't think I have ever heard my father tell a lie.
You're Not My Mom!
Not too long after Mom died Arlene came into my life. She was my dad's girlfriend and let me tell you she paid for it. I was the youngest of the three boys and I gave her the most grief. She was not my mom and I let her know every day that she was no part of our family. After all, six months earlier my dad told me it was going to be just us four now. And that didn't include some woman trying to interfere with that. She did not want to take the place of my mom, but being dad's girlfriend and eventually moving in with us she had no choice. Whether she wanted it or not, in my eyes she was an evil step-mother! I hated her with a passion.
Here it is almost three decades later and I could not be more proud to call Arlene my mom. How this woman stuck it out with my dad and the three of us and our addictions still amazes me. She is one of the most precious people in my life today. And I love her dearly and value her not only as a mother but as a very good friend.
The Addiction Begins
This is where my story leads to a point in my life where I learned to not feel and to stuff every emotion humanly possible.
I can tell you I don't remember my first drink, but I remember my first drunk like it was yesterday.
I know there were times before eight years old when I had snuck sips of beer and wine at family functions or my father's company picnics. But it meant nothing, because I never drank enough to feel any affects of the alcohol. But that all changed the summer before the ninth grade when I was invited to a party with some older kids who were already in high school. Well, they had a lot of beer and weed. I don't remember smoking any weed, but I sure remember the beer. And I thought I had found the answer I had been looking for all of my short life. It made me everything I thought I wanted to be, and most importantly everything I thought everyone else wanted me to be. I was no longer shy, timid, and afraid and I flat out thought I could do anything that night. I was accepted into a new class of people, the older cool people. Little did I know that first feeling of being drunk would eventually lead me down a road of destruction to living under bridges and abandoned houses.
I remember waking up the next morning and my head was spinning I threw up, and felt like my head had been hit by a Mack truck. However; I could not wait to do it again as soon as possible! And I did it many times after that with the same effect of pleasure and then pain. This continued all summer long and then school started and I attended my first High School, Wilde Lake High School. I was playing football and meeting new people and life was good. So I thought. One day a guy was in school and had some Quaaludes, I think his dad was a doctor or something. Well, I bought a couple and instead of waiting till after school I took mine right away.
Thirty minutes later I was out of control. I couldn't walk, and needless to say I found myself in the office and waiting for someone to pick me up. I don't remember much about the ride home but I do remember waking up and my dad standing over me. As you can imagine I was pretty scared of what he was going to do. Well, there was no butt kicking. It was worse. He looked me square in the eyes and said, "Don't you know that is how your mother died, from an overdose of pills?"
This sent me into a whirlwind of emotions from that point on about everything. I convinced myself that Mom had killed herself because she couldn't take my dad or us three boys anymore. Years later he told me it was congestive heart failure. So here I am thirteen already suspended from school and we hadn't even had our first football game. And it does not end there with Wilde Lake High. Two weeks after returning to school someone had some purple micro dots (LSD) and once again I got some and couldn't wait till after school to do mine. We were having testing at school that day, the one where you fill in the multiple choice dots. The acid kicked in and I was once again out of control. I could not stop laughing in class so I was sent to the office. They could not tell what I had done because other than my pupils being quite dilated I seemed fine, just a little too happy. They sent me to the nurse's station to either wait for the police to come or my dad; to be honest, at that time I would have preferred it be the police!
About an hour went by and a couple of friends walked by the nurse's station and looked in on me when the nurse had walked out for a minute. They both said, "Dude, you better get out of here, just leave and tell them you don't know what was wrong with you and come back tomorrow."
I think they thought that if they found out I was on acid I would tell who I got it from or get in a lot of trouble. Probably tell. In any case, I scooted out of school unnoticed and walked around the lake for hours hoping the drugs would wear off and I could go home and no one would know. Wrong! I walked through the doors of my house and Dad and Arlene were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. But to my surprise I didn't get my head caved in. It was just a look of disappointment and shame. A look I grew to know very well in the years to come. We talked for hours and to be honest I don't know what was said. I was still tripping on the acid and their faces were melting right before my eyes. I am not trying to glamorize that in any way, it is just the truth.
The next day I got the news I was expelled from school and that meant no going back to Wilde Lake High School. Before I crawled out of bed that morning I was listening to 98 Rock and heard the breaking news: "John Lennon has been shot and killed outside his apartment." I don't know why I remember this, it is not like I was a big Beatles fan. I just remember the morning and thinking that news didn't seem nearly as bad as mine. I was already a self-centered addict.
The Move to Centennial High School
Somehow my dad got me enrolled in another high school. We happened to have just moved into another school district, Centennial High School. I was not happy about this to say the least. All my friends were at Wilde Lake and now I have to go to another school with this big stigma attached to me. I was the kid who flipped out on drugs at Wilde Lake. Well, it didn't take me long to get a new stigma at school: "The Boxer," the kid who would fight anyone.
When I was 12 years my brother Mike took me to the movie "Rocky." I fell in love with boxing. I started in Slidell, Louisiana, where we moved a few months after my mom died. I started out at 95 pounds and was in a lot of fights in the Slidell and New Orleans area. When we moved to Maryland I had gotten out of it for a year or so until I found a boxing club in Catonsville. I had a few fights around here and a few write-ups in the paper and was known as Tim the Boxer, or Tex's little brother. That was my middle brother Pat's nickname since we were originally from Texas, where he was very well known for his fights in school and at parties around the area. The funny thing is we had this reputation and when people would see us they would say those are the tough guys, they can't weigh 140 pounds soaking wet!
OK, back to school. I guess I am saying I could use my fists very well and was always more than a little eager to show this skill off at school. I was in school for maybe one week and someone said something to me they shouldn't have. So out the wood shop door we went and I unloaded some combinations on him and he bled severely from the nose. I found out later he was a diabetic and bled easily. Believe it or not I felt bad about this for many years. But hey, he started it and he raised his hands and to me that meant hit or be hit. Anyway, it was the talk of the school and there you go. I had a new reputation I was proud of. All the time deep down inside I was scared of my own shadow. I just figured if I could take a punch from my dad and not fight back, if I can fight back no one could beat me up. Let me tell you, however, that I found out on a number of occasions that philosophy was off . I got my share of the worst in many fights through the years.
Well, the very next day the administrator of the school got wind of this and there I was in an office in trouble again. Thank God this man had us shake hands and promise not to take it any further. I agreed and I thought that was that. Then he asked the other kid to go back to class and he wanted to talk to me alone. These are the words I remember.
"I understand you are a pretty good boxer, so let me ask you this: why did you feel the need to beat the heck out of someone who couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper bag?"
In my defense at this time I was fighting in the 139 pound weight class and was maybe 5'8", this guy was at least 6', ok, maybe he was skinny but he ran his mouth to the wrong new kid. I didn't say all that but I was thinking it.
"Mr. Weber, here is your warning. You get in another fight, you will be expelled from my school too. I don't care if someone calls you every name in the book, or raises their hand to you. You come to me and I will deal with it."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Gutters & Rosesby Tim Weber Copyright © 2008 by Tim Weber. Excerpted by permission.
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