Healed

Lacole Robinson

Description

THE BOOK YOU ARE HOLDING IN YOUR HANDS IS NOTHING SHORT OF A TRIUMPH. It is the true account of the struggles, heartbreaks, failures, but ultimate victory of a life salvaged against all odds.

Sujets

• Biography
• Autobiography

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 16 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665574532
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

HEALED
A Memoir
 
 
 
 
LACOLE ROBINSON
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2022 Lacole Robinson. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse  10/25/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7451-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7452-5 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7453-2 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022919891
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
New International Version (NIV) Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Contents
Acknowledgments
 
Around   1997 & 1998
Around   1990
Around   1999
Around   2000
Around   October 2001
Around   June 2001
Around   2002
Around   February 2002
Around   2003 & 2004
Around   2005
Around   2006
Around   December 19, 2006
Around   January 24, 2007
Around   2008
Around   2009
Around   2010
Around   2011
Around   October 3, 2012
Around   August 23, 2013
Around   August 20, 2015
Around   April 3, 2015
Around   June 2015
Around   March 20, 2017
Around   October 17, 2017
Around   January 2018
Around   February 2018
Around   May 22, 2018
Around   June 16, 2018
Around   August 8, 2019
Around   September 2019
Around   November 28, 2019
Acknowledgments
I want to first and foremost thank my heavenly father from above for getting me through all the struggles, trails, and tribulations giving me something to write about. For giving me the strength emotionally during this process it was emotionally draining reliving the past, but therapeutic at the same time. Now I’m healed. I wanna give a special shoutout to my husband for inspiring me to write a book. My sisters for the love and support that was giving. I also want to take the time to thank my editor Teynia Lee from New York and my amazing graphic designer Xavier Comas from Barcelona, Spain. For teaching me so much through this process, and for all the patience they endured with me being a first-time writer not knowing anything about becoming an author. It was tough many thanks too you all. I highly appreciate you! And I want to give myself a pat on the back for believing in myself and completing God’s purpose with still more to come.
Around 1997 & 1998
S outheast San Diego 50 th , Down the block from the infamous car wash owned by the local street hustlers and the aptly named Four Corners of Death located on Imperial and Euclid. Living there was the true definition of poverty and dysfunction.
Honestly, you do not know what you will wake up to when you live in this part of town, with gang members, crack heads, prostitutes, you name it.
Usually, I woke up every morning around 6:00 am to brush my teeth and wash my face. I would try to shower the night before, as I had to dress my two younger sisters, Lakeyna and Latrice, each morning too. I also had to do my doughnut bun, which took forever.
My bun was never popping. My hair was not that long and I would grab it so tight that it would hurt while trying to fit it in a ponytail. But it never went into a fan ponytail, which was popular back then. My homegirls Sa’adha and Aaliyah would rock the mess out of those fan ponytails. They had enough hair to do all the styles. It was what it was, and I worked with what I had. I did what I had to do to make myself look good, at least to my standards.
I thought I was cute, and that is all that mattered. Sometimes, I would get lucky and my cousin Dada would braid my hair in cornrows or style me a ponytail with extensions. Other than that, it was usually the donut bun, and it was not looking good.
I never bothered to wake my mom up in the morning. She was always in a deep coma on the couch, with the television on from the night before, covered by a sheet full of cigarette burns. She usually fell asleep with the cigarette in her hand from taking too many prescription drugs. Codeine and Soma were her favorites and most common choice.
It was a demanding situation. She never helped me get the girls ready for school. All she would do is be grouchy and yell at me for whatever reason, like everything was my fault, and that just made mornings worse. There were times I really wanted to cuss her out, but I knew she would tear me up and I wouldn’t dare fight my mom because I had way too much respect for her. So, for whatever reason, I kept my thoughts to myself.
Instead, I did what I had to do for me and my sisters. Regardless of what my mom was going through, somebody had to do it, since they were too young to take care of themselves. I still thank God that we survived that drama.
I was curious about why my mom and dad didn’t work out. I would ask my mom why she didn’t love my dad the way he said he loved her. She stated that she was with my dad because she was lonely and because he had a job with a nice car and he was funny, but she never really loved him. She was lonely, and that was one of the reasons she would abuse her addiction and why she could never let go of the other things she suffered from as a child.
She was depressed and living in the past. She really needed a pastor or a counselor. I believe counseling could have helped her out of the cycle of poor decisions she made with men. She needed someone to help uplift her spirit and tell her she was important and beautiful, both inside and out. She needed support. But she never got it. She lived in depression, and it was incredibly sad to see her that way. I couldn’t do anything to help her. Though I would always tell her how much I loved her, that was still never good enough.
I always thought my dad and my mom would have made it together if they would have gotten married, did what was right for me, and left the drugs alone. All my mom needed was a good man to love her and treat her right. My dad was capable of that. They were remarkably similar people. They were both good people.
Whenever I saw them together, they were always laughing and would always get along, so why weren’t they together? I wondered. My dad says Mom was the only woman he ever loved, and I believed it. But I don’t think she really gave him a chance. I honestly think she might have been one of the reasons my dad didn’t want to do right, and why he stayed in his heavy addiction. He knew she did not love him the way he desired to be loved.
My dad was desperate for the type of love from a woman that he didn’t receive from his own mother. How he was molested as a young boy by one of his older cousin’s. He once told me that his mother didn’t love him. He was looking for security and trust in a woman, and my mom could not give him either, because she did not know how to. And, well, that was not her fault. She claims all her dad would do was get drunk after work, come home, and beat her and her mother.
My dad’s mother got remarried to her new baby’s father when she moved to Los Angeles, leaving my dad all alone in San Diego with his father and whoever else. Which the situation with his father was strange to me, his father had got remarried to a lady name Sarah that couldn’t stand the sight of my dad.
Anyway, dad said he was so excited when he found out my mom was pregnant and having a girl. He knew I would love him unconditionally, no matter what, and he was right. I really did love my dad with all my heart. You couldn’t tell me nothing wrong about my father, drugs or not.
As a kid, I knew my dad was on drugs. One day, I rode with him to Wrigley’s, which was a grocery store on Euclid and Federal. He was going to buy food for me and my sisters.
Outside the store, we saw one of my neighborhood uncles named Big Pee. He wasn’t really my uncle, but I loved Uncle Pee. He was the man growing up. I was too young to really know what he was doing that day; I just knew it wasn’t right. Anyway, he saw me and my dad, and he asked my dad for money. My dad didn’t have it, so Uncle Pee told me to step out of my dad’s nice white Cadillac and then he threw a brick through the front windshield.
He knew my dad wasn’t going to do anything because he didn’t. Uncle Pee apologized to me and said he didn’t want me to see this, but he had no choice. I started crying. I felt bad for my dad.
I remember going to visit my grandmother, my dad’s mom, when I was about five years old. I went to Los Angeles to see her and her family, my auntie Pansy, and my uncle Lagina, and her husband, big Lagina. I had so much fun that I didn’t want to go home. I remember my auntie doing my hair, dressing me pretty, and painting my nails. My grandmother didn’t want to send me back either, but my mom insisted and got me back. My mom couldn’t stand my grandmother, and that explains why she didn’t like my dad. She would say his mom messed him up.
To this day, there is one thing I question about my visit to Los Angeles. I was too young to understand back then, but if I’m not mistaken, my grandmother lost h