I was born in Los Angeles, California. My father was an alcoholic and a womaniser who was married four times before I reached 18 years of age. My real mother left me when I was about five years old, and I never saw her again.
Every time my dad would divorce, he would put me into foster care, only to pull me out when he would remarry. Subsequently, I was moved from foster home to foster home. I started using drugs when I was 13. I believe that’s when I finally realised that I hated myself.
Runaway
Up until this time, I had been able to ignore my feelings of worthlessness and block out my rejection and abandonment issues. But this increasing awareness only led me to run away from home when I was 15. I lived on the streets until I was arrested. And this began my life with the law.
I ended up at Eastlake Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles. I was definitely the minority there and a hot target for the ethnic groups because I was a white girl with long blonde hair. Those were the days when they didn’t separate criminals according to the severity of their crimes: murderers, thieves, and street gangsters were mixed with those who had only run away from home. I gained a whole new understanding of hatred, racial tension, gangs, and fear. I was sent back to that Juvenile Hall many times over the next few years.
