My bio mom died when I was only 12. Not cancer related. She died of a falopian tube pregnancy (or ectopic). It was a complete accident. She didn't even know she was pregnant, but suspected it. I was so little. I remember her looking in the mirror at her butt and feeling her tummy and she said, "God! I look pregnant! I am so fat!" And then about a week later, she died.

When my mom died (her name was Gloria), it was a total shock to my whole family. I had just started the 7th grade at the junior high (JB) that shaped my adolescence. I made great friends there and they nurtured my need for some type of structure. My family was a mess.

I lived with my mom's sister for a while (aunt), but that was so hard because they had their own kids that were small, and I was separated from my brothers (2 little ones only 2 and 5 when mom died). They went with their dad and a new girl. 

I tried to be a good girl. It didn't work out for me. Everyone was grieving and no one really asked me how I was doing. I grew up, partially in my friends' homes, and in foster care. Every time something bad would happen at the foster home (like a plastic knife fight in the bathroom between two other girls), I would run away and stay with my friends. Mainly I would go to Rosi's house, or Mica, Laura B., Emily's...I would just couch surf it until I got caught or had to report back to my social worker(SW). This was 8th and 9th grade.

In 10th grade, I had a stint stay at the infamous MacLaren Hall, which has since been shut down by the State of California for its abusive practices on children. I can tell you some awful stories that went on in there. This was a high security juvenile facility for children between 1 and 17.5 years old. They had a crack baby ward, and pregnant girls (that had committed crimes) ward.

I had never committed a crime. I was there because I kept running away form foster care group homes and I was "uncontrollable" according to my SW. For a while, I wen to live with my aunt again. She was pregnant with her third child. She was angry at me for something and she began to hit me, and we had a sort of wrestling match...she told my SW that I kicked he in the stomach (which may have happened, but she also didn't mention that she was hitting me), that was why I was sent to MacLaren Hall (deemed violent because in my record I had "attacked" my pregnant aunt. But as I said before, she was hitting me, which happened all the time).

So...in 11th grade, I had to move with them (aunt and uncle) to Texas. My uncle got a job out there, and I really did not want to go but it was either that, or go live in a foster home and I really could not tell which was worse. I went. And 10 months later I got a ticket on Southwest to come back to LA. I lived with Emily for about a year, and had a whirlwind of a summer with all my crazy and wild friends, which by this time were 10th and 11th graders at J. Marshall High School.