I never remember my mother holding me, kissing me, tucking me into bed. I don’t know what her skin felt like. Her love seemed conditional. To be in the same room, without getting yelled at, you had to be doing something for her.

I ended up getting into the drug scene because I couldn’t measure up to the crimes that my family, up to their standards. I fell short into street crimes and drugs. I tried to compensate for everything with the drugs.

I was gang raped to get into gangs. I was at points, sold into human trafficking where I suffered tremendous abuse. I was beaten at one point, they knocked out all my teeth, my jaw was broken. You become numb to it. You think that they care about you.

I didn’t understand how to be a mom. My youngest daughter was born a pound and a half, addicted to methamphetamines. I was six and a half months pregnant when I had her. That was pretty traumatic. I didn’t bond with my children. I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how to let them know that I loved them. It was a very difficult time of being a mom. I wasn’t good at it.

I was so afraid.

I was pretty young when I was in an abusive relationship. I finally got the strength to file an emergency protection order. I was living somewhat of a normal life. I was in emergency medical technician school and my daughter was very young. He violated the restraining order and when he came into my house, I shot and killed my husband. I received justifiable homicide. But is anything ever justified? To actually take someone’s life, that never leaves you. He was someone’s brother, someone’s son, regardless of what he had done. But I was so afraid. To be pushed to that limit… it’s hard to tell people what you feel, the fear, in that moment.

My daughter saw a lot in her life, through me, a lot of drug activity, a lot of gang activity. She was 5-years-old the first time I went to prison. Trying to teach a child her ABCs through prison letters… I’d make dot-to-dots and send them to her and she’d send them back.