I wanted to put a sign on my forehead saying: “Be Kind To Me – My Son Just Committed Suicide.” I wondered how many people we meet each day who also want to put a sign on their forehead describing the pain in their hearts.    

On July 11, 2007, a coroner called and told me my son, John, had put a shotgun between his legs and used his toes to pull the trigger, blowing his head off. Many years earlier, as a single, unwed mother, I had given him up for adoption, and it had been twelve years since I found him again.

In the years after his birth, I had gone through heavy methamphetamine use and hit rock bottom when I spent time in jail and prison. But life had also been good because I then became the mistress of a wealthy Greek gentleman, businessman, and philanthropist, benefitting not only from his financial generosity but also his emotional wisdom on living life. He made it possible for me to manage an apartment building on one of the most famous corners of the world, Sunset Boulevard, and Crescent Heights. I also began to establish myself in politics and the community of West Hollywood.

After the death of my son, spirituality would enter my world and show me how the pain of early rape and being forced into prostitution had led to my life of addictions. I chose to be independent, overcame my addictions, and not only would I survive, but thrive. Here is how it happened…