I didn't meet my dad until was like four years old because he was in the service. When he came back, I was living in Philadelphia with my mom. After they got married, he had to go into the service and was in China and all over the world. When he came back, after all the years he served, there was my mom and me. I was there and he hated me. I was in his way; he wanted to be alone with his new wife. From that moment on, for all my childhood and my preteens, he always had an excuse to beat me. He picked on me for every anything. I would walk into the room and he’d slap me. I didn't know why, and I would start crying. My mom would take me back to my room and just say, “just ignore him, just ignore him.” I never knew why he hit me or why he always did it. I kept trying to please him in every way, shape, and form - I never could.
He never gave me a single compliment in my entire life until I worked with the coast guard. He would then say things like, “Oh, you should see my daughter how she handles the boat.” The next compliment he gave me was when he came to a lot of my shows in the desert. He said, “I don't know how you did that show. It was amazing. I'm so proud of you.”
It was a love hate relationship. I loved him and I hated him. And I don't know if he ever knew better. That's why I finally forgave him. He was raised by his father who was like a tough ‘son of a bitch’ guy. My dad had nobody else to look to as a father figure except his own father. That's the only way he knew how to treat me.