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Ladiana Johnson

Country of Birth:

United States

Year of birth: 1989

Places of Residence:


Basic B@#$&

This isn't your average story of rags to riches. Or a boring biography of names and dates and a wack ass list of events. This is my story. I'm not the typical girl. Im Ladiana. You know me. That girl all the bus with the four kids. Kicking screaming and yelling. The one everybody is looking at like she got ten heads. Im the one with that smile on her face that says pardon me, but that look in her eyes that says please say something so i can go the fuck off up in here.Oh and that kid that keeps kicking the back of your seat, that's my son Zion, he's 6. He's my problem child. Diagnosed with ADD and ready to fuck shit up with a cute face silky hair and a grin. Y'all know black and Hispanic kids are cute. But they crazy as hell. Which brings me to the one spilling juice on your nice designer bag. That's Joseph. My last baby. He's only two but he's big as hell. You probably shouldn't pull any snacks out that bag in front of him or we'll never get to the end of this story without a full blown tantrum. That buy is hefty like a sack of potatoes. Now I know what your thinking they look totally different. Zion and Elijah my oldest son who is 7 are Hispanic. They are a result of a bitch ass ninja called my soon to be ex husband Michael. With his psychotic ass, cheating, and beating ass. But that's another chapter. And then there's Ari and Joseph my chocolate babies. Ari is my first born she just turned nine and everything is a big deal. But she's smart and observant. And she always has something to say. She gets that from me. I don't really know who her father is. Maybe it's the milk man??? That was a fogy night in my late teens. And yet shes my rock. God gave me that diamond. Now with Joseph's father Miguel someone should've slapped the shit out me for even thinking of having another child. With another man who I barely knew. But Miguel was a change for me. At least at the time that's what I thought. He was sweet caring. He wanted to live in my home but keep our relationship light if you get my drift. He was and still is a sneaky creep And yet we been together for five years. But it ain't been easy. Ill tell you all about him in a sec.But like I said this ain't your typical story but I'm going to start in the beginning. And please keep up cuz a bitch like me aint got time to slow down.
End chapter 1

A blurr

I don't remember too much about my mother or my early childhood. Everything is a blurr. I do remember my grandmother Essey owned a big blue three story house right across the street from Wainwright Park. That house was perfect. There were carnivals in the park. That house was the full of family all the time. And grandma was always cooking. She was my savior from many ass whoopins. I was her Bug and I could do no wrong. I can't say the same for my twin brother's Ron and Rick and my older sister Goose. They resorted to stuffing their pant with a little extra padding to soften the blow of the belt. And anyone could hand out an ass whoopin. In that neighborhood everyone was your momma. You could get three ass whoopins in one day from three different people!! We were family like that. My sibblings and i had different fathers.They all had the same father except me. That didn't bother me much cuz my dad was always around. My mother and father split when I was about 5. But he always came to see me. He was an ex Boston police officer. He worked at Woolworth and had various other jobs I never asked about. All I knew, was that he loved me and everywhere he went everyone showed him love. Even the kids. He was the kind of guy to give a kid 20 dollars for taking out the trash. And everywhere we went together they showed me mad love because I was his daughter. Free pizza, toys, clothes. You name it I had it. My father made sure he came and visited me every weekend. He always made sure I came home with a big bag of candy and other shit to share with my brother's and sister. Most of the time I split it with my cousin Shanon aka Shaney. She was my best friend. My other half. Where there was Bug there was Shaney. And where Shaney was I was. We spent most of the time with my aunt Roney, Shaney mother. She was always turning up. If she wasn't drinking and partying she was fighting with uncle Kurt. They would drink and fight together. Most of it was funny to us. And they would always get back together. 20 years later. Same shit. I kid you not. They like booby and Whitney I swear. That crazy kinda love.They would bust each other up bad one day and be throwing back 40's laughing the next day. Auntie Roney always babysat me and my siblings for my mom. She would sometimes leave for weeks at a time. It wasn't until I got older that I found out about her addiction to crack cocaine. It got so bad one time that me, Goose, Shaney, and and Shaney sister Shanon left aunt Roney s in the middle of the night to find her. We needed up finding my mom, my aunts, and my uncles at a wild party at my grandma's house a few blocks away. I saw my mother and my aunt Janet across the street. She didn't even look like my mom. She was smelly and her eyes looked like they wanted to pop out of her head. I was so scared i ran in the house to my uncle Curt. Who offered my a swig if his 40. Even at the age of four I knew better. So I declined. I locked myself in my great grandmothers room. It was always quite in there. She never spoke and required round the clock care from grandma. She spent most of the time in her big chair on the porch or closed up in her room watching stories. Normally I would hate to be in that room alone and bored but tonight it was my safe haven. It was after that night I started to have nightmares about my mom. She would always hide in my dreams and then come out of no where and chase me. But she never looked like the big bosom, pecan color warm mom I knew. She was someone else. She always looked the way I saw he that night. Things were never the same after that. My mom hardly came home after that night. About a month later a nice dressed white woman kept coming by asking questions about my mom my siblings and I. But my mom was no where to be found. A few weeks later after several attempts to reach my mom, the white lady showed up again but this time there were police with her. They asked my grandmother who was crying hysterically to step back as they escorted me and my siblings out of the house. Down stairs there was an endless line of black cars and police. I grabbed my sister Gosses hand tight as we walked outside. The white wiman who had been by weeks before put us in the back of one of the black cars. We were confused and crying for our mom. Then out of no where my mom was there. She came running to the car but as she ran to us the police restrained her. We kicked and screamed for our mom as the white lady who I found out later was a social worker for what was known as DSS at the time held us in the car. They wouldn't let us talk to our mom and they didn't explain what was happening. As the car pulled off I wept fiercely looking at my mom out the rear view. It was the last time I would see my mom for years.
End chapter 2