By Darlene Donloe
Contributing Writer
LOS ANGELES — Michelle Perkins, executive director of the Turning Point Alcohol & Drug Education Program in Los Angeles, will tell you without any reservation that she had a hard way to go in her early life.
She endured abuse, grew up with a “horrible” mother who did drugs, fell victim to drugs herself, became homeless, lost custody of her children, and was a revolving-door inmate of the county jail system, going in and out at least “20 times,” as well as in and out of prison three times – sometimes doing 20-month sentences. She is proud to say she hasn’t been incarcerated since 2000.
Perkins admits that she could have just quit on herself, but instead, she pulled herself together and decided to help others who have a shared life experience.
That’s why she founded Turning Point, an organization dedicated to helping adolescents, adults, the homeless population, formerly incarcerated men, women and transitional-aged youth who have been marginalized by addiction, trauma, homelessness and incarceration, to break the cycle of poverty and negative behaviors by providing the resources and tools needed to live productive lives.
“If anyone knows how to help that segment of society, I do,” Perkins said. “I’ve been through all of it.”
Growing up, Perkins didn’t have a close-knit family and didn’t have a loving relationship with her mother.
“My mother did the best she could in the condition she was in,” said Perkins, who is her mother’s firstborn. “I left home at 16. The Department of Children and Family Services took us.”
When she was 12, Perkins said she began experimenting with marijuana and alcohol.
“I experimented a lot,” she said. “I smoked marijuana daily. Peer pressure got me into alcohol and marijuana. Addiction took over when I experienced crack. I just saw people doing it. I wanted to try it. In less than two years, it eventually consumed my life.”
Her addiction, she said, affected her relationships, work and daily life.
“I didn’t have a job,” she said. “When I was younger I didn’t want people to know what it was like at home. I was ashamed.”
Once she turned to drugs, Perkins said the challenge for her was knowing, ‘We’re powerless over drugs and alcohol.”
“I started using ‘heavy drugs’ when I was in my early 20s, up until the time I went to prison for the last time in 1998,” she said. “The drugs sent my life into a tailspin. My addiction was hard and painful. It caused me to lose myself in the cycle of addiction.
“It wasn’t nice. I walked off and left my kids, who were 10, 6 and not even a year old. My boyfriend then took care of the three kids I had by him. He also took in my oldest son.
Once she walked away from her children, Perkins said, it would be 10 years before she saw them again. After decades of a vicious cycle that took her to rock bottom, Perkins decided to turn her life around.
“I had had enough,” she said. “I didn’t want to live that kind of life anymore. I made up my mind that I wanted something different for my life. Once I made that decision, there was no turning back for me.”
The last time she went to prison at Malibu Conservation Camp, Perkins said she knew then that she didn’t want to go back to her previous lifestyle.
“I told the counselor I needed help,” she said. “It was the first time I said that. He arranged for me to be paroled at Phoenix House in Monrovia. I was there for about nine to 12 months.”
Perkins said counseling and 12-step meetings with Cocaine Anonymous helped her understand that she wasn’t alone.
“It saved my life,” she said.
A mother of four (Antonio, 38; Tanisha, 34; Leonard ‘Zeke’, 31; and Deondra, 28), Perkins, 54, said getting clean was not an issue for her.
“It wasn’t rough for me because I wanted it,” she said. “It was knowing how to stay sober that helped me so much. At first, I didn’t know how to cope with the symptoms. I was going through the process of recovery. “It was an allergy of the body, an obsession of the mind, and a phenomenon of cravings. I fought for my life.”
Once Perkins got clean, she decided that she would help others who were battling similar experiences. She knew “Exactly what they were going through.”
So, in 2000, she launched Turning Point.
The organization’s mission is to break the cycle of recidivism and abuse in the Los Angeles community. For more than 20 years, Turning Point has been dedicated to providing support and transforming lives.
The organization is currently seeking donations for its annual toy drive in December. The organization is also preparing to open another Sisterhood Alliance for Freedom and Equality (SAFE) House for women in March and will soon announce the date of its spring luncheon fundraiser.
“The work never stops,” Perkins said. “There is always a need. Turning Point is here to be of service. Someone helped me. I’m here to pay it forward.”
“Perkins, who is open and painfully honest about her life experience, admits to suffering relapses.
“Yeah, I did have some but not since 2000,” she said. “Before 2000, I didn’t think I was ready but I got back on track when I went to County Jail.”
Life for Perkins continues to test her mettle.
“I battle trauma,” she said. “My brother under me committed suicide. It was the first death I experienced when I was two years sober. I saw him six months before his death. There are still some unresolved things.”
In a way, Perkins, who has a sister in San Bernardino, and a brother in Oregon, is still paying a high price due to her addiction. To her dismay, her relationship with at least one of her children remains strained.
“Deondra is having the hardest time,” Perkins said. “I believe I’m at peace with it today. I tried in so many ways to build a relationship with her. She is not receptive. That makes me sad. If she has kids, I would love to be a part of their lives. When she’s ready, I hope she’ll come to me.”
Deondra Merriweather admits to harboring some ill will when it comes to her mother.
“I’m not mad at her,” she said. “I feel we both don’t want to have a relationship. We don’t have a relationship, and that’s because of her not being there. It’s not because of the drugs. It’s because she just wasn’t there. Even after she got clean, she wasn’t there. Now that I’m older, I just don’t care.”
Merriweather’s memories of her mother are almost non-existent.
“I have no memory of ever sitting in her lap,” said Merriweather, who works at a credit union. “There were times she would come to see us. She had three other children. She only tried to have a relationship with the oldest.
“In the past, I tried to have a relationship. I told her we should go to counseling. At that time, she wasn’t open to it. She’s said a lot of hurtful things in the past.”
Asked if she’s proud of how her mother has turned her life around, Merriweather said, “I don’t want to seem mean, but I don’t have any feelings. I know that sounds harsh. Regarding when I have children. No, she can’t see them. She only wants to be in the kids’ lives. If she didn’t try to be in my life, why should I let her have a relationship with my kids?”
Perkins’ oldest daughter, Tanisha Merriweather, has worked with her at Turning Point as the program director for seven years.
“In the beginning, it was hard working with her,” Tanisha said. “Our personalities didn’t match. Now I love working with her. Now we’re close.”
She sees things differently than her sister, Deondra when it comes to her mother.
“I’m proud of her success,” she said. “A lot of people don’t overcome what she’s overcome.”
Like her sister, Tanisha has limited memories of her mother from when she was a child.
“The first memory I have is her being at my fifth-grade graduation,” Tanisha Merriweather said. “That was the first time I even knew who she was to me. She was a stranger. She would write letters to me when she was in jail but I didn’t even know what she looked like.”
Tanisha Merriweather said it does something to a child when they don’t know their mother.
“It’s a loss of identity,” she said, adding that she wouldn’t tell her friends about her mother because she didn’t know her. “I felt like she chose drugs instead of her kids. I didn’t understand that. Now that I’m working at Turning Point, I understand it more.
“When you don’t have your mother, you are looking for another mother figure for acceptance. I would even look at magazines. Her not being here affected me because I couldn’t connect with anybody. My dad was in and out of my life. He didn’t show affection and didn’t show love for us. He does now.”
Tanisha Merriweather has a 14-year-old daughter that Perkins sees often.
“Me and my daughter have a great relationship,” said Tanisha Merriweather. “In the beginning, it wasn’t easy. I didn’t know how to show her love and affection. I didn’t want to hug. Now I feel a lot better. I make a conscious effort to hug her. I have to admit, I was jealous of the relationship my mom had with my daughter. Why didn’t she do it with me if she knew how to do that?”
Tanisha Merriweather said her relationship with her mother changed when she graduated from high school and went to live with Perkins.
“There was no instant connection, but it was something,” she said. “I came to understand that you have to let go. You can’t hold them to it forever. Allow them to show you they are different.”
Perkins, who encouraged her daughters to speak their truth in this article, hopes communities will support individuals struggling with addiction.
“People are human,” she said. “We have made mistakes. Just because we abused drugs, don’t throw us away. Show more compassion. We have to do our part, too, and say, ‘This is not the life I want to live anymore.’”
Turning Point is located at 3756 Santa Rosalia Drive, Suite 617, Baldwin Hills. Information: 323 296-1840 or info@turningpointaod.org.
Darlene Donloe is a freelance reporter for Wave Newspapers who covers South Los Angeles. She can be reached at ddonloe@gmail.com.
