New York wasn't everything I thought it would be. It did not welcome me with open arms. The first year, I was held up at gunpoint. Raped on the roof of a building I was dragged up to with a knife in my back, and had my apartment broken into three times. I don't know why; I had nothing of value after they took my radio the first time.

I don't even remember why I called myself an idiot. I can be very harshly critical of myself. It depends on my mood, and obviously it depends on where I am in my life. Yes, embracing myself - I'm working on that.

Motherhood was the beginning of my own journey asking the question, 'Why am I here?' I had to stop and think: What am I doing to teach my daughter? What do I believe in?

Make no mistake, Madonna is always in control of the image she wants you to see.

You took a pretty picture and you smashed it into bits, sank me into blackness and you sealed it with a kiss.

Everyone is entitled to my opinion

Obviously, my tastes and my priorities have changed. But I'm still asking the question 'Why?' Just because I'm a mother doesn't mean I'm not still a rebel and that I don't want to go in the face of convention and challenge the system. I never wanted to think in a robotic way, and I don't want my children to think that way, either.