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I haven't shoplifted since I was 13.

I stole a significant amount of money from a family member. I knew I was going to get caught, but I was so desperate I didn't care. It was a cry for help.

During my breakdown, many things, tiny things I had not even registered before, had begun to torment me with guilt. I used to steal Splenda from Starbucks. I would go into a Starbucks whenever I needed the sweetener and would take a fistful of packets, even when I didn't buy a coffee.

A couple of weeks after the Olympics, I thought I'd pop down to my local supermarket and do some grocery shopping. One person came up to me in the frozen food aisle, and that was it. I was mobbed, and I had to leave my shopping. Now, I either shop online or go very late at night when the supermarket's nearly empty.

In one week, I went from being a girl who owed a guy thousands of dollars - my manager Anthony was paying for my outfits, paying for my food; I was sleeping in his parents' basement - to taking meetings with every major label in America. The next morning, I had a record deal and wrote him a cheque to pay back all that money.

The last thing I stole was a box of Coca Cola from a parked truck in Adelaide. I was nice and drunk. It was New Year's Eve. And that was about 28 years ago.

My mom and dad passed away from cancer. Within nine months, I lost both of my folks. Immediately after that, I had a horrible betrayal where my brother, who worked for me, stole a lot of my money. He's in jail now.

I went back to work because someone had to pay for the groceries.

I lost my daughter at 21. I had to give her up because I was broke, no place to take her, no money to take her. That was very traumatic.

Anyway, I lived on the streets and did pretty good until I got caught stealing, what was it? I kicked in a restaurant window, went in and took all the food that I wanted, and while coming out I was grabbed.