Love Doesn't Hurt

By Shaina Bowen

This book is about one woman's emotional journey through the darkness of domestic abuse and how she made it to the light on the other side. Be prepared for a roller-coaster of emotions as you witness the highs and the lows as if you are living them for yourself. Love Doesn't Hurt will take you from the bedroom to the courtroom, behind the prison walls, and back home to safety. It is a story filled with love and loss but most importantly, strength. A must read!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780359263752

Book preview

Love Doesn't Hurt

Love Doesn’t Hurt

Copyright © 2018 by Shaina Bowen

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2018

ISBN <978-0-359-26375-2>

Weavology Boutique Weave Bar LLC

1889 Carl D. Silver Pkway

Fredericksburg, VA 22401

www.WeavologyBoutique.com

In Loving Memory Of

Grandma

Jeannette Bowen

The strongest woman I've ever known.

In Loving Memory Of

Uncle Bro

Javoni Boyd

In our hearts and on our minds forever and always.

To everyone suffering in silence, to everyone who feels like they don’t have a voice, I hear you.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Myreice,

After the darkest storms come the most beautiful rainbows. You are and always will be my rainbow. I gave you life, but before you had a name or a face, with your first little dance in my belly you saved my life. You took your first breath and everything made sense. I'll never be able to explain how much I love you but I'll spend forever trying. Mama loves you more than anything and anyone. My greatest creation is you.

SaSha,

My big sister, my best friend, my first friend, my backbone, my rock. I could describe you in so many ways and none of them would be good enough. There's no way I could ever repay you, but my plan is to show you that your sacrifices weren't in vain. I do this for you. I do this for us.

Beyoncé Knowles-Carter,

You saved me from myself. In my darkest hours when I felt I couldn't make it; your music gave me strength that I didn't know I possessed. Had it not been for your gift, I could be dead right now. Your voice is more powerful than you know. Thank You.

INTRODUCTION

Under the shadow of an administration that openly promotes sexism, racism and social intolerance, it should come as no surprise that there is still such an overbearing stigma surrounding domestic violence. It is one of the most frequently committed crimes, yet it remains one of the most under-reported. It may have something to do with society being so judgmental that it inflicts guilt, and shame upon the victims essentially re-victimizing them. Maybe it's due to the lack of resources available to victims and their families. Maybe it's because when these crimes are reported, the justice system designed to protect us fails us. Our batterers are continually released on bail, angered further than before, which puts us in even more danger. No matter what the cause is, domestic violence has become a worldwide epidemic.

Today I am breaking the silence. For too long I've been too paralyzed by shame to live my truth. I've finally gotten to a place where I can say I am not a victim, but a survivor. I've healed enough to stop mourning over the shards of glass and step back to admire the beautiful mosaic they've created. I’ve found peace in all of my broken pieces. Too many people don't make it out alive but I did, and for that I'm grateful. Today, I am seven years freed. I have good days and not so great days. Is it always easy? No, it isn’t. But, it's always worth it. This is my story.

CHAPTER ONE

Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

People make the mistake of thinking domestic violence is a lower-class problem. Domestic violence does not discriminate. It can happen to any race, color, creed, sex, and social class. It's an everybody problem. You watch these lifetime movies. You see it play out so many times and wonder why the victim doesn't leave. You tell yourself that you'll never be that girl. One day, I woke up and that's exactly who I had become.

I’m from Dorchester, where fathers don’t exist. They’re either in jail, dead, or they never came back from the corner store. Most mothers aren’t around. They left you at Grandmas house to go get pregnant with your next half sibling, club-hop with Shaquan and them, locked up for boosting, or strung out on Blue Hill Ave. I’m from Dorchester where Grandma raised everybody. She made something from nothing. She didn’t have a job but there was always food on the table even if it was just butterbeans and cornbread. Everybody knows her even though she stays in the house and when the street lights came on that’s where you better be too. I’m from Dorchester. But my Dorchester was very different.

I grew up in a very loving environment. Both of my parents were under the same roof with my siblings and me. Both sets of grandparents were in my life along with my maternal great-grands. I had a host of aunts, uncles, and cousins. My life was very full. My father has been a police officer longer than I've been breathing, and my mother drove the city bus, the MBTA. We weren't rich but my siblings and I were very fortunate. Where I come from, my family dynamic was very uncommon. Married parents, nice clothes, good schooling. We went to METCO. It’s a program that takes inner-city children out to the suburbs to better school districts to receive a better education. My dad kept us active and well rounded. Between Nana and my Grandmother, not a day went by that I wasn't told how much I was loved, how smart I was, and how beautiful I was. My paternal grandmother doted on me especially. I was spoiled. I had very high self-esteem, and a strong sense of self-worth. I never sought outside validation. Was my childhood perfect? No, but it was pretty close.

My dad worked hard to protect us from the everyday horrors he witnessed at work. I grew up very sheltered and naive. It was a blessing and a curse. I was blind to a lot of what was going on around me. I was book smart but I was dumb as hell. I lacked the street smarts that most teens from Dorchester possessed. I think that's why I couldn't see the fire through the smoke.

At fifteen years old, I had all the answers to all of life’s questions. My parents were fools who just wanted to make me miserable, or so I thought. That was the year my life changed forever.

It was June 2005. I had just completed my sophomore year of high school. All of my baby fat had melted off. As my body began to change so did my mindset. I had started hanging out with some of he neighborhood girls. Their lives lacked the structure that my parents forced upon me. With both of my parents always working, I took advantage of this newfound freedom. During the day I worked, and at night, I stayed at my friends house. I use that term loosely because looking back she was everything but what a friend should be.

Her mother was more of a friend than a parent. There were no rules. It was the party house. I thought that was what I wanted so I moved in. There were about nine of us girls sleeping in one bedroom. It didn’t seem like it because we never slept. We ran the streets until sunrise. Though I've never smoked, it was here that I saw marijuana for the first time. It was here that I tasted liquor for the first time. It was here that I met the father of my child.

The memory is very vivid, still sharp in my mind as if it were moments ago. It was very humid that day, and I must've been on shower number three. Wrapped in my favorite pink towel, I stood in the mirror with my back to the open bedroom door. Several times I watched him walk past the door glancing in the room each time. Then in the hallway I heard whispering.

Yo who's that in Buddha’s room?

You don't remember her? That's little Shaina from the Lee School. Ray Bowens daughter.

A few minutes later, Buddha came in the room.

Spunky wanna talk to you outside.

Who's that?

LK and thems friend. He be on Bicknell. He always be with Freddy.

I screwed my face up and said, eww, you know I don't like dark skinned boys, and Vaughn will kill me.

Gevaughn was my sometimes boyfriend that lived next door to me. He was seventeen, always in and out of DYS, and the only boyfriend I knew. The thought of me looking at another man seemed absurd...until I was looking at another man.

For several days I watched Spunky watching me. He would attempt to start conversations with me but I would rudely cut my eyes and keep walking. He wouldn't give up though. Our mutual friends kept trying to convince me that he was worth my time but I wasn't interested. I didn't find him attractive at all. Two days later, Gevaughn and I had a bad argument that almost turned physical, and it ended our relationship. Looking back, its odd that I was able to walk away from that relationship so quickly because it ALMOST became physical, but it took me years to leave a situation that DID become physical.

I was walking back to Buddha’s house from the hair salon and Spunky was sitting out front in the car. He had on a blue baseball cap embroidered with a gold S with pilot wings and dark shades. The window was all the way down. He was alone eating pizza. I decided to see where his head was at. I walked up to the window and turned on the charm.

Where's my pizza? How you gonna stuff your face and not bring me any?

I didn't really want any, but I needed an opening. Of course, he took the bait. He smiled a big shit eating grin that made him appear much younger than his 20 years.

He said, my bad, I'll go grab you some right now. I didn't know you were here.

Just to see his reaction, I said, nah, I want yours.

Without hesitation he gave me both slices, including the one he was eating. Pleased with myself, I turned and walked toward the house. Spunky was trying to talk to me but I didn't break my stride. As I entered the house, his friend Marcus was exiting the house. I wrote my number down and instructed him to give it to Spunky. Game on.

From that day forward, we stayed on the phone for hours at a time, all the time. He would drive me to work every morning, bring me lunch on my break, and pick me up in the afternoon. Some nights we went on random walks with no destination just to talk. He took me to the house he grew up in. His parents were selling it because they moved out of state, but we sat on the porch and talked for hours. One of our walks took us to a church on his old street. Though I'm petrified of heights, he made me feel safe enough to sit on the roof with him under the stars while we shared hopes, dreams, and memories. Our Fridays were spent with him patiently waiting for me in the nail salon while I got my nails done. I didn't know it yet, but I was falling for this man.

June 23rd, 2005. I don't