Lord, Shine on Me

By Princess Love

This is an autobiography about my rough, hard life with its trials and tribulations. I was raised by an alcoholic mother, enduring the pain of her sickness.

This book talks about how I have been diagnosed with bipolar for twenty-five years, how I struggled with the ups and downs of that mental illness, and how my husband is afraid to come outside. Its been twelve years, and he is still staying in.

Through strong faith and prayer, I overcame to be a soldier for the Lord. I am now a missionary. I felt inspired to tell my story, about how my faith in God and my prayers kept me. I hope this book can encourage someone to keep praying, because prayer works, and to keep the faith in God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781973635000

Princess Love

Princess Love Born in Harlem N. Y. Husband Hakeem Love Mother Domanick Clark (deceased) Father Kent Lewis Daughter Cleo Grandchildren Tina and Tom Great grandchildren Precious and Michah Sister Deliah and Melody Brothers Brutus and Speedy (both deceased) Church AME Missonary Love to Travel

Book preview

Chapter 1

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Growing Up with My

Mom & Stepfather

As a child I grew up in New York City in a section called Harlem. My brother Speedy and I lived with my mother Dominick and my stepfather Bojangles. I guess I was about 10 years old; I did not have a nickname I was called by my birth name Princess.

My mother and stepfather would argue, fuss, fight, stab and cut one another every time my mother took a drink which was often. Sometimes Bojangles would bust her lip and she would hit him with different objects. I would cry, shake and pray that they would stop. This wasn’t anything unusual for me; this was how they carried on as far back as I can remember. My biological father whose name is Kent, but everyone called him Slick knew about their behavior. He petitioned the court to let me live with him, his wife and their two children, Delilah and Brutus but his petition was denied, and I remained, nervous and always biting my fingernails.

When I turned twelve years old my stepfather’s mother died and I went alone to visit Bojangles’ father who lived around the corner from us. His father was happy to see me. When I was inside his house he told me to have a seat, so I did. After a brief general conversation, he said to me, you know my wife died and I’m going to need you to come around and give me a little bit from time to time. I was shocked, stunned and I ran all the way home. I was scared and right away I told my mother. Later that night Bojangles came home and my mother told him what happened. By this time my mother was drunk. She took it out on him for what his father had said to me. She beat him, one thing about my mother; she did not hesitate to beat you. If I did something wrong or looked like I did something wrong, my mother would hit me with her hands, belt, iron or etc. I am not trying to bash my mother in any type of way, I’m just stating facts. In school I was this ugly little girl with very short hair, buck teeth, very low self-esteem and I felt like everyone else was better than me. In school I got good grades, but my teacher was concerned about me being depressed. She would send letters home to my mother about my depressed state and my mother would flip out on me asking me what I was so depressed about? My mother disciplined me even though I did not understand exactly what depression meant at that time. Early one morning at the age of 12, I was getting dressed for school. This day my mother had left early to pay a utility bill. Normally, she’s usually home when I leave for school, but she wanted to be the first customer, so the electric company would stop the order for her service to be shut off that day. My bedroom was the back bedroom next to the bathroom and my brother Speedy’s bedroom was the middle bedroom and he was asleep in his room. This is something I will never forget; I was coming out of the bathroom and proceeded to go to my bedroom when I heard someone coming up the steps in the hallway. I looked to see who it was, and I saw a man with a stocking over his face. I ran in my room and slammed the door. He pushed the door open; I got scared and was shaking. My body was leaning up against the wall. He had a big butcher knife that he pressed up against my chest and said if you scream I will kill you. I did not know what to do so I screamed anyway. I don’t know how loud I screamed but it was loud enough for my brother, Speedy, to wake up and come see why I was screaming and he saw the man with the knife. He ran back to his room; got a sword he had hanging on his wall as a souvenir and chased the man downstairs and out the house. I was a nervous wreck and after that incident I became fidgety, jumpy and very tense. My mother got worried and decided to move us to a better environment where I would feel more relaxed. While waiting for her to find us another place to live I started thinking about all the times when our gas got shut off and it would be cold outside. That’s when we would use coal to heat the house. If we didn’t have any more coal left, we would pile up in bed with plenty of blankets to keep warm. We did not have any hot water, so we heated water up in pots that we placed on an electric hot plate. We also had to cook on the same hot plate. She did not pay her bills (electric, gas, phone) on time; only when she chose to pay them. When the electric got cut off we used candles to see and when the phone got cut off we would use our neighbor’s phone. We (my brother and I) did not always have breakfast or lunch every day but we always had dinner every night. It would be the food the government gave out or sometimes regular food; even if it was just beans, we ate dinner. What you must understand about my mother is that she was an alcoholic, that’s why she did things the way she did. I couldn’t see or understand this back when I was growing up because I was too young to understand like I do now. She found us a house to rent and moving day came and we moved to the projects. I sure hoped this was the better environment that I needed. I was in my teens; I would be attending a new school and meeting new friends. The first new friend I met in my new school was Connie. She and I became very close friends. We started having parties, stealing records (45’s) from the supermarket, clothes and earrings from the department stores. One day we stole panties with all kinds of designs on them and we got caught. The police took us to the police station. We were let go after being given a warning. That was not my only trip to the police station. One summer afternoon Connie and I with a group of other girls were walking. We saw a white girl walking ahead of us. Connie and I ran up on her; Connie pulled her hair, we hit her and knocked her down. The girl screamed and ran. We chased her, she ran to a gas station and we followed her there. The men that worked at the station grabbed me and Connie and held us until the police arrived. Our mothers came to the police station to get us out. The police wanted to send us to a Youth Study Center (jail for youths). Connie and I were thrilled about going to jail. We had heard about girls who went to jail and we thought that was something big, we did not know any better. Our mothers convinced the police to let us go and they did. I know what we did to that white girl was wrong; I was just following the crowd. I don’t have any problems with white girls, my neighbor was a white girl and we got along fine. I was sorry and vowed not to do that ever again; not going to jail was a blessing in disguise. Connie smoked cigarettes and I tried smoking too. I got dizzy and chocked off the cigarettes. I tried them a few more times and realized it wasn’t for me and never smoked ever again.

Chapter 2

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First Love Shaun &

Being Mischievous

One night I had a party and this short dark-skinned nice looking young brother came in.