The Pain Hidden behind My Smile

By KJ Harden

Karla was a misguided youth who witnessed everything that she was supposed to be protected from. Growing up without a father in her life and a mother who didn't know how to show her love forced her to go out into the world unprepared for the realities of it. She became a mother at the age of eighteen by a man who was six years older with children. Although she never felt love at home, she still opened herself up to the possibilities of being loved and loving someone in return. That search led her to a young man whom she eventually spent eight years of her life with and shared two more children together. During their time together she suffered from mental, physical, and emotional abuse, causing her to finally get up enough courage to leave him.

Single again, Karla started doing things that she never had the opportunity to do while with such a controlling man. She started to drink and go out more, which eventually caused her to make decisions that affected and disrupted her household. She met a few men and settled down with one that caught her eye. While trying to pick up the pieces of her life, she started doing a little better and was looking forward to her future without the hurt and pain that she suffered through for years. Trying to better her relationship with her siblings, she invited them to her apartment so that they could spend time together, but nothing would prepare herself for what lay ahead. One night with her family had turned her whole world upside down and left her fighting for her freedom. With everything that she had already gone through, nobody would have ever expected for her to end up in jail, not even her. Leaving behind her children, Karla had to adjust to her new life behind bars. There was no turning back now, she had to fight harder than she had ever fought before. During that fight, she was sexually assaulted by a male deputy that worked at the courthouse. Leaving her with distrust for the same people put in place to protect her, she started to give up and accept things as they were, but God didn't want that for her, so He gave her the vision and sign that she had been waiting for.

After being away for almost two years, Karla was released back out into the same cold, cruel world that she was abruptly taken from and had to start rebuilding what was torn down. She also needed to repair the broken relationship with her children, but none of that would come easy for her. Battling depression, being homeless, and running into people that had taken advantage of her instead of helping only made her stronger, and after two years of parole Karla packed the few things she had along with her children and headed for a new life in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, leaving behind everything that was meant to break her and starting a new life for herself and children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781645846581

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The Pain Hidden behind My Smile

KJ Harden

Copyright © 2019 KJ Harden

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64584-657-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64584-658-1 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Season One

Season Two

Season Three

Season Four

Season Five

Season Six

Season Seven

Season Eight

Chapter Two

Season Nine

Season Ten

Season Eleven

Season Twelve

Season Thirteen

Season Fourteen

Season Fifteen

Season Sixteen

Chapter Three

Season Seventeen

Season Eighteen

Season Nineteen

Season Twenty

Season Twenty-One

Season Twenty-Two

Season Twenty-Three

Season Twenty-Four

Chapter One

Season One

I was eighteen years old when it finally hit me that I didn’t like the life I was living. I had always dreamed of what it would be like if I were able to go back and live it all over again. What would I do differently? What would I want to change? The first thing I probably would wish was that I was born into another family who loved me and made me feel good about myself, instead of tearing me down every chance they had. My mother was mostly interested in whatever new man was in her life and saw us kids as a burden, or at least that was how I felt. She never really wanted to spend any time with us, not that I could remember anyway. I promised myself that when I had children, I would never make them feel that way. Feeling unloved affected my self-esteem negatively, and I filled the emptiness by drinking and going around with the wrong type of men. I started out young. I was only fourteen years old but I was living the life of an adult. No true guidance, no real supervision. I did what I wanted and accepted the punishment as it came. I even lost my virginity to a boy that was two years older than I was who already had an infant son. I was too young and vulnerable and shouldn’t have even seen the streets as they were. Alcohol, drugs, sex, violence surrounded me. I should’ve been protected from it all, but I wasn’t. I saw and dealt with it firsthand. I craved attention since I didn’t get it at home.

With everything that I had been through, I would be crazy not to take that chance to go back and relive at least part of my life, except I would do everything over. I wanted another chance not to make the same mistakes again. I know that before I could do anything to change my life, I first had to change myself. That would not be an easy thing since I didn’t have a role model growing up. I couldn’t change where I had come from, so I had to change who I was from the inside out. I needed to start by learning how to love myself.

We don’t have a choice on whether we could live our lives over again or not. So it’s important to accept the cards you’re dealt and make the most of them. It was going to take some time and a lot of pain, but eventually I would get it right and learn what I needed to in order to be the best woman I could be moving forward. I would never have been with guys who cheated on me, nor done a lot of things that I shouldn’t have done because I didn’t know any better. It’s a matter of choices, and I made a lot of bad decisions. But I know that I am learning from them and I am stronger because of them.

No one’s life turns out exactly the way they want it to. I believe that God gives you experiences so that you can help other people during your journey here on earth. Your life just isn’t your own, and God reminds you of that by what He gives you and when He takes away from you. I will never understand why He allowed me to make the decisions that I made. Things just never seemed fair, but then who am I to question Him? To say that my life has been difficult would be an understatement. I have been through the fire and back plenty of times, and while it was happening, I wondered about the reason. Now I know that He has bigger plans for me. I can use everything I’ve been through to help someone else. I know I’m not the only one dealing with struggles.

I’ve shed so many tears and begged for the pain to end. Through it all, I learned never to question God because I know that He wants the best for me and would never hurt me. He promised that He would look out for me and now that I am older I believe Him, but when I was younger it was hard for me to even understand because of the hurt and pain that I endured starting at an early age. I didn’t know why my life was so hard or why I had to deal with so much. I just wanted to be happy.

I was wild as a teen and refused to slow down for anyone. I was acting out any chance that I had. I was hurting and nobody seemed to care. With everything I was going through and the love that I lacked, it made me want to have a child of my own because I thought that if I did, then I would finally have someone who would love me unconditionally. I never thought about the responsibilities that went along with being a mother; I just wanted to feel loved. I practiced safe sex as much as I could, but there were those lonely moments where I didn’t care if I had gotten pregnant so I didn’t bring up birth control or condoms, not that I was really that sexually active. That may sound stupid and selfish, but that was exactly how I felt. Lucky for me, I didn’t get pregnant, especially since I wasn’t prepared for that just yet. Only God knew when my time would come; only He knew when I would be ready to handle something so precious.

After many failed attempts at becoming pregnant, it had finally happened. Here I was now, a young eighteen-year-old woman, finding out that I was going to be a mother, but it wasn’t good news anymore. I wanted a baby for so long but when it happened, I didn’t know for sure if I wanted a baby anymore. I was scared and nervous. It was moving so fast that I couldn’t take it in all at once. I had just turned eighteen, and the reality of becoming a mother was hard for me to accept now. What I also wasn’t comprehending was that I would be responsible for another human being. I always had other people’s children, so it was easy for me to give them back when I was done watching them or spending time with them. This would be my baby, and once it was here, there was no giving it back. My past wasn’t going to disappear just because I had gotten pregnant, and I was foolish for even thinking that getting pregnant would take away the pain that I buried deep down inside of me. It was always going to be there. The only thing I’d succeeded in doing was showing how dumb I was for bringing an innocent child into my crazy world. Even though I wanted a baby, I knew I wasn’t ready for one because of the lifestyle I was living at the moment. I partied too much, got drunk when I wanted to, I would smoke weed when I was in the mood.

It wasn’t right for me to drag a baby into such a mess. I didn’t know if I was ready to stop partying. I was still hurting from everything that I had already been through. I just needed some way to ease the pain, and although I thought having a baby would help me, I didn’t think that would even stop me from living a reckless lifestyle. Having to face my life sober seemed impossible, but maybe that was what God wanted me to do. I think He wanted me to stop hurting myself, and this was His way of showing me that I was loved, that He loved me no matter what I thought or how I felt.

The father of this new life that was growing inside of me was loved and hated by many. He was a renegade gangster disciple, causing him to have enemies. He was also feared by many because of his rank. He practically ran the projects, and here I was pregnant with his child. He had other children, so the moment I told him he was going to be a father again meant little to him. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I would soon find out.

I was too young to think about the consequences when I started messing with him. He had watched me grow up and was six years older than me. Back then I loved messing with older men, but I wasn’t in love with the actual man, if that makes any sense. I had everything under control. I felt like I controlled the men I got involved with; they did not control me. They unknowingly took care of me and I never had to have sex with them. I used my looks to get whatever I wanted from them. They were already financially stable, so I didn’t have to worry about anything. I always kept a few men around, so when I needed something I got it without question. That was until I got pregnant. I wasn’t even in a relationship with him, nor did I want anything serious with him because of who he was and what he did. He had too many women and wasn’t the type of man to settle down with just one, not even if she was pregnant by him.

Growing up in the environment that I was in only made me want to do something with my life. I wanted to be better than my parents. When I was young, I had my whole life planned in my mind. As I grew older and started really experiencing the streets, I knew my plan would have to change. Even though I thought I wanted to have a baby, I know I wasn’t really ready for one. I wanted a career and a husband, but that is far from what I got. When I learned I was going to be a teenage mother is when I knew I was reliving my mother’s life, no matter how badly I didn’t want to step into her shoes. She had also been a teenage mother, and she wasn’t married to my oldest sister’s father. At least she did marry my father but it was an abusive marriage, so I don’t think it even mattered. I didn’t want that for myself. I wanted a happy relationship, and I wanted to finish school and become something in my life. I wanted to change it all up and just live differently than my mother. And yet, I was following in the same footsteps I had told myself I wouldn’t follow. That vicious cycle was continuing, and I was determined to break it somehow, some way. What could I say and how could I say it? To sum it all up, my life was either over or I was going to be the best damn mother that I could be to my baby, with or without the help of her father or anyone else for that matter. I was pregnant now, so I was responsible for everything that was ahead of me.

At eighteen, I couldn’t imagine the struggles still to come. I had a whole life ahead of me, and little did I know there were plenty more struggles that I was going to face. Now that I had a responsibility to my child, what was my next move? An innocent baby was forming in my womb, and I couldn’t even take care of myself just yet. I lived in the streets, so how would I put a roof over the baby’s head? I ate whenever and wherever I could, so how could I feed a baby? I sold drugs and used men to get money, how was I going to take care of my baby? How would I protect my baby from the dangers of this world? I needed to do something, and I needed to do it quick. I was unwed and a high school dropout carrying a baby. It was time to start thinking of this baby and not about myself.

Almost a month into my pregnancy something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I didn’t have too many friends, and since it was hard for me to trust people, I kept a small circle. I had more male friends than I did female. I was a tomboy, so I preferred to hang out with men rather than women, unless it was female family members. One of my male friends from the projects wanted me to hang out with him, so I went over to the high-rise building and into the apartment where he was at. I had hung out with him plenty of times before so I didn’t think it would be a problem now. I never looked at him in a sexual way, but I knew that he was attracted to me. I made sure that he was aware we would only be friends; he was funny and cool too, and I liked hanging out with him. Nothing ever crossed my mind about whether he could be trusted or not. I tried to leave the hurt and pain behind so I wouldn’t judge him or any other friend that I had. I tried to keep the bad memories locked away, and I didn’t dwell on them as much as I used to. I just kept moving on with my life, but if I sat down long enough and thought about it, it would hurt too much causing me to slip into depression thinking about all that I was going through, so I tried my hardest to stay occupied and not think about anything that I know would cause me to become depressed, especially now that my child felt every emotion that I was feeling.

Some of the older men in the projects snorted cocaine, so it didn’t surprise me that he was high when I made it to the spot. My baby’s father used coke, and so did a majority of the higher-ranked gang members. I never judged anyone, but I wasn’t going to pick up that habit. I’m too strong a woman to be pressured to do anything that I didn’t want to do, not that I was even asked to do any drugs. I had no other choice but to stop drinking and smoking weed now that I was expecting a baby. When I drank alcohol, it always helped me forget my problems, at least for the moment. I was alone with a male friend who was high, but I didn’t think he was so high that he would try to rape me. I was wrong.

I trusted my friend, but the next thing I knew he was trying to take my clothes off. He pulled my pants down to my knees and was trying to pull one leg out of them. I kicked, punched, screamed, and tried to fight him up off me. I cried to him and begged for him to stop. I was vulnerable because I was reliving my past but this time, it was with someone that was more forceful, a man that wasn’t a relative and was determined to rape me. I thought I could get him to stop if I told him that I wouldn’t say anything to anyone if he would just let me go. I kept having flash backs of when my uncle tried to molest me. I had to get this man off me. I had to leave this apartment. Lord, please don’t let him rape me.

He pushed me on the couch and lay down on top of me and tried to force himself inside of me, but I was moving so much that he couldn’t. He was also having a hard time because he was too soft. Maybe my crying was working or maybe the drugs were affecting his erection. Whatever it was I kept fighting to get from under him so I could leave. We were friends, so I didn’t understand why the hell he was doing this to me? Finally, he got tired of struggling and I was tired of crying, but I was still afraid of him, especially with him acting the way he was acting. I was afraid for my baby too. I didn’t tell him that I was pregnant. I just wanted to leave. He finally got off me and let me get up.

Put your fucking clothes on! he demanded.

I got them on as fast as I could. I didn’t know if I was sick to my stomach because I was pregnant or if it was because he tried to rape me. I tried to leave the apartment, but he grabbed me and threw me up against the wall.

You tell anyone about this, and I’ll kill you, he said.

I won’t, I said

The tears ran down my face. He looked me in the eyes, and I turned away from him. That was his way of scaring me and to let me know that he meant business. He pushed me out the door, and I heard it slam hard as I ran down the stairs. I knew how these men in the projects were, but I didn’t know it would happen to me especially with someone I trusted. I had escaped something that could have had the potential to damage me for the rest of my life. I believe that God spared me and my sanity by allowing something to prevent him from raping me. I thought I knew him, but he showed me a side of him that I had never seen before. I didn’t want to see it or him ever again. I ran to the other high-rise building where I was staying and didn’t look back.

When I finally made it inside the apartment, I went straight into my friend’s room and told her what just happened to me. She was more like a sister to me, and I was close enough to her to know that she wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

Don’t tell anyone else, I said, seriously.

I knew I could trust her because we always had each other’s backs. She might tell her boyfriend, but that was it. I had a bigger problem because I didn’t know how I would tell my baby’s father about this. I had done so many things in my life, things that made me ashamed. I had hurt people because I’d been hurt, I had used people because I’d been used. Was this my payback? Was it all finally catching up with me? I didn’t think the things that I had done to others were severe enough to where I would come face-to-face with a rapist.

A few days after that incident I was confronted by my baby’s father. He already knew what happened by the time he caught up to me, except the story that he heard wasn’t my side and it wasn’t the truth. I still hadn’t found the right way to tell him about what went down with me that night, so I kept it to myself but I knew he would eventually find out. I couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to do what he did to me and then lie about it to William. This guy didn’t even know I was pregnant, so William had to have been the one to mention it to him. Here he was asking me which one of them was the father of my unborn child. It was impossible for the baby to be Shawn’s because I never had sex with him; he tried forcing himself on me. Besides, I was already pregnant before this all happened. I couldn’t face him because I thought I was partly to blame. I knew I shouldn’t have been alone with Shawn. I should’ve stayed my ass in the house. We walked together into the hallway of a friend’s high-rise building to get out of the cold and finish talking about what he heard. I was tired, and my head was pounding. I didn’t know what I was going to do about this, nor did I know what he was going to do to me. He had power, and he used it every chance he got, even with me. I didn’t want him to deny our baby. I knew he was the father, I wasn’t messing with anyone else when I conceived, hell, not even before then.

We were standing on the steps inside the door, and it was freezing outside, but I was hot, and my face was red. He told me what he had heard and gave me the opportunity to tell him the truth. I broke down and started crying; I told him everything that happened and when it happened but the look on his face was telling me that he didn’t believe a word I just told him. He had a bottle of Hennessy, so I figured he was drunk, and I figured he might be high too.

He stared right into my eyes menacingly. You better be telling the truth. It better be my baby.

The next thing I knew I felt this painful sting of a slap across my face. I hadn’t expected it, and it came as a shock. I reached up to touch my cheek, and it felt warm. It was the first time a man had ever put his hands on me like that and I had endured a lot in my lifetime. I knew right then that I wanted nothing more to do with him. We were only going to share one thing together, and that was this baby. I couldn’t believe that he would hit me knowing that I was carrying his child. The slap was so loud that my friend who stayed on the fourth floor heard me crying and opened her door.

What happened? she asked. You okay?

I nodded and yelled back up to her, Yeah, I’m okay.

I looked back at him with hurt in my eyes.

Get your ass back into the house, he said. I better not see you out here.

I didn’t know if he was going to confront his boy for trying to rape me or what was going through his mind, but I did just as he said and went upstairs.

My life was starting to become more painful, and I didn’t want to live it anymore. I had thoughts about killing myself before but never seriously. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew that I couldn’t take these streets any longer. I grew up too fast, and before I reached eighteen, I had witnessed my share of abuse, pain, struggles, and life. Since I had to drop out of school, I was thinking that before I had gotten too far along, I would go for my GED somewhere. I started going to classes that were held at the police station down from the projects but never finished because I found out that one of my classmates was also pregnant by the same man as I was. I knew it was a small world, but damn, why did it have to be my baby’s father? One day, she had come to class and was bragging about him and showing off pictures to our other classmates. I knew that I had to say or do something about it. I wanted her to feel the same way that I felt when I found out she was carrying his child. We had taken a break and were hanging outside of the station when I started asking her questions about her pregnancy and asked her about him. I then broke the news to her that we were both pregnant by the same man. She started acting as if this couldn’t be possible, but it was. He wasn’t innocent, and it was definitely possible. I guess he didn’t want her to know that her child had a sibling that would be born before hers. I turned and walked back into the station, back to class. Right then, I knew I really needed to get the hell out of the projects. I tried my best to stay out of my mother’s house; I didn’t like to be tied down, but I had to swallow my pride and go back home. Since I was pregnant and eighteen I was technically considered an adult so I would be able to come and go as I pleased. I was six months pregnant by the time I caved and asked my mother if I could come back home. She said yes, and I packed my things and left where I was previously staying to go back to live with my mom.

I was tired of seeing my baby’s father with different women, spending nights at different women’s houses. And to top it all off sharing my most precious moments of becoming a mother for the first time with another woman who was carrying his child too. I needed to hurry up and leave. I needed to get away from the projects, and I finally did. The one thing that I didn’t know was that my life was no longer my own. I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure that this baby didn’t go through what I had gone through. I was going to be the protector, and I was going to get my shit together.

We are human, and we fall, but as long as we don’t stay down, we are okay. We have to get back up, dust ourselves off, and keep climbing. As you continue reading about my life, feeling my pain and understanding me, please don’t feel sympathy. Instead, take my mistakes and learn from them. You may not have ever gone through it, or you may be going through it right now, you need to know that you are not in this alone. You don’t have to deal with any type of abuse. Walking away is okay. Learn from the struggles that you go through. Don’t make it hard on yourself. Some of us weren’t born with both parents actively involved, money to make sure you have the things you want or need you may not even know what true love feels like, but you have to take what you are given because as I have found out, things wouldn’t be easy but they would be worth it. Keep pushing and keep praying things will turn around in your favor.

Season Two

I felt so much better leaving the projects behind and moving back in with my mother. Although I didn’t see too much of my baby’s father, his mother didn’t live that far from me so he would come by from time to time. I had made it through the winter and was now experiencing the real pregnant life. It was an amazing feeling to see how my belly was growing and hearing from the doctors at every appointment that my baby was healthy. I yearned to go to the appointments to see the baby through ultrasound and hear the heartbeat. It was official; I was really about to become a mother. I was six months pregnant so I was feeling every movement now. She was growing and I was falling in love more and more. All I had ever wanted was a complete family, but it seemed as though I would end up being a single mother. I didn’t really want a relationship with her father, and from what he had shown me, he wasn’t capable of being the man that I needed in my life. I wish I would’ve been more cautious while having sex with him, but it was too late for all that now. Six months too late. I wasn’t stable at all and didn’t prepare for any of this. I couldn’t let it get the best of me. I needed to focus on what lay ahead. I had to start preparing for her arrival.

When I moved back home to my mother’s, my older sister was staying in my bedroom. I couldn’t really complain because I had left, so I slept in the living room on the sectional couch with my mother. She slept on one end and I slept on the other. There was no peace at all, but I just stayed where I was until I was ready to start preparing to bring my daughter home. My sister had just given birth to my niece and she already had a two-year old son, so I wasn’t too pressed for my room just yet, but I knew my time was coming. I was a ball of nerves as I impatiently waited for my princess to arrive.

The time had finally arrived to start decorating my room and put my baby’s bed together, but now that I was ready for my room, my sister wasn’t as ready to give it up to me. I had so much to do, and although I understood that she just had her baby, I was about to have mine. That morning I told her I needed my key to the door and she was hesitant to give it to me. She was trying to lock the room up and leave. Knowing her, I knew she wouldn’t even be coming back that day so I was determined to get my key so I could start putting my room back together. I asked her for my key nicely yet she ignored