My Felicia’s

A little personal because the world isn’t full of ponies and puppies

Ok, so let’s get personal

Even though I hate to get too personal.

It was 2008ish

I gave birth to my mini.

A few weeks later, I “belonged to him.”

I was no longer a singular, I was a plural,

not even that,

I was a possessive,

“Mine”

I felt like I had lost what was MINE.

mySELF.

Couldn’t even look at mySELF.

Cried every time I looked at mySELF.

Fingers pointing at me,

What did YOU do to HIM?

YOU brought out the rage in HIM.

What did YOU do?

What did YOU do?

Why did he turn against YOU?

How could I make someone

treat me like this?

I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know what I did.

I didn’t

I didn’t

I didn’t do anything but fall into mySELF.

No interactions with anyone ELSE.

And then I lost mySELF.

I lost mySELF.

I just moved through the days

And the days just kept going.

I smiled,

I worked,

I smiled,

I schooled,

I smiled,

I worked,

I smiled,

I schooled.

On campus, at work.

I smiled.

I lied,

I lied

and I lied.

Anyone looking,

I smiled,

I lied.

My pain, my pride.

An excruciating pain,

I couldn’t explain.

I smiled,

I lied.

I smiled,

I lied.

When I talk about “my Felicia’s” it’s a friendship, a bond, deeper than the depths of any words.  The night my daughter’s dad decided that his words weren’t enough was when I knew I was enough.  I had had enough. I was scared, I was sad, I felt alone and I felt like I had let my child down.  I was becoming a statistic. My daughter was too.  She was becoming what I never wanted for her.  But, I knew I could never, would never, let her see her mother let a man hit her and call it love.

My first Felicia,  I called her at 3 am. She was at my house at 3:15.  My other Felicia, before she became my other Felicia, and when I use the possessive I use it with pure love, she called her dad and her brother and helped me leave.  She, we, barely, knew one another outside of the office that we shared.

They saved me.

They made sure Jayla had a mom.