Embracing Who I Am

Thursday, March 2, 2017





The story was written and is owned by: Felecia Causey (ME!)
Model: Christia (Tia) Wells
The lady in the photos is only a model used for my story.

My mother had four kids, and I was the oldest. I was born before she met and married my step-father. As I was growing up, I definitely felt like the outsider. I wasn't ever invited to a lot of parties or family events because I was the outside child. My mother would always drop me off at her mother's house. Many times I would go in the bathroom and cry. My grandmother would allow me to stay outside until it was dark. When I came inside, she made me take a bathe, and fix me a pallet on the living room floor. She would fix me a sandwhich before I would fall asleep, and I remember I would still be hungry. I would toss and turn in the dark ready for daylight to peep out, so I can eat breakfast.

The next day around noon, my mother and siblings would come pick me up. I would sit and watch as my grandmother embraced my brother and sisters.  I can remember the sight of me, made her face be all frowned up. My mother's whole family had a very light skin complexion, but I had dark skin. My mother's sister gave me the nick name Chocalate Drop. It was when I grew older, that I knew why she called me that. I didn't think it was cute, and I didn't want that label any more.

When it was family fuctions at my grandmother's house, I stood out like a dot on a plain sheet of a paper on photos.  She would pull all my cousins and siblings close to her during every photo. I would be on the side like I was photo bombing a strange family's photo session.

My real father left my mother before I was born. The only thing I was told was my grandmother hated him, he was on drugs, and he lived with his mother.

When I turned 18 years old, I remembered hearing my grandmother and my aunt (the one that called me Chococlate Drop) in the other room. "She looks just like him," my aunt said. "I hope she doesn't be a druggie or loser like him," my grandmother replied.  I felt like someone had punched me in my chest.

The following May, I graduated with an 4.0 GPA, and Valendictorian of my class. I received a full academic schlorship to a top university.  My mother and my youngest sister were the only two who came to my graduation, even after I extended invites to the whole family. I even found my father's mother's address to send one to him. If he attended, I wasn't aware because he didn't approach me afterwards.






When I moved into my dorm, it was so depressing. While I saw many other students' family help them move in, my mom only came. She was on her phone the entire time she was there.  When she got ready to leave, she gave me her famous one arm hug. I cried the whole night, and vowed I would work and do my best, because just maybe my family would recognize me.

My brother graduated my third year in college. At this time, I was maintaining an 3.8 G.P.A, a job, and I had purchased me a used car. I went home to his graduation, without even letting anyone know. When his name was called, the entire family jumped up and cheered. My grandmother purchased him a brand new car for his graduation gift. I left without seeing my family, and drove back to school the same night.

When my graduation came, I didn't send out any invites. My mother would check in every week, but she never asked me about school. I graduated top of my class. The day after graduation, I drove myself to my father's mother's house. When I got there my grandmother informed me that the father I never met or will ever meet, had been shot and killed, while robbing someone.

God bought some awesome people in my life. They treat me just like family and love me for who I am.  God knew exactly what and who I needed in my life.

My mother's mom died, a couple of years later. She left me a letter in her bible, which was mailed by my mother. She wrote asking me to forgive her on how she treated me, and that she was proud of me.  The letter didn't make me feel any different, because when I found God, I forgave her and the rest of the family a long time ago. At my last visit to my mom's house, she cried and hugged me for a long time. My brother recently had a baby, that is the same color as myself, and before I left I silently prayed over her. I don't want her to feel like her skin has to be a certain color to fit into a family and be loved. 

I am no longer this dark object that anyone didn't want, but I am loved, blessed, and beautiful.   I have learned to embrace me, and all my flaws.

I am now a therapist to some of the richest people in Beverly Hills. 




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