I Should Have Left

I should have left.
Early on.
You know that moment — when something inside you shifts. When a line gets crossed, a boundary quietly gets stepped over, and your whole body whispers, “danger… danger…”
But the whisper isn’t as loud as your brain screaming, “But I love him.”

I should have left.

I should have left when he became the only person I had.
Everyone was suddenly gone, and somehow I never noticed the slow disappearing until right now. I was estranged from my family — not because of him, but because of their racism. Their bullshit pushed me out, and honestly, I needed that space to realize just how toxic they were. So no, I won’t blame him for my family.
But my friends?
Why did they fade?
Because I should have left.

I should have left the first time another woman openly disrespected me.
I should have left when conversations stopped the second I walked by.
I should have left when I felt people laughing at me.

I should have left when you cheated.
I should have left when you got aggressive just to intimidate me.
I should have left when you slept with someone at my job and left me to carry the embarrassment.

I should have left the night you screamed while I cried telling you I was pregnant.
I should have left when you left me at a restaurant while I was in labor.
I should have left when you told me you’d make my baby hate me.
I should have left when the light in my eyes faded.
When joy stopped living in my chest.
When I disappeared.

Why didn’t I leave?
Why didn’t I love me?
Why didn’t I realize I deserved better?

I did everything right — everything you wanted. I dressed how you liked. I spoke how you preferred. I shrank myself to fit your comfort.
But why didn’t I care about my own comfort?
My own happiness?
Why was I so against saving myself?

Here’s the truth:
I’m not even mad at you.
I deflated parts of this story — removed the pieces no one should ever have to endure — but anger isn’t what I feel.
Because I stayed.

You kept showing me exactly who you were.
Over and over.
And I refused to accept it.

I stayed when you told me you didn’t want me.
I stayed when you said I was nothing.
I stayed when you said you could do better.
I stayed when you admitted you lied.
I stayed.

What I needed wasn’t him.
What I needed was a mother — or at least someone who cared enough to grab my shoulders and say,
“Girl. Wake up. He is a loser.”

I needed a cheer squad.
I needed someone to clap for me when I got my first apartment, my first condo, my promotions, my babies.
I needed someone to say,
“You’re doing this. You’re becoming someone.”

Instead, I had CaféMom and MySpace — back when the internet still felt like a neighborhood, not a maze of strangers and noise.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I realized:
Women still need that.
Support, guidance, mentorship, a soft place to land, a safe place to be seen, and a community that actually shows up.

So I built it.

Fem Life Management.
A space for women — just women.
A place where you can find someone who understands.
A mentor who has lived through it.
A coach who can grow you.
A marketplace to support you.
A community that claps when you rise.

You might not see it all yet — it’s still new, still growing — but you just walked through my past with me. You felt the parts of my story where I should have had someone. You saw the gaps I had to survive alone.

Now imagine a world where no woman has to fill those gaps by herself.

That is the vision.

We go through so much in this life.
It’s easier when you’re not doing it alone.
And I know exactly what it feels like to be alone.
I built Fem Life so you don’t have to be.