All in the head...

You do not know real fear till you start suicide-proofing your house. Taking drastic measures to keep yourself safe from yourself, sounds weird but very real.

You know you do not want to. You are sure you love life but you are afraid that it can snap, the darkness will take over and you will lose control.

No one understands. Not even the doctors. They tell you it’s the normal blues but you know what they do not know. You know how damaged your mind is. You know the struggles, the things you do to stay sane. The challenges you currently face that make those things impossible. What they do not know is that this is not who you want to be. They do not know its not the drama you enjoy, they do not understand how badly you fight what they call ‘drama’.

They do not know that all you need is peace and no one can give that peace.

PS: This is not a suicide note. If you cannot reach me, I’m probably sleeping human sleep.

Much ado about my Daddy...

There was a point in my life I dwelled on my Dad’s imperfections and it held me back from being expressive to this wonderful man that has stood up for me in all things.

One would think he did something terrible. It was one kain small beef but it was actually because I got punished for something I didn’t do. So following advice, I took some time and talked to him about it. Funny enough, the incident was still on his mind. He explained carefully why I got punished. He had done that explanation before but I was a kid back then and it just didn’t make sense and it made me a very withdrawn and mistrusting child and I told him so. He said that is why he still remembers because he feels guilty he passed the message the wrong way. The reason I got punished was because I let the other kid outsmart me not because he believed the tales the kid brought back. Finally it made sense.

My Dad is a sweet soul actually.  He is passionate and kind. Issues that bother people worry him more. He’s not so old school as I thought he was when I was a kid. He is strict, frugal and a disciplinarian.

I got my first financial advice from my Dad. Well, I interpreted it as best as my 5 year-old head could and I got one of those old white Curry containers and recruited 2 more kids into my Esusu (savings) group. So we split our N2 church offering which we were sure of every Sunday into and saved half inside the Curry Container and I kept it as the Group Head. My Dad said to save for project so I was saving and will figure out the project later. Maybe it was how we stopped whining about going to church that alerted the parents or the fact that my CBN was my Dad’s last drawer. We got found out. The punishment was our money was confiscated. That day I learned a lesson in corruption.

I love my Dad, a lot. When I was about getting married, it mattered to me so much that my Dad was cool with my husband and for some reason, it clicked. My Dad loves my husband so much that sometimes I think more than he loves me…nah, I refuse to get jealous. Both of them are calm and brilliant but very very different.

Today is about my Daddy, my number one Dede. The man who flogged me sore as a kid yet took me to the best schools of his time, my first teacher, the man who has never been disappointed in me even when I make mistakes. I wasn’t an easy child to deal with. I was a quiet child who refused to communicate and would run away from the house often when I wasn’t comfortable (luckily to our Country home). Daddy always believed there was a method to my madness.

My Dad taught me to read, to stand up for myself and to be anything I want to be, to desire greatness in life, to reach and keep reaching. Some years back, I used to think my parents were projecting their dreams through me but then I realised one thing, I’ve never been coerced. It has always been about giving me options, trusting me and letting me be whoever I wanted to be.

Happy Father’s Day…next year will be better.

From the archives... (2)

So I promised that every week till the end of May, I'll put out tidbits of stuff I wrote a long time ago.  I wrote tons of stuff (Most of which I have deleted) in my Facebook notes. This was written on the 4th of May, 2010. Violence is bad. People die from it. As a kid, stories were told of people who died merely cos someone pushed them and they fell not knowing they had underlying illnesses. I simply believe people who indulge in violence despise themselves. Why go to jail when you can be free? In school, violence appeared cool. people were mobbing people, girls were beating up girls for boys. If you say you've never fought, you'll get mocked to the heavens and back. Somehow my silence on the matter saved me the trouble cos I truly believe I can slap you and you'll now come and die, then I'll go to jail just like that? nah B! That's not in my life's plan. I'm going to go to the ICC/ICJ to do great stuff.
I was taught as a kid never to fight. My folks believe talking solves everything. Maybe that's why I became a lawyer. If I like you, I can talk you to death (not literally). At a point I believed I could talk my way to heaven. All I needed to do was to convince Jesus and Jehovah that everything was done for good :)


So here it is;

The Break Up

I don’t want this life, I'm not sure I do. Writing letters or notes never works. It'll always be misconstrued. This is what happens. He thinks he's in my head. He thinks he sees my thoughts ahead of me. We no longer communicate...what do you tell a man who says he can hear your thoughts?

I watch him march around the house...I slither into a corner looking round like prey caught by the tail. I watch the Fridge slam shut, I shiver.

It’s another morning, my mind is frantic...can hear it whirring, what do I say to him? He mustn’t suspect...he mustn’t know I’m out of his mental trap.

I switch on my robot mode...he's back to the bed. He fumbles with my body, am detached...I watch him from eyes unseen. She moves unspoken feeling his engorged member. I feel her struggle for words but none seems appropriate. He mounts her. My heart wails for her. In a few moments, it’s over.

I move back in, I console her. He mustn’t know the torture's almost over.

Am exchanging certainty for uncertainty. They don’t understand. Am not seeking for what’s better cos I wont know it when i see it. My mind's muddled though made up. I've seen no greener pastures. Am shedding my fear.

He's up. Straight to the bathroom to clean up. I hear the water running. It’s stopped. He's getting out...out the front door. I’m glad. Hmmm! A sigh of relief.

Relaxation, my thoughts flow, intertwining with each other...I hear a sound, he's back.

He talks, I can’t hear him. It’s disturbing. I can’t be in a room with him for too long without feeling there's something I must do to stop him being angry. But I never know what i should do. I don’t feel at home. I'll definitely let go.

'Yes baby, alright' I switch on my autopilot. How long it will last, I can’t tell.

The War Room Palaver...

Been seeing a lot of tweets and talk on the Internet about War Room.

To be honest, I’m confused. Are you all sure it is the same movie I saw that you saw?

On one hand are the women getting very upset that War Room provides an excuse for cheating and irresponsible men while on the other hand are those happy that they’ve found a tool to keep an irresponsible man in check. Nah B, that isn’t what I saw.

The War Room I sat down to see was a about a woman who outsourced her happiness and the joy of her life to her husband so much so that she paid little or no attention to the cute angel she carried for Nine months. She needed/wanted her husband to ‘see’ her so badly. She craved his constant attention and needed so much to plan everything with him and wanted his approval so badly.

Of course, it was not forthcoming so it always got her riled up, absorbed in it and led to so many fights till she met this older lady (a praying woman) who became a mentor. This older lady told her she wished she knew what she knew now; the years she spent fighting and troubling her soul, would have been spent in so much peace and self-fulfilment so she has taken it upon herself to mentor younger ones to prevent same errors.

(Lesson 1: Not everyone needs to know your business, just the ones who genuinely will solve your problems)

The older lady took her on a self-finding journey. A journey to learn to pay more attention to herself, her child and build on her life cos the home battles were affecting her career. She was so focused on her husband that she talked about him at work and stuff. Selling houses became an issue.

This woman taught her how to pray for herself, for her family (generally), then what to pray regarding her husband. She didn’t tell her to pray her husband doesn’t cheat or to pray her husband starts loving her. There was a prayer and it struck me. It went thus; “Whenever my husband is thinking of doing something unlawful, expose him”. If you are reading this, this is the best and worst prayer anyone can pray for anyone who’s cutting corners.

(Lesson 2: Do not outsource your happiness. Focus on you)

So this lady placed her focus on herself and her daughter. She became happier, started glowing and the husband got suspicious but she was not fazed. Notice that her daughter became happier too? The house wasn’t filled with shouting or angry people. Notice when she saw the text proofs her friend sent her about Uncle’s sleazy ways and ignored it and Uncle was busy lying his way out till he figured she had caught him red-handed and man got scared she was going to poison him but she just ignored his foolishness? Boo, that was not her giving him a pass. That was her showing ‘I can exist without you but if you want to destroy yourself, I’m not helping you have an excuse’. She was genuinely happy with herself and he wasn’t a problem to her anymore. #Winning!

(Lesson 3: Foolish people do foolish things)

Uncle was busy skimming off work, lying to his work people and not bringing in gains and playing with company business. (I feel one of his slighted chicks gave him up). His office not only sacked him but also was going to prosecute him for fraud. Our guy became humble. You know everyone becomes religious when they’ve fucked up their lives. His ‘humbility’ was overflowing. Remember that prayer? Y’all really thought it was for cheating? Nah B! That prayer screwed his fake life up and helped him become a better human being to the community not just his family.

Let me also say this, War Room is directed as women as much as guys. It is as much a ‘be careful to guys’ as it is ‘don’t mortgage your joy’ to women.

Nobody is saying watch ‘War Room’ when someone is pummelling you. Don’t be foolish abeg, run without looking back. I don’t know what it feels like hitting someone (even ordinary slap, I never give before) but I can tell you being hit isn’t pleasurable. Just do what is best for you.

Imaginations...

In another world I could be different people.

One would be a Bible totting, praise-singing preacher with a megaphone standing by your window and bellowing on you to accept Christ or burn in everlasting hell while picking her way through the condoms littered on the street.

Now that I mention it, I have actually done that before as a kid. It was called ‘Morning Cry’ back in my days. Everyone in my neighbourhood knew I was the ‘Morning Cry’ girl and boys stayed away because I was often armed with one Scripture Union leaflet or the other to start my preaching. Made my parents comfortable and lessened the pressure of having ‘the talk’.

The irony of this all was I liked reading as a kid so I read everything from Lady Bug books through Sweet Valley High series straight up to James Hardley Chase and the Complete Works of Shakespeare.  The day I went looking for more reading materials, I discovered Ikebe Super then I got hooked and henceforth rearranged my finances to include a weekly purchase of Ikebe Super, Hints, Hearts and Better Lovers. Safe to say I ‘backslided’ in the things of the Lord.

That brings me to who I could have been in another world. I could have been ‘Ona’ the goddess with the olive black skin holding a Burlesque performance in the showy Parlours of Vegas or New York. It’s so serious that I chose a name sef…

I could have also been ‘Angelique’ a sleek curvy multi-lingual Escort who is actually a government spy. She has her ways with men in authority and milks their secrets and their money while at it.

My imaginations will fill a 100-page book. I’ve got two more weeks of boredom. I should totally pen down my random thoughts on Christian Grey, Sex and BDSM.