For some daft reason, I will start with an apology for ghosting you readers for most part of the year gone. Indeed, the days were long (extraordinaire); and before we knew it, the year gone. But was it that short?
Mathematically speaking, 2020 lasted approximately 24 months and 969 years. In religious language, this translates to all the suns and moons that Methuselah lived through. Financially, it was a year of lean returns and socially, the interactions were (close to ) nil for the better part of the year. And yet we lived through it and are part of a generation that will live to tell other generations all about it. Shall we raise our glasses in gratitude? It was undeniably a unique year and we learnt (rather quickly) that there was always a different way of doing things. That it was possible to press a pause button on calendars and timelines because health came before all else. That it was possible to actually work remotely and that probably, social gatherings were overrated. In all these, we rethought strategies and reorganized plans because at the end of the day, life had to go on.
For those of us to whom motherhood was thrust upon; amid everything but the fullness of time. Because birth control failed, or something went wrong somewhere, or our partners (in leisure and pleasure) were everything but ready. And because of the immaturity of time, they turned their backs on us- leaving us with nothing but a broken skeleton of hopelessness for a support system.
For those of us to whom motherhood came as an answered prayer. After countless nights of silent invocation to the Lord amidst despair and mockery. From invested in-laws who wouldn’t give us a moment’s peace, and folks of this world who, many a times, broke us into a thousand pieces with words that were so innocently said,yet so deleterious to our ears. Because every single time they reminded us that it was time to stop denying their son the joy of fatherhood; or that it was time to let the world see the fruits of your womb; it reminded you of the yearning of your womb and the bareness of time!
Welcome to my small ted talk today. Been feeling a little extra on this love topic lately- call me cupid (ess)*
We do not look for partners to complete us; rather to complement us. How true, and yet how false at the same time. The younger me would object… I would say that we choose partners (whether for relationships or occasional trysts) who make us whole; in the sense that with and around them, we feel ‘more of what we are’, more complete, more accomplished, happier, more alive and everything admirable. The me (now) would concur. I would say that before you know who you wholly are outside of someone else, you will never find any form of completeness from another. That being in any relationship will not make you any happier if you are not already happy with yourself. My point here is that it is only when we are comfortable with who we are that we can truly function independently and in a healthy way in our relationships.
It started on one fine evening in the beginning of time; when the clock stood still for a moment and it occurred to me that this was THE one. He ticked every box (at least then) and it was clear in my head that this was the ‘IT’.
Over the next many months, I talked to him all day long; and spoke about him at every available opportunity- accorded and un-accorded alike. I am fine became a response of old and I quickly picked to… ‘The going is great, I am so in love and by the way I am also getting married soon🥰’. Depending on my own judgement of how much time you had for our chat, I would happily tell you about where it all started in the beginning of the end of my throne as the self-appointed ambassador of the “Men are trash” campaign. I would reintroduce myself as a pro bono advisor regarding the doctrine of ‘one true love’ and ‘good men still exist’ and ‘chivalry is not dead’. I stayed besotted, nice and doting on this Man who was showing me love and care in a way that I never thought I was deserving of; just a girl so gleefully optimistic of the promise of an unending love. Still.
Please go back and see the five words before I inserted, in brackets *at least then * in paragraph one above.
Does he still tick every box? Absolutely! But over and above that, he also came with some extras/accessories which, not few a times, rile me to the last bone. This compact set of flaws that I had not subscribed to. Hold that thought!
*9 August 2020.
Today is special! It’s experiential day. You may, or may not know, but we are currently undertaking premarital counselling classes. Me, mine: Another Five and Theirs. I don’t know about them but I am about to ‘my husband’ people to death. Let me consult with my husband, I will say. My husbae had a similar experience, I will chip into conversations unapologetically. Excuse me for a few minutes, my husband is calling me… my husband this, my husband that, my husband here and my husband there.
Welcome on-board and once again- congratulations on your new role. Be it a promotion at work, a switch of careers or organizations or you are kick-starting your career. While this can be a very exciting experience, it comes with a lot of anxiety and uncertainties and here’s why…
You will have moments of immense self-doubt.
Between figuring out your new role and getting to master it, there will be moments of unadulterated self-doubt. On one hand, you want to be the ‘wow’ newbie and on the other hand you are starting to realize that eeerm, green is what you feel: majorly because there is a whole lot of learning, unlearning and relearning ahead of you. You find yourself constantly trading between trying to demonstrate that you are up to the task and figuring out what you are meant to do, how best to do it and how to create your space within the system.
He had the type of face one could easily forget even when looking at it. But he also had a manly demeanor that intrigued her. For the next couple of months after meeting (in no manner that called for tea to tell), she found herself mesmerized by this manly-yet paradoxical-demeanor. He was neither polite nor impolite in his approach, neither too much in giving of his attention nor too thirsty for her attention either, neither express about his intentions with her nor vague in his actions that to any rational human implied his intention. In a nutshell, he was neither here nor there right from the word go. Difficult to read; and a man wrapped in mystery is worth a fantasy trip, no? she thought in awe.
Between my last post in October last year and now, I traveled to the moon, passed by hell, got stuck in my own space for a moment and now I am back on earth, back down to earth; no pun intended. (Sips tea). Okay, what I am saying in many words is that a lot happened between then and now; but that is no excuse for my inconsistency. This year, (and I like to keep my word), will see a lot of consistency from me.
Anywho, somewhere in my roller-coaster, I found myself in this heart to heart tête-à-tête. I don’t know how we ended up in the part of what we could have done differently….like if you knew what you know now, what would you have done differently.
Nothing, I said. I think in life, there are no misplaced steps…..we need all of them; I added.
I miss her in big portions. Some days more than others 😦 !
Before our birthdays nowadays, we (generation Y and Z kids) have this thing we call #birthdaymonth and #birthdayweek. I tell you this because July was my birthday month and 9th July 2018 was the beginning of my birthday week. My grandmother took her last breath on this day-9th July 2018.
Our conversations never had any order in particular, but there was the general flow. That she would see me from as far as the gate and call me by name. That we would exchange pleasantries and then out of the blues she would say…
“I am here where you left me waiting for my day, or ‘this my body does not have energy, my eyes can’t see anymore, my feet can no longer take me to the farm”.
It was always hard for me to believe her. It is difficult to believe that the woman who called you by name from miles away could possibly fault her eyesight.
It’s with this same difficulty that I received the news of her demise. (more…)
The experiences here may be personal, but the truths are universal. For the girls waiting on their men, the girlfriends trying to keep their men, the married women tolerating their men, the divorcees who got fed up with their men; and the hopelessly enamored who can’t get enough of their men… For our men, the ones exhausted of trying too hard to please their women, the clueless ones riding in the tide trying to figure it out and the ones who found their perfectly imperfect match…this is to you! The six stages of relationships…
In the village where I was born and raised, being 25 was synonymous to ‘when I grow up’. After 25, therefore, the script was meant to change from ‘when I grow up I want to be XYZ’ to ‘I am that person I used to dream about’. There is the general delusion that between 25 and 30, life is about breakthrough after breakthrough, gaining identity (Both individually and by extension), happiness, success and every dream come true.
Nothing close. This age bracket is about excelling in your side hustle as the chief-chef of wrong choices and about perfecting the art of serving yourself with humble pies. Remember those childhood/campus days of ‘who? Me? I can never do that, my pride cannot even let me think of such a thing and stuff like that? This phase makes you a master/mistress in the art of eating that pride with quiet manners.
Quarter life crisis…
Dating: If you are not already married or dealing with baby daddy/baby mama issues; you are most likely stuck in your love life.