Write to heal (3 )

Write to heal (3 )

On some mornings, you wake up completely paralysed on the inside. It feels like you’re lying under a pile of huge rocks and  there isn’t much you can do about it. That’s the kind of morning-turned-day I’m having. 

I rolled out of bed (literally) and stood in the shower for about 30 minutes doing nothing. There’s something very soothing about hot water running over your body; especially in the morning.

Anyway, after the shower, I sat on my bed and opened my instagram notifications. And both my siblings had posted about my father, and how it’s been two months since we buried him. He was lifting one of my baby nieces in the picture. He looked so happy. And then I involuntarily started thinking about him, not the wisest thing to do before a work day, but I couldn’t help it.

Anyway, I’ve been experiencing a myriad of emotions since November. To begin with, I was struck with terrible anxiety; the kind that kept me awake for over a month and killed my appetite for everything except KFC  (because fried chicken cures everything). Over time, that anxiety morphed into numbness. I think this has something to do with the fact that I had to go back to work which meant feigning some sort of strength lest you totally break down. In any case, there’s only so long most people can tolerate basket cases for. It’s been 2 months for crying out loud, are you seriously still crying?

And then there was the guilt. Guilt I was eventually made to realise was unwarranted. I could have gotten to the hospital sooner. I could have been the last person he saw before he closed his eyes. Instead, I was fast asleep because the doctors saw no need to let us know he was in critical condition. And when they eventually decided to move him to ICU, I didn’t get there fast enough. I was a few minutes too late. On the one hand, I know i said goodbye. I hugged and kissed him the last time i saw him four days before he died and that’s extremely comforting. I’ve always been so big on goodbye. I’m the kind of person who’ll reach the top of  the road and then turn back because I didn’t say goodbye. Thank God for that.

I dream about that morning many times a week, and each time, the outcome is different; he doesn’t die, he bounces back like he always did in the past.

Some days are worse than others when you’re dealing with grief. And on those days, it’s best to allow it. Today is one of those days. And I’ve allowed it.

Write to heal (2)

Write to heal (2)

​I woke up feeling some type of way this morning. For starters, I barely got any sleep last night. There’s a giant-sized situation going on in my life at present and even though I know it’s imperative that I do, I really don’t have the emotional energy to address it. Not yet. Lately I’ve been feeling like everything takes way too much energy; energy I don’t have at the moment but am working hard to restore. So i guess we can rightfully say I’m taking a much needed break from life. People can be so exhausting sometimes.
It’s not the easiest thing in the world to explain though; why you choose not to show up to engagements for no particular reason, or why you do show up sometimes but won’t have much interaction with anyone because for some reason or other, your vocabulary has taken a french leave and you’ve forgotten every word you know.

The thing is, sometimes we spend so much time worrying about what others think and how they feel that we forget to do all the things we have to do for our own wellbeing. I’m guilty of this. I find myself showing up even when I don’t want to, even when it’s taking everything to be there. But it’s taken tragedy to make me realise that sometimes, it’s alright to stay back and take care of yourself. It’s okay to be a little bit selfish sometimes. It’s okay to take a moment to find your bearings, and then face the world again when you’re ready.

I’m also learning that it’s okay to be jealous with your energy. It’s okay to protect it, especially when it’s taken you a long time to charge it with positivity. Some people radiate so much negative energy and if you’re an empath like me, it’s okay to stay away from these people. In fact, it’s important and oh-so-necessary.

Remember, your emotional and mental wellbeing is just as important as your physical. So take care of yourself.

Have a ridiculously amazing week, friends!


Write to heal (1).

Write to heal (1).

​As human beings, we have a habit of walking away when our loved ones need us most. We are afraid of pain and seeing other people express it openly often unsettles us. We find ourselves unsure of what to say or do. And a lot of the time, that uncertainty keeps us away. “I’ll give them some time,” we say, “they’ll be alright.” My question today is, does this help? And why on earth do we think it does?

If you know me, you know I’d never cry in public. Not if there’s something I can do about it. Now during my father’s funeral,  i kept excusing myself from the crowd and locking myself in the bedroom to weep.

And when I was done, I’d wipe my tears,  wash my face and come back out to play host; poker face and all. I noticed more than a few people staring at my face, looking for signs of tears or some sort of emotion but I showed none. Because where I come from, you don’t show your emotions in public. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I was accused of strength as if it were a medal of honor. Once or twice, I explained that someone had to make sure everything was going okay considering there were only three of us hosting and attending to the hundreds of co-mourners. If I lost it, my mother and two siblings would probably lose it too. Then what? Another time, I nearly bit someone’s head off. But I won’t get into the details. People can be so insensitive.

Anyway, all through the four days, we received an overwhelming amount of support from our friends. Some of them dropped everything and sat with us all day and all night for the entire week, even after the funeral had ended. It’s the kind of thing none of us will ever forget. Thank you. To the people who have kept visiting us every day, calling us, bringing us food (because we haven’t cooked at all since it happened. Junk food has been our life), praying with us, praying for us;  Thank you so so much. For those who let us talk about our loved one (because that’s what our hearts need right now), thank you so much. My baby, Jojo, who held my hand for most of it, and let me cry on her shoulder even though she hates crowds and the tears probably made her uncomfortable, I have no words. But know that my heart fills up with gratitude when I think of you. But like you said, I’d have done the same thing for you.

I know it’s hard to be around sad people, and it’s hard to listen to the painful details of how we feel right now, but thank you for listening anyway, and for the words of encouragement  (for those who offer them). Thank you for holding our hands and helping us whenever and wherever you were able to.

We really really appreciate it.

Happy Endings.

“Come with every wound and every woman you’ve ever loved; every lie you’ve ever told and whatever it is that keeps you up at night. Every mouth you’ve punched in, all the blood you’ve ever tasted. Come with every enemy you’ve ever made and all the family you’ve ever buried and every dirty thing you’ve ever done; every drink that’s burnt your throat and every morning you’ve woken with nothing and no one. Come with all your loss, your regrets, sins, memories, black outs, secrets. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you”

It’s taken me twenty four years to realize that strength is not the absence of vulnerability but rather the ability to be in spite of it. A lot of us spend our lives trying to pretend we have no weak spots. I’m sure many people, like me, would rather everyone believed us to be made of stone; unbreakable, strong, super splendid lady cool we can’t even pretend to be.

I’ve been that way for as long as I can remember. In fact, I’m pretty sure none of my friends has EVER seen me cry. Does that mean I don’t cry, though? I wish! In fact I probably cry more than the average 24 year old female. And you know what I wish for every time that I cry? That it were someone’s’ shoulder I was crying on, instead of my pillow; that someone was hugging me instead of my teddy bear.
But the thought of letting someone “see beneath my beautiful” as it were, and then deciding they don’t like it terrifies me so much that it seems so much easier to carry my burdens on my own. So I hold everyone at arm’s distance and let them see only the beautiful.
The fear of rejection is real, apparently, and it holds us back from so much. Because the only thing worse than being hurt, is missing out on the joy of being loved both for who/what you are and who/what you are not. There’s no greater love than the love of a person who knows your good, your bad and your ugly and still thinks you are amazing. And every single person deserves this kind of love. The 1 Corinthians kind of love; the patient, kind, enduring, bears all things, believes all things and never fails kind of love.

Approximately two years ago, I made a promise to myself that no one would ever hurt me again. This decision sprouted from a series of events that happened between 2012 and 2013 which taught me that a lot of people were in your life when things were good but you could only count on a handful when it mattered. I must admit that this was quite a hard pill to swallow at the time. But over time, I learned to adjust my expectations of people. Ok, I lie. The truth is, I just learned not to expect anything from anyone. Which is how come everyone in my life ended up at arm’s distance. I powered through the setbacks and built a shield of armor around myself –a shield I wasn’t letting down for anything in the world.

68b0734182b31402287437f0e729c27cAm I a better person for it? Not even. As painful as disappointment may be, it doesn’t even begin to compare to the void created when you block everything out. Because what they don’t tell you is that when you shut off the hurt and pain, you shut of the joy and happiness too. We don’t get to pick and choose which emotions to feel and which ones not to. When it goes, it all goes. I thought I understood this, at the time. I thought I was okay with not feeling anything. The pain of my last heartbreak was so excruciating that being emotionless seemed like a good deal if it meant I’d never get hurt again.

But that was then. I take it back. I want my heart back. My poem-writing, voicenote-sending, have-a-nice-day-video-making, ranting, nauseatingly lovey-dovey heart back. Because deep down, I never stopped believing.


soundtrack: Lucky (Britney Spears)

Does anyone else feel completely let down when they share something extremely personal with someone and they act like you just said the sky is blue? I do. It actually makes me resent the person a little. Today wasn’t a good day. It’s just one of those years. The “big” one, if I can call it that. Why didn’t anyone tell us that growing up was so freaking complicated? Everything in my life seems to be going really well. So why does salt water from my eyes attack my pillow at night? Somebody make it stooooooop!

Where’s my glass of red?

dear you

I talked about you all day today; reminding myself of everything I have loved and will always love about you… My day started out really shitty but the more I talked, the better I felt. I think I forgot how well I knew you…how close we were. I haven’t thought about those things in a while. I laughed and smiled and cried all in the duration of that conversation. I’m surprised I didn’t give myself away. Or maybe I did. She just listened and asked questions and let me talk about the love of my life until I’d finally told her everything I knew and loved about you. I can’t believe I did that. My mother has a way of making me talk without saying a word. Bless her.
I woke up feeling like sugar (not). But I feel better now.

I love you always.

the days that turned to years…

They say the day you write your first poem is the day you start telling the truth… This was mine. I thought I’d share it with you.

14 months. 14 months without hearing your voice, seeing your smile, hearing your words of encouragement and your teasing. 13 months… Trying to forget your number, in vain. Dialling it and hanging up every time until I finally found the strength to stop dialling, even when I really wanted to. 12 months… Since I stopped seeing you when I closed my eyes every night; in that stranger across the street, in that car in front of the car in front of mine. 11 months… looking behind my shoulder as I crossed the street, afraid I might bump into you and undo all the progress I’ve made…
10months…wondering how you are, and what happened and why you didn’t want me…
9 months. Not wondering at all, and finally being glad it was all over.
8. since I hit delete on all those memories and pictures and letters… Since I accepted that even great things like you and I come to an end.
7 months since I let you go, like you never existed.
6 months since the day your name came up again in a conversation, and made my heart skip a beat. You were well. So it was well.
5 months
4 months
3… I started to wonder… what if I saw you again? Would I still love you? Would I… say hello with a shrug; like you were just any one; a someone or other I used to know? Would my heart
a beat?
Would my insides break out into song? And if you showed up on my wedding day? Would I say
I do?
2 months since I found you… And searched within myself for the courage to come and find you.
1 month one week and 3days since I found that courage… Only for it to disappear almost completely at the sight of you.
My legs went weak, my insides flattered and my heart
Its beat.
1 month since I found the courage to dial that number. Since I saw that message that morning. Since I heard
your voice
again… And saw that look in your eyes; the one I was sure I’d imagined.
3weeks since I realised I still loved you. And that I would always love you.
It’s been 3days 6 hours and 47 minutes…
since I found out you loved me too…
more than I’ll ever really know.
3 days 6 hours and 47 minutes since you breathed life back into my life and made me feel whole again. Since my heart started to beat again
Pumping warm blood around my body,
Melting all the ice that had grown around it away.
But who’s counting?

as seen from out here…

Sometimes we spend so long and so much trying to keep people out. To keep them from knowing that we’re soft and normal underneath it all… Just ordinary people trying to find somewhere to belong; somebody to identify with, relate to, belong to. We know not everybody should see our buttons but we’re not sure if anybody should at all. We’ve seen what the world is capable of… The world under the guise of a friend, a lover, someone who cares… And we like to think we’re above it all; to believe we see past the deceitful lies and pretentious smiles… And we don’t even realise that in the end, we’re the ones on the outside looking in… That we’ve effected the very outcome we were trying to avoid. Yes we’re safe in our little bubble of solitude. No back-stabbing. No hypocrisy. No drama. But we’re also completely alone. And looking for belonging. Somewhere. Something. Someone.

the starry-eyed dreamer

Love. Living with the vulnerability of giving someone access to the insides of your most delicate yet most vital organ. The heart. Opening yourself up to a world of emotion, good AND bad. A rollercoaster; a perfect blend of yellows and grays and highs and lows.
Wanting to shower this person with what little or what much you can, not for a moment holding back because they deserve it. At least you think they do. But the question is; where do you draw the line? How much will you give before this person gets comfortable in his/her “throne” of love and security, often forgetting to pull you up with them? And what happens when they do? (Okay we both know the answer to that. You eventually tire of being taken for granted etc). What happened to doing unto others as you’d have them do unto you?

Shall we conclude that the 2013 being doesn’t have the capacity (both moral and mental) to withstand love in its purest and most unrefined state; that you shouldn’t expose the depth of your emotions to your ‘significant other’ for fear that this might be your undoing-the beginning of the end?

What rubbish! Why let love be defined by what the other party can or can’t handle? It’s a choice we make and if they want to leave then let them leave. If we have to alter ourselves to fit someone else’s requirements, how is that love? Simple: it isn’t. The beauty of being unconventional and loved for it? That’s the love I want. The world can keep its “I love you but I’d love you more if…”. Don’t love me more! In fact, as a bonus, take the first instalment too. Add it to your ‘more’ and see if I’ll die.

once upon a breaking heart

I wonder if people realise what it takes for someone to hold out their hearts to them? You devote months, week, days, hours, precious seconds everyday to convince this person that you’ll handle their heart… that you can take care of it and they can trust you with it. You’re encouraging and wonderful. Right until they actually hold out the said organ of mass destruction. Suddenly its frightening. A threat. A commitment you’re not sure you’re ready for. A reminder of that time not so long ago when someone ripped yours out and threw it halfway across the globe. And your words, those sweet sweet melodious sounds of love, and care and strength evaporate into nothing. Sweet nothings. A bunch of things you probably said to make yourself smile. Because when they smile, you smile. You’ve hit the target, you nearly yelp as you prance and preen. All the while, they hug their pillow as they fall asleep. Wishing you were there. I wonder if people know that people pray for them even more than they pray for themselves. That they’ve fixed their broken trust as best they can because you’ve ‘shown’ them you’re worth it… That its taken EVERYTHING to just reach out…
I wonder if people know how much it takes to trust someone with your broken heart. Coz if they did, they’d know that you’ve given them the only thing that’s really yours. And they’d value it.