Staying Strong and Battling On

Staying Strong and Battling On

image

      Every day is a battle, everyday is a struggle, but that’s what life is really. Pushing beyond the bumps and the hounds towards that ‘Forever after’ that we hope exists. Every single individual has his battle- Some are greater than others, while some are less; some are outward, while some are within. We fight some together, others we do alone. But to go through it with a smile takes great strength and courage. The moment, you can look into the mirror and say,
“I’m not fine, but I will be; this is a battle and I will win”,
Then you are one step closer to that  ‘real happiness’.

Most people who’ve gone through depression know what it’s like- all the pancake and concealer to cover up the never ending dark circles due to too little sleep and the never ceasing tears that happen to pour out for reasons unknown. It is frustrating to not have an explanation for why you feel a certain way, or even for the tears. The mind is racing a million to one, you just cant get a grip.

I’m supposed to say that it’s going to be fine, but it’s not. It does get worse, a whole lot worse. You forget what it feels like to be happy, you let yourself go cause you just don’t care anymore. The walls are closing in and you’re your biggest enemy.

But here is the awesomeness of this world, you don’t have to go through it alone. I know, easier said, but really- there are 7 billion people in this world (approximately) and I tell You that someone, somewhere knows exactly what you are going through; someone is willing to listen, someone has got it worse than you (it’s true).

So, the next time the blues are beginning to kick in, just pick up the phone and send an SOS – “I’m NOT FINE”; that’s all you need. I bet the ones closest to you sense something is wrong and maybe they’re just waiting for you to ask for their help and they’ll literally come running. If you don’t want to call, write it on a note pad or a sticky note and place it somewhere they are sure to find it.

And that’s the second step, ‘accepting we need help’; the first of course is denial. Now, I’m at liberty to say it will get better because you have accepted that you’re not fine but you”ll be. I know how hard it is to admit, but only the strongest admit their weakness cause they know it won’t break them. In the meantime, stay strong and have a wonderful weekend
Sticks & Stones

Advertisements
No Love lost…

No Love lost…

                The past few days have been a bit intense on my writing process, (you can see that from my recent posts), time to lighten things up with a little cheesy poem, if you don’t mind…

I feel like a cheesy romantic
Writing love poems about a love-
That was never really mine;

But the memories make me smile
And that is better than enough
In the end, Some stories-
are better as memories
Ours sure was…
And the reality?
It’s overrated

Dignified response to a Disgraceful gossip

Dignified response to a Disgraceful gossip

image

I have a dislike to gossip. Does that mean I hate gossips? Of course not. We have all sadly fallen into the traps of gossiping. I get it, something’s are so good when you hear them that you just can’t swallow it alone, it has to be shared with someone else who then shares it with another someone and the cycle goes on and on. Sometimes, we don’t even stop to think if it’s true or not, we just can’t wait to get it off our chests. So yeah, I get it, but what we don’t realize is the effect it has on the person being gossiped. May be it’s true, its something they had done in the past. Some thing they wish they hadn’t, but they did. It doesn’t do to go about tarnishing their present just because of a silly thing they did in the past. And if it’s false, what does that make us? Going around spreading things that turn out to be untrue, liars?

About some days ago, my friend/Sister heard a thing that I wish she hadn’t. Being a half Nigerian, half Indian, a lot of Tribalist Nigerian girls look at her as downright trashy ( personally, I think they wish they were her). Being a mixture of two rich cultures, no doubt about it she is beautiful. She often has earphones in her ears (even when she’s not listening to music), so unintentionally, a lot of people automatically think she is listening to music or whatever even when she’s not

Well, she was sitting in school during a break with her earphones plugged in (but off), when 3 Nigerian girls passed her. And voila, the gossiping began, not knowing she could hear them.

One of them began,
“is this the xxx that everyone says is really beautiful, she doesn’t look fine to me at all”. “She has a nice shape they say,I don’t see it”. “Oh she’s the one that chases men around” “I don’t know what they see in her” …

                   A few other things were said that I can’t remember.

                  Lord knows how my friend felt when she heard those things said about her that were false. Just rumors that people cooked up to make themselves feel better. She pretended like it was nothing and shrugged the rumors off, but I know she felt bad. And she didn’t say anything to the girls, she could have, but she didn’t. She knew they didn’t know she was listening, so she shut them up in a discreet way and went about her way. While they were still talking, she saw a familiar face passing and called out to her, that made the gossiping girls scurry along. Of course, they couldn’t say what they had just finished discussing to her face.

If it was you, what would you have done. Would you have taken the highroad and Let it be, would you have given them a dignified response, or would that have been a base for some serious mouth-fight?

Day 4: serially Lost

Day 4: serially Lost

She picks up the phome, ‘mama, I need help’ ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me’

She was trembling, shaking, barely getting the words out. Okay, I was trembling and shaking barely getting the words out. The tears were streaming out, my nose was clogged, and my head was spinning. I knew I couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t handle it. There is only so much a teenage soul can take. Teenage soul, or rather an adult soul, I was turning 18 that day.

For almost a week, I could barely hold myself together. A week of hell on earth. The only person I trusted enough was over a thousand miles away from me, my mother. I didn’t know what was happening. I wake up in the morning feeling good and then slip into the depressive cycle. I was way behind In school- I stopped going to school. Nothing felt right anymore. I could barely eat, I was losing weight ( which at the time I thought was the only good thing, to become slim again).

“Baby, breathe” …
Stop crying and explain to me, what’s going on?”
Mama, I don’t know”, I managed to say amid the sniffs

How do I explain to her, I feel like my head is about to explode, my body is trembling and I can’t stop crying. It’s been a week, I can’t stop! I can’t read, I can barely function properly. I get tired and agitated easily, the list goes on and on. Still, I managed to explain to the woman that gave birth to me, to the best thing I ever had, roughly what was wrong with me.

What could she do, she was in a different country. Maybe that was a good thing, seeing me In that state was sure to break her heart. Knowing I wake every morning with the hope of not making it through the day. I was prepared for the angel of death, or so I thought.

“Don’t cry, it’s going to be okay“, she says
Okay? Never in my life had I felt so lost as I did in those few days. And she says it’s going to be okay. And yet, whether I believed things will get better or not, there was something just so true in her voice, that I knew I wasn’t alone. It was time to find that lost soul.

Day 5: The tragedy of life…

Day 5: The tragedy of life…

image

The goal of today is “BE brief” which is something I find extremely hard. When it comes to writing, I tend to go overboard. But today, it’s time to change and try something new. A 100 word story- fingers crossed, here goes –

June 17′ 1960
The war has ended, the fight is over
My love I’m making my way back home
We’ve got independence, our nation a president
But joy ain’t for me till you say ‘I do’

Two days and I’m home
With Your ring- a ruby stone
The train arrives at one
I’ll be home before dusk

My dear please don’t fret
The war is gone, your love will be here.
To my dearest Mary Margaret

This was the letter I found at a drawer I just got from a yard sale. I thought it was oh so sweet, and then it hit me. On June 19 1960, there was a bomb blast on a train Set to arrive at one O clock. The tragedy of life….

Day 2: Ropes of the Past

Day 2: Ropes of the Past

There is no place like home. Tabu knew that saying better than anyone else. She felt the meaning deeply and it stung her every time. If only… If only she hadn’t listened to those busy body so called friends of hers then maybe, her home would still be… No, she snaps herself out of the delusion. She could blame them all she wanted but in reality it was all her fault. That still didn’t stop her from remembering her home, what it felt like being where she could call her own.

Stepping into the gigantic black colored gate which towered in front of the duplex house, now her house, she automatically felt safe. With the sharp pointed spikes and electric wires that ran around the house, she knew only a fool would try to break in. It made her feel special that she was worth so much guarding, oh how naive she was then,

On her right, as she walked into the compound, was a small garden filled with flowers of different colors and type. She hated the mosquitoes that came with having flowers in the house so she wasn’t really trilled. What she’d give now to see those flowers again.

Read more

Cry For Help

Cry For Help

image

It’s closing in
The walls; they’re coming down
On me
I’m freaking out
Inside; but they can’t hear
A thing
I’m trying hard
Not to sink, but floating
Isn’t my thing
I’m losing faith
Save me; I can’t save
My skin
Hear my cry
For help; set me free
From this
I’m losing grip
Fading into the blur-
That tirelessly wants me
It’s closing in
Hear my cry for help
Save me free.

Prologue: Rebelling to Survive

Prologue: Rebelling to Survive

My name is Ameena and this is my story. I am an 18 year old 3rd year medical student or rather I was. A few months ago, I was forced by my parents into a marriage which I do not want. I had two choices, accept the marriage proposal, go through with it and spend the rest of my life miserable and suffering just like all the other Nigerian women I’ve seen but still have my family. Or I could run away with no help and little money and stand for what I believe in. I chose the latter.

I had about a thousand dollars which I had saved up in the past few years. I am now in Sudan where I school, or rather used to, in hiding. I don’t know who to trust here and certainly don’t plan on going back to Nigeria. My friends have abandoned me after various tricks to force me back home to my sealed fate. The embassy has been informed to deport me upon sight stating I am a mentally unstable girl whose parent wants her back home. As Sudan is a ‘so called’ Islamic country, it doesn’t care about the rights of a child, whatever my parents agree is how it will be.

I am running out of money and disguise. My anti depressants and anxiety pills are finished and I am scared of getting into a panic attack anytime soon. I’m running out of legal options to sustain my self cause the place I’m managing to rent has taken up all of my money. I can’t return back to to the gruesome fate that awaits me. I’ve seen what happens to girls who runway from arranged marriages. The torture they are forced to endure upon their return Is intolerable. They break you down mentally and physically up until the point you begin to believe it truly is your fault.

Read more

10 things I hate about YOU

10 things I hate about YOU

image
I hate that you make me talk so much
Deep down I forget I’m drowning

I hate that you make me wish my life
Was a fairy tale now happening

I hate that you make ridiculous jokes
Which still don’t stop me from laughing

I hate that you apologize profusely
Even when I’m the one who’s done wrongly

I hate that you know me so well
You could write my biography

I hate that you know just the right thing to say
When my world is spinning around me

I hate that you make me so comfortable
That I spill to you my darkest secrets

I hate that you love the one thing I love-
You share my love for poetry

I hate that you call right when I’m bored
Like we share some telepathy

I hate that you make me still love you
Even though you’re now just a memory…
You are my favorite memory

Bring Back Our Girls: 5 months; An enraged citizen

Bring Back Our Girls: 5 months; An enraged citizen

image

I belong to a country whose president cares more about campaigning for re-election (despite the massive failure of his two terms) than finding and bringing back over 200 abducted teenage girls. Yes, not one or even two, but over two hundred teenage girls were abducted from their school in the north-eastern part of Nigeria; today marks 150 days since their abduction and still, Nothing. I can’t begin to phantom what the families of these girls are going through. Protests upon protests, mass media coverage, international celebrity involvement, UNICEF- have all spoken out and are enraged in the abduction of the Girls and yet, all we got from the presidential villa was a speech by the First Lady filled with previously unimaginable grammatical blunders and fake tears.
image
For a country known to be the Giant of Africa, this is a huge embarrassment and a disgrace. Just because these girls come from lower class or rural areas doesn’t mean they don’t deserve the highest amount of effort into finding them. Five months! Lord only knows the physical, mental and psychological trauma those girls are going through right now.

Everyday, I log onto twitter and I see the hashtag ‘ForwardNigeria’ stating the improvement in our agricultural sector, revenue generated from oil export, new infrastructures. But in my eyes, there is no forward without those girls. Over 200 girls can’t just vanish and then be swept under the rug. No! If ever there is a justification for being enraged, then this is it. The lack of effort by the presidency in finding those girls is pathetic. They “say” they are trying, but come on, it’s been 5 MONTHS.

It is my duty and your duty as individuals, especially citizens of Nigeria to speak out, voice your airs on the lack of sufficient action in finding the girls. Use the hashtag #BringBackOurGirls and spread the word. We owe it to those girls to make sure they are not forgotten.
image