Omo x10000

Faith over fear

Love over all

For some reason, those stickers are clear as day in my head. I don’t have them anymore but I remember them vividly. Thinking of them now is like a sucker punch to my chest. They remind me of who I’ve lost. I remember how you designed them as a reminder. A reminder for me to remember what mattered when it got tough to pick. Sadly, I didn’t.

If you’ve read my previous blogposts, you’ll know that my writings are usually cutthroat and real. I usually make my ropes out of carefully constructed sentences and I engage them in dragging those “I get coconut head” people. Well this time, nothing has changed. Today is another dragging session. The only difference is, I’m (one of) the recipient(s).

Just two blogposts ago, I asked how one could learn to love again after being badly hurt. I asked to be pointed in the direction of proper healing processes. I didn’t get anything concrete (I’m glad to be sharing the blame with the 180 people that read that post about cake😌) and it finally came to bite me in the ass.

You see, every morning I woke up, I unconsciously told myself “You’re the realest nigga on your team. No one got you like you do” then I went about my day. I used to think that no amount of pain nor person could ever crash my wall. The highest it/they would do was make a hole in it and I was readily armed with my cement to plaster it back. Nothing could really hurt me. Yeah I did feel sad about how people were shitty but underneath it all, I expected it. I would go through the worst kind of things, sulk for a while, give myself a tight hug with a pat on the back and then get moving. That was my coping mechanism.... Just keep moving or as Dorothy said in Little Nemo, just keep swimming.

A couple of weeks ago, I finally came to a halt. My world tilted on its axis then came to an abrupt stop. If I could do anything different from that night, I would have definitely gone to bed early. It would have probably delayed the inevitable but I would have still bought more time. My decision that day caused me to actually survey my surroundings rather than continue my previous passive aggressive approach. I noticed a lot of unpacked baggage I constantly moved around with on my trip called life. The more issues I encountered, refused to address and subsequently suppressed, the more Louis Vutton (we only do premium boo) travelling suitcases I acquired.

After that incident, I was finally forced to unpack and painfully go through them all. My ball of sunshine came into my life and I am so thankful that she is the easiest person to talk to. I am really thankful for you Mimi. You make it all

easier.

Someone asked me the other “After therapy, what next?”. Well, I have absolutely no idea. Maybe I’ll find my Mickey Mouse backpack in one of the suitcases (It had a huge ass Mickey Mouse character attached to it and I really loved that bag. I only carried it to school once. Other nights, I cuddled up with it and burrowed my face into its arms to distract myself from the monsters under my bed. I had to leave it behind when I was 8). Maybe I’ll also find the green diary I was given by my mum’s colleague for my 11th birthday that I lost four years later. Maybe I’ll find every other thing I had lost and missed terribly over the years but had no idea where to search for (I hope you all know this is figurative sha).

I really hope I find everything I am searching for. Maybe I actually won’t. Still, my shoulders would finally relax and I would be able to go to a cafe and have a cup of coffee without worrying that my bags would be stolen.

Anyway, whatever you do, don’t be a Lelo. Sort your issues and traumas immediately. Know your triggers. Don’t send peoples children on “the book of no return”. It is premium witchcraft behaviour. If you currently practice it (Anita John!!!!), repent now.

P.S: Isn’t this picture of my older brother the absolute cutest? I’m in love!!!!

Till we meet again, I remain yours.