Tuesday, November 25, 2014

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!

Living in a developed country has a billion perks and maybe a thousand downsides. I don't care to go into details of pros and cons. Just want to talk about the way we walk on eggshells here. I appreciate a lot of the courtesies, and I have learnt to speak more conservatively and respectfully.

In my home country, people call people fat. They use words like retard and imbecile to refer to people with autism. Mental illness is more often than not summed up as madness. Depression and anxiety are laughed at. In fact, in the face of this blatant ignorance, the people living with mental health problems begin to question the reality of their illness.

People don't say "hard of hearing" or "visually impaired". People don't use words like "attachment parenting", "baby-led weaning" (baby led? Parents see themselves as the potters and the babies as the clay. Ain't no baby leading nothing!). People don't go to their kids games to cheer both teams. They keep scores and they cheer for their kids (not necessarily the team! ). The list is endless!

Coming from that background,  I must say I have done a good job, learning, unlearning and relearning. However, on some days like today, I just want the freedom to tell this lady next to me to grow some balls! I just want to scream that it's rather immature to tell a bunch of people to stop discussing their parenting methods because said methods make you feel bad.

In her opinion,  only evil parents let their children cry it out and soothe themselves to sleep. This thinking in itself is completely valid. To each his own, right? However, it's incredibly silly and even bratty to tell a group of adults to stop their conversation because it bothers you. I want to scream, "There's a door. Use it". Instead, in keeping with western world courtesies, I will smile, confirm that irreparable damage hasn't been done to her sensitivities and use the door myself. 

Being polite is exhausting. I'm tired. Bloated from all the swallowed words.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Flying without wings

While doing our (baby, daddy and I) bedtime ritual, my mind wandered to an amusing time in my life. A time that seems now, like lifetimes away. I was rocking my son and singing to him. I started out with Boundless Love, Blessed Assurance, Amazing Grace, (he should have slept, but no!) Pour my love on you... I ran out of sweet gospel melodies and dug into my FGGC music competition playlist. Santa Lucia, Edelweiss... then R&B. I started singing Westlife's Flying without wings and that was when it happened. 

I was 16 and had a massive crush on a certain guy. Let's call him Dude. So Dude was 10 years older and was (at the time) everything I hoped my first boyfriend would be. And yes, he was my 1st boyfriend. I remember all the sneaking around. The countless lies to get out of the house and go hang with my beau. The way he taught me how to kiss. Bottom lip... upper lip... then the tongue (and pls no teeth!). I remember the way my heart beat so fast when he touched my breasts the 1st time. I thought I'd have a heart attack. Errmm... how did we progress from lips to boobs? We listened to music a lot, and at the time, one of our favorites was Flying without wings. Now, it is not clear whether it was 'our' favorite or MY favorite, but who cares?

As I sang that song to my little boy, I laughed at the folly of youth. At 16, what was I thinking when I listened to that song? Did I look at Dude and think I was in love? I still know the lyrics. Every single word. Incase you've never heard it, pls click here for the video/lyrics. Follow me, as I break down some of the lyrics.

"...You'll find it in the deepest friendship
The kind you cherish all your life..."

Really? How deep could that friendship have been? As for cherishing it for the rest of my life, I don't know about that! Haven't seen or spoken to Dude in at least 12 years.

"...Well, for me it's waking up beside you
To watch the sunrise on your face
To know that I can say I love you..."

I definitely remember lying in my bed and dreaming of what it would be like to wake up beside Dude every morning. I used to tell myself that he was too perfect. he would never have morning breath or any such imperfection and his farts would smell like potpourri. Yeah yeah yeah... 

"...And you're the place my life begins
And you'll be where it ends..."

I am thankful that God wasn't paying me any attention cos my life is just getting interesting! Imagine it had ended then! What an empty and uneventful life it would have been. Oh well,I guess when you're 16, you think that you're all grown up and living it up is not wearing school uniforms, wearing badly applied makeup, wearing tampons, not having a curfew, perming your hair, hiding to drink a bottle of Guinness (horrible tasting shit!), having a boyfriend, kissing, talking about kisses and dreaming about sex... These were the things 'grownups' did and therefore as a young girl doing them felt like I had arrived. Ridiculous.

Remembering that episode in my life was funny. I actually laughed out loud. The funniest memory of that relationship was our first and only valentine's day. I wasn't sure if he would get me anything and so didn't want to get him something and risk looking silly, so I went to his house empty-handed. Got there and his cousin told me he wasn't home. I waited for what seemed like forever. I think I even fell asleep on the couch. I felt a tap on my back and woke up. There he was. My handsome boyfriend (lol). He had a huge bag of precious little things for me. I don't remember all of it, but I remember the teddy bear and the Cerutti 1881. He attached funny one-liners to every thing in that bag. I hugged him and knowing me, I bet I cried. Lol. I can proudly say my first big girl valentine's day was a great one. 

That's that. Now, everytime you hear that song on the radio, I bet you'll think of me! Hahaha!

Monday, November 10, 2014

Did you marry your best friend?

Isn't it funny how we say, "I married my best friend"? I asked my husband yesterday, "Who is your best friend?" Without thinking, he said, "Trevor". I asked myself the same question and my answer is and has been Uju. So does that mean that we are not well suited? Cos I see all these couples who say, I married my best friend and I wonder why I am the only one who didn't have a best friend she decided to marry. 

When I started dating my husband, we connected so well that in a month we probably knew as much about each other as our best friends knew about us. Then we progressed and we got married. Now, two years into that marriage, we know things about each other that nobody else knows. So maybe,  when people say, "I married my best friend", that's what they mean. Maybe best friends are the people who know things about us that nobody else knows. 

On friends, I need to write another post on that. We have different friends who serve different purposes in our lives and who we reach out to at different times. I wish there was a shorter word for random friends. Acquaintances is too damn long!

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Random #2

He couldn't keep driving. This was beyond the 5 second random itch. It was intense. He pulled into a strip mall's parking lot. There was a convenience store. Maybe they sold condoms. He thought to himself, why didn't I keep her waiting an extra 30 minutes? A short detour to the pharmacy would have saved him from this messy situation. Scratch. Scratch. He couldn't stop scratching. He unzipped his pants and cranked up the AC. Oh Evelyn! 
He dreaded going home to Rebecca. She must be a witch, he thought. She always knows what's going on with me and with everyone else. Father God, deliver me from Evelyn and whatever this is that she has passed on to me!

Random #1

She smiled at him. It wasn't a happy, i-have-missed-you smile. It was a smile burdened with knowledge. As he walked into the living room and took off his coat, she smelled Evelyn. Evelyn and her cheap hausa perfume. 
She thought to herself, if I were a man cheating on my wife, I would arrive at my mistress's house, take off my clothes at the door and wrap them in a plastic bag till it was time to leave. After all, it's not like one goes to his mistress at 8pm for high tea!

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

My Marijuana Chronicles (the concluding part)

After missing my marijuana treatment for 1 week, I had a seizure. That was probably what I needed to convince myself that the treatment was working. My greatest fear was my baby. I was terrified that something might happen to him. Hours later, at the hospital with my mother-in-law clutching my hand, the doctors said the baby was doing just fine. Lesson learned!

Many times through the pregnancy I wanted to tell my doctors I was taking marijuana. The reason I didn't was because I knew that would be their go-to reason for everything that happened to me that period. I suffered incessant vomiting and pains and iron depletion in pregnancy. But you know what, I would take all those things and more in exchange for seizures. For some weird reason, marijuana does nothing else for me. Doesn't give me a high, doesn't work as a pain killer or treatment for nausea and vomiting. These are all things users swear it does. Not me.

In a few days, it will be 1 year since I had a seizure. There are those nights, lying in bed just before I shut my eyes, when I whisper a prayer of thanks. For many years, my last thought before I slept was always, "God please not tonight". I no longer sit up in bed afraid to shut my eyes because the intensity of the auras I felt were an indication of a looming seizure. Awake, I would remind myself that sleep deprivation would only make it worse. I no longer wake up with that sick feeling in my belly. The feeling that something had happened. I no longer wake up to that question, "Do you know what happened?' There are no mid-sentence interruptions due to absences. The list is endless.

By September next year, all things being equal, I should have an MRI. Fingers crossed. Hopefully the readings will be different. Positive. Hopefully, it will be a few months till I can be medically certified seizure free. Hopefully, my son will never have to worry about his mama. And my husband will never have to wake up to watch me have another seizure. Hopefully, my parents will never again be saddened by the news of my seizures.

Well, that's that. I just bought a bong. One word of advice to marijuana users. Vapor over smoke! I hope sometime soon, marijuana is legalized  and more doctors open their hearts to the endless possibilities in that herb.