I do not miss the innocence I carried around in my mind, and the lack of experience because I wouldn’t try it out, or being called naïve simply because I didn’t understand the pure bliss; hitting like an electric voltage being surged up one’s body, that explodes from unending tingles; a result of satisfaction of an achievement. Admitting this on a normal day would have been done under the influence of some flavored sniff, and probably a heavily intoxicated brain, because it’s pretty scary and uncouth for a woman to go outside the norm and try new things. It makes her look promiscuous, scandalous, corrupt. But I would be damned if I missed the day I lost my virginity.

Yoga by Gathoni Ireri

I thought being a girl was hard, but damn, being a woman isn’t easy. Bills pile, responsibilities increase, vacations you can’t afford become a necessity to ease the ache that has piled on your back from toiling hard and to ease the pain of the constant punches on the already broken heart. And the only choice you have, whether by the easy way or the hard way.
Once upon a time, I was confined in a shell, where I stared from the windows and admired goodies life had to offer. I didn’t know that it was necessary to break at a point and aim for the sky, but once I broke that hymen, got used to the new rhythm and understood the true meaning of “la vie Est belle,” I would definitely be damned if I went back into my sad cocoon where I had no say and let someone else live my life.

Nudeyogagirl_art

I do not miss the longing that came with wishing for the best. Diamonds, I always wanted to be a diamond, have diamonds, clothe myself in fine linen and drink old wine. My desires however, were a mere wish. Girls like me do not get to realize dreams like those. The least my type can do is buy a gold coated ring with a sparkly, imbalanced stone at its center, wear fake designs and drink cheap wine while our mirrors make it because they took a leap and tangled in the sheets with the wrong team.

Photo by Gathoni Ireri

I stopped longing for diamonds and started treating myself like a gem when I realized who my mother was and what she thought of me. What you think of yourself, is what you often end up being. To be the best you need believe you are the best. Mama told me to do my best at all times, as long as at no point would it compromise my integrity. Compromising my integrity would get me where I would want to be a lot faster, but the satisfaction of a job well done is never achieve by a quickie. A quickie settles a fix. A well-executed full blown experience, now that, that is life.

Discipline rewards

I was once afraid of those who wanted to silence me because I challenged the status quo where adults were not meant to break free and pursue their desires; especially if it would challenge the norm, but now I only speak my truth and hope that out there is a raging soul out there that seeks a way that will be more than just a fix for a second. Writing this, a feeling of nostalgia hits me because am forced to compare the timid soul I once knew, who was too scared to take the leap of faith because she was scared the society would call her and the now fierce woman who believes she can do it all as long as she puts her heart and mind into achieving it. You do know this is not about the sex though, right?

Image by Ireri

I do not miss the scare that came with the thought of carrying my pregnancy to full term. 9 months with your tummy stretching and the thought of the actual pain you experience before the baby pops out probably scared me, but no more. Once upon a time, the dreams I had were written down on papers, crumpled then thrown in bins. Then I learnt of the beauty of ink on skin, and began to write my dreams on my skin. But rarely did I carry the full nine months of my ideological pregnancy. Now, when I conceive a vision for my life, I nature it in its womb, I feed it right with the right networks, I excrete all the wastes that may poison it, hell, I even quit social life for my baby. I do this because I realized the fulfilling emotion that comes with running through an idea, realizing it is possible and actually actualizing it.

nudeyogagirl_art

I now treat my life episodes like a love session. I take tentative care and detail on what gives me pleasure and work on that till I achieve it. Am not shy to share an idea that I believe can transorm lives. No, I speak my mind and hope in the processes, one day, I will heal the world with love. What we create out of our lives, once we reach that stage where we can walk on our own two feet, is determined by our abilities to break the hymen, cross into the land of the unknown without fear, exploit our strengths. In this era of toxic feminism and non-retreating chauvinists and misogynists, everyone will always have a problem with what you do. Good or bad, everyone will always have a reason to talk.
I no longer fear the voices; I am the best version of myself. I quit my innocence; I taught myself a few lessons to stop being naïve. I put my hand into the cookie jar, and all I can say is, success and victory come with this bliss that I would never want to end. So, no, I do not miss my ignorant days. I do not miss the days when I relied on here say from people who had done it and made it in life. I don’t view the wisps of glory as they slip from my arms. I broke free, and the ecstasy that comes with making it in life is a feeling I will never give up.
Transformation in life, is just like a tangled affair. At first you are scared to break the hymen, or you get clumsy. But once you get the hang of it, you do not want to stop. Your desire is to be greater, you can no longer be kept quite because you now have a voice. So use that voice and scream your way to your success. Don’t hold back.

Image by Ireri

I know I sound crazy, but there is no cigarette between my lips, no thoughts in my head, no bottle popped at my feet, just the realization of how much I accomplished when I let go of my ideological innocence.
Namaste

22nd December 2017, three weeks of being in hospitals, with no clear indication of what was slowly killing me. The weight scale scared me, wouldn’t go beyond 45 kilos. Doctors tested one scary disease after another and all came back negative. Going back home, with my father supporting my weight, I had one prayer; “God Please, let me make it to 21, it’s only a week away.” Frankly I didn’t know I would come this far, at night, my father would come and call my name at random hours just to be sure I wasn’t gone, I would let out the breath I was holding the whole night, for fear of not knowing where I would wake up. The low moments were when everyone would hold me with pity in their eyes and ask me what was wrong.

    Caleb is missing. But thats a full house

29th December 2017, I came back from another routine of negative results, I was frail, my body was shaking, everything was painful. I begged to take a nap. On waking up, I heard hushed voices, my sister and her husband had planned a mini party for me. I cut that cake with so much joy because I had made it to 21. Twelve months later, by the Grace of God am turning 22. The journey has been long and shaky. I can’t remember exact dates, but whatever memories I made were worth it. I thank my family for the unending support and love. Without them, I do not know where I would be.

Parents are a gift from God. Treasure them

21 tested the strength and authenticity of most of my friendships. Shifts in dynamics and decisions I made brought some friends closer while others walked away. Which am grateful for, because, turning 22 is a year of many firsts, and it’s a journey I only want to make with real people. I am very insistent on honesty even when it hurts. Its much better than lies, because lies break trusts. If we are friends, and we can’t be honest with each other, then what good are we? When you are on a tilting stone that is likely to drop you in the ocean, or in dire need of emotional support from people, is when you’ll know if you have friends or bugs around you. Nothing sucks like being told “I really wanted to tell you, but…” by somebody you consider a friend. Real friends make it their responsibility to watch your six, be honest, and stick by you in your lowest moments. Those who are ashamed of you or lie to you are bugs that you need to pluck off.

Vanessa! Al never thank you enough.

At 21, I also realized that Spirituality is a taboo topic in this era of civilization. It takes courage to admit you are saved. People are ashamed to stand by their beliefs. We shun our beliefs to fit in, then go on our knees to repent when no one is watching. It’s a pity. I have to admit though, 21 has been a year of spiritual growth with a staggering graph which I hope to keep steady as I turn 22. Am keen on having a personal relationship with God because I have seen His faithfulness in my life. Also, being brought up in a religious home has helped shape my thoughts on religion. I can’t say I was forced into this, I have always wanted to have a spiritual purpose, well, probably 22 will give me that.
Someone asked me a very simple question that I couldn’t answer; “What is the purpose of all your hard work, what are you aiming at?” I realized I was no longer a baby and needed to start shaping my career. The fear of the unknown, makes us sit in our comfort zone, hoping that someone will spot us and take us to places we need to be. But this year I stood and fought my battles. One quote that drove me; “I don’t want to be in my 30’s searching for stability, that’s what my 20’s is for. Am trying to be 30, looking 20, thinking 50 and still keeping it 100.” Going after what I wanted used to be a challenge, but 2018 introduced me to tough women, like Ziana, who wouldn’t think twice about putting me in my place when I slacked on my responsibilities.

Ziana, thank you!

I have tried my best to invest myself in all fields that will shape my career. My first time in public speaking during debate competitions, has been an upward graph which finally saw me emerge the best female speaker and fourth best speaker in the Pan-African tournament. The road wasn’t easy, and it certainly isn’t over.

Ladies, head west! I repeat, head west. Ghana and Cameroon well represented

The biggest challenge I faced was when people keep on trying to compete with you instead of competing with themselves. Teamwork is easily hindered when you compete instead of complement each other. But the meaning of conflict of interest became very clear at this stage. Individual goals and team goals easily clash when you can’t align a clear goal that works for both the team as an individual One thing I promised myself is to never screw my teammates, because it would serve my purpose. That sucks!
What better way to conclude a year than with a happy love story? I think I finally met my match, the silent war between us keeps me trying to be a better person every day, perform exemplary well, make my parents proud and achieve all the goals I set for myself. It’s not easy to come across such characters, because for most men, a powerful woman is a threat, but the moment he sees you as a compliment, then he can uplift you in all you do without fear that you’ll surpass him someday. All I hope is that this time it lasts forever.

HT!

2018 has been a year of ups and downs. I lost friends, I gained family. I shed tears, I lost my soul, I lost my esteem, for a moment I thought I lost my soul. But slowly I rose into a better person, a queen who wore her crown proud. I got hurt over and over, I learnt to forgive. Lies and deceit were common, but through it all, all memories are now life lessons. I can say they made me the non-retreating woman I am today.

Goodbye 21,hello 22

Hey 22, as you come in, please be kind me. I don’t know what lays ahead, I don’t know what stumbling blocks I will meet, but I believe I have begun a battle that I do not intend to lose.

Dear diary, 
I pen down the notes of my follies and my heroic moments.  A recollection of a jouney that is just about to come to an end. The orgasm that once came with the freedom now threatens my sanity, with a question of what lies ahead im my path. A new journey is about to begin, yet it still is unclear what fate holds ahead. I pen down the decisions of a transiting naive girl, who came in a teenager, and now almost departs,  a full grown woman who knows not what a life holds ahead.

 
 
 
The life most of us face once we join our dream institutions of higher education to do courses that we hope will change our fates often begins as a straight road but soon diverts into a million roads and without knowing right or wrong, we often follow the wrong path. 

Broken pots can be fixed with gold

Dear Diary
Drugs, parties, and sex. Those are a wrapped early funeral gift that come with the freedom. Topics that the weak at heart find a tabboo. The best the elders will tell you is; never let a boy see your panties. It is bad manners.  But no, they never tell you the pain you feel when your virtue is stolen from the palm of your hands without consent. Worse still, they do not tell you of the sweetness of the forbidden fruit. There is that point of no return where all you want to do is dip your greedy hands into the jar and help yourself to more honey. But just like an oversized child the guilt that comes with the pleasure often overwhelms the soul and drains ones spirit.  You die inside as you wait for the physical ending; where you never will feel shame or guilt. 

Dear Diary.
For a fraction of a second, I felt like my choices were right. All the cards fit, my future would be complete. Staring back at little Mr. Perfect, I realize he played a game I wasn’t mastered enough to win. Well for a while there, it felt like I had all the cards at the palm of my hands. However, with the mirage of our future, I put my dreams on hold. Stopped applications for a passport with hopes of furthering my studies abroad. Despite the happiness, I noticed I was a convinience. Wanted but not needed. That stung worse than a slap. I gained the strength i needed to walk away. The journey was lonely and cold, but it was worth it.
In my pain, I turned to ink on my skin. A reminder of all all the pain I felt within. I look at my tattoos and remember, this too shall pass. I know I will never trust again. My heart is mine to treasure and hold. For if I let games be played anymore, I my never pen again.
 

He plays you for a fool girl, says all the things he knows you want to hear, then pounces and feeds on his prey before scouting his next target.  At first it hurts, and you hide behind alcohol, movies and fantasies. It doesnt kill the pain or fill the vacuum, it only expands the dark hole. But then,  you discover the church. A sanctuary where you can hide in. You no longer know if your intent is to worship, or to hide in His presence and seek some solace from your disoriented mind.

Dear Diary.
The church, it always the turning point, a chance for a new beginning.  For a moment there, they will call you a hypocrite. Your former life will fail to match the new you. The society will always have a word to say though, so go ahead with all that makes you happy. 
We run to the church because we realize, friends never last forever, and finding a real one in a million is like trying to hold on to vapour. Friends come and go, they are around for convinience, and run away when the heat becomes too much. Sucks, but its a life’s lesson.

Dear diary
Its my final journey.  Came in at eighteen, now leaving at twenty one. I see light at the end of the tunnel. I dont know if its the sunshine after my storm from my self-caused mistakes, or if it is a train that will knock me down to my final journey.  My questions, or at least most, remain unanswered. It comes with the territory of being confused and hopeless. The curse!!! 

Dear diary
Probably this is my final letter concerning my life. I came in with no experience in how one juggles work, church, fun and relationships, now, am reaping the fruits of my mistakes, trying to pick up the broken pieces. I came in without scratches, but I leave with a lot of lessons.
Ladies, gents alike; the freedom we gain in school, its not a chance to explore on sex and drugs. It is a moment to realize how tough life gets when we make no plans for the future. We no longer are children, we owe it to our future to get responsible. Sex is not a sport that will always put food on your table, someday you will grow old, and without savings or investments,  you become another wasted soul that had brains they did not use. 

When it comes to playing, lets leave it to sports in the field. Hearts are too fragile to be thrown around and kicked with balls. You mess around with so many hearts in an aim to prove your manhood to your peers, but for every tear shed, your generation will pay a price.

Last but not least, talk about it, share your story, touch a soul somewhere. For whatever you think you face alone, some other soul faces too. Talking cam save us from premature death. Talking frees our souls from the poison that builds within when we hide.  Let it out. Until one day you can tell your story with a smile on your face.

Goodnight diary. Tell that little boy this freedom will not last. 

#diary of a broken soul. 

The letter at his desk three months ago brought his walls crumbling. Being a new graduate with a first class honors at the top of his class, he knew he had made it in life. His superiors did not know as much as he did. No, they were controlling freaks, who did not even go to the university. He had been warned thrice about his behavior, they had finally let him go. Today, his girlfriend had packed her bags and left him. She could not handle a man who could not accept his mistakes and work on being better. She had no future with an alcoholic. He was a laughing stock in the society, often slept on verandahs after passing out from binge drinking. He felt as if the whole would was against him. Nursing his bottle in the dimly lit chang’aa den, he wondered for a second- maybe she was right. Was he simply licking old wounds instead of moving on? For once he contemplated picking himself up and giving his destiny another shot.

A mile away, the former choir mistress of their local church was feeling nostalgic about the good old days in the church choir where she led worship and people were moved, floors shook, souls were saved. But damn that youth pastor! He had been so convincing, she wanted to save herself for marriage, but with his conniving tongue, had managed to make her question the need to wait yet they were bound to be together. He did no less to lessen her fantasies. Three months later, after being kicked out of church, having been caught in bed with a married man who was the youth pastor, she could not face her peers without feeling ashamed. She was accused of seducing the pastor with her provocative long dresses, there was no way the man of God approached her first. However, despite the shame, she asked for forgiveness from God, and slowly, she was learning to forgive herself, she hoped one day she would be forgiven by all who found her to be the devil’s spawn. Her life had moved on. She had accepted her fate and moved on to the next journey in life.

I define licking old wounds as a situation where we wallow in misery and self-pity over situations that have occurred in our lives that we could not control. These are defining moments that often break us, if we are not careful. We are soaked in self-doubt and constantly worry about what others say. We lock ourselves within for fear of facing hard truths, or what lies ahead. We simply have no strength to pick ourselves up.
Licking old wounds is a hobby most people pick up when faced with unexpected and devastating situations especially those they consider they brought on themselves. It involves constantly looking into the past on where things went wrong, blaming ourselves, and when we can’t handle the truth look for other people to blame. We then focus more on analyzing the past instead of picking ourselves up and giving life another shot. Licking old wounds can be a comfortable zone to be in. You do not need to face the consequences of your actions, because you lock yourself indoors, or travel far away from your reality and wallow in our own misery. We constantly focus on the past, on the mistakes, and on what we could have done different if we had the chance. The problem with looking at the past is we waste a lot of time on things that do not matter instead of trying to move forward.

We do it all the time. When we fail in our exams, when we are expelled, when we lose a deal at work, when we lose a case. The society is filled with so many expectations, that if we do not supersede what is expected of us, we are considered failures. The sad part about it is that we believe it and we focus so much on what we did wrong, that we forget the best part about life is all the memories we make will only be lessons if we let go and let God.

As we begin a new month, my advice to you is; we all make mistakes at some point in life, however, what makes us different is our ability to accept that we did wrong and move on. People will always judge, criticize, ridicule and mock you every time you fall. You need to realize, your life is yours alone, it is you who will decide to remain in the past or move on.

Accept your errors, seek forgiveness if you need to- from God, from yourself and from people you feel you have wronged. Also find spiritual healing. At times we smile and say we are okay yet deep within we are crumbling. Unless you heal the pain that seeps through your soul within, you will constantly be trying to convince yourself that you are okay when you clearly know you are not okay.

Last but not least, stop licking those old wounds; Rise up and walk



When a baby is born, they are thrown into a new hostile world, where they know not what to expect. They analyze who to befriend, and who they find an enemy. They don’t just let anyone in- be selective on who you open up to in your recovery journey. Then reaches a point where their legs itch and want to move, it’s a new territory, while others start crawling, others hold back a little because it is a scary experience, but they later do it. Same to talking, or when their teeth start growing.


Point is, instead of licking old wounds, or being comfortable in a zone, we can embrace change and work on ourselves. Rising up is more important than licking those wounds. Taking a leap of faith and rising up makes that baby walk. Rising up lets you take charge of your destiny.

They blame it on my short skirt,
I blame it on their short sight,
They stared at me looking for perfection,
In my politeness, scratch that,
Without a speck of shame,
I asked they look the other direction,
I mean, my flaws make me perfect,
They describe my journey,
Stepping on thorns, crushing roses in my hands,
The beauty of life’s taints.
©Rioba.

Her scars spoke of the journeys covered by her soul.

Blinking, as the rays of light hit her eyes through the window, she grasped her pounding head in her hands as she tried to remember why she was in this position. Her clothes, where were they? Naked at 11am, cliché. Thank God she was in her cubicle, but the door, it was wide open. Suddenly, it all came back to her, flooding her mind with silhouette shadows of moments of consciousness, the drinks, dancing to her favorite jams, designated driver or is it escort, the long walk home, moments of blackness… Then there was that, at some point he was on top of her, at least that’s what she pictured in her mind. Her bed, wet, stained. She did not want to utter the taboo word;

My secrets were ours until you decided to spread word

God forbid anyone found out her dirty secret. They would all say the same thing, you brought it upon you, who told you to stay up past your curfew? While hitting the shower attempting to remove all traces of filth that clouded her mind, she made a resolve. No more recklessness, but the damage was already done, her heart slowly shattered into a million pieces, fragile invisible glass cut through her lungs, she felt she could not breathe… Things would never be the same, she was slowly going down a steep road, on a fast lane, with no brakes. She wasn’t even in her mid-20’s, yet what seemed like her midlife crisis journey had begun.

Behind every smile, are unshed tears that threaten to break free from captivity.

You think it starts at 30, when everyone is pressuring you to get married, every aunt suddenly has a blondie boy from the hood who she thinks will make a good husband for you. They say it’s a shame they need to cover.

You think it happens when you find out he who promised you a happy ever after is chasing every skirt in town and now you have to find a way to explain to the kids why daddy needs to sleep in the holiday home till you figure out what to do with the tainted picture that once seemed perfect.

Let’s not mention that moment when everyone depends on you to be a bread winner yet you cannot secure a job for more than five seconds into the interview. Damn, adulthood can really be messed up.

That feeling of freedom.

Cut the chase around the term or the age limit and focus on the real meaning of a midlife crisis- that point when life picks you up by your feet, picks you upside down, shakes you so hard you get dizzy, and lets you tumble back to the ground headfast when you think it’s all just about to be over.

In my desire to quench my thirst, I flooded my soul.

When does it really happen? When you realize one amongst the streams of men you let access the honey pot was a carrier and now you are a victim, or was it at 18 when you realized your hotshot rich boyfriend whom you are carrying for, was actually the gardener’s son who used the memsahib’s car to run errands on occasion. How sweet it felt to be driven around in a BMW series. You pictured your life travelling across the world, spending his non-existent money on meaningless purchases just to prove you had made it. Dreams, dreams suck at times. Or is it at that point when your mentor or friend or family member becomes your molester and you can’t do nothing about it.

What we do.

Don’t shame me, I made a mistake, correct me

The morality of the society is characterized by rumours, bullying, back stabbing, hate and death. We often contribute to the crises revolving around people’s lives; being the carriers of a rumour, adding just a sprinkle of salt and passing it on, rejoicing at their downfall, taking advantage of others in their weaknesses, the list is endless. It is unfortunate how we find joy in bringing others down- “serves him right”, we often say. We fail to see that the best we could do is support a falling life and be the hero that saved the day someday. A crisis can disorient a once planned journey, it can make your life lose meaning and if not strong enough, suicide often seems to be the best solution to walk away from the pain. And it is very often that we drive the victim to the last straw that makes them breathe their last.

Hold my hand before I drown.

Let us learn instead to hold his hand, or wipe her tears, building one another is more beneficial than striving to make others miserable.

What to do.

Find the one thing that calms your tides

Am not saying I have the answers to walking away from a situation that feels like a midlife crisis, but taking back control of your life is important. It is not easy, but it begins with getting out of self-pity, or wallowing in misery over spilt milk and giving yourself that pep talk that you always thought was silly. Whenever I am in a hitch, I look into the mirror and tell myself ‘hey girl, you are strong, you’ve gone through worse, what makes you think you cant get through this?”

Is it ink that saves you from their sneers

Find a hobby, something to keep you busy, is it church? the gym? Swimming? whatever it is that give your life meaning, pump all the adrenaline and aggression into it and let the anger out. Cry if you must, because the moment you open the water falls, they often work magic in realizing the toxicity you hold within you.

Find the sweet spot in the dark coffee

Also, have a confidant at such moments, I know real people are not easy to find, but you always have that one person that holds your hand through thick and thin, (Salut Nduts haha) share with them, ask for a way out, its not always about knowing it all, sometimes the solution to a crisis begins with sharing it.
 

Happiness too, is a decision we often fail to choose.

Last but not least, just like the waves in the sea, there are moments when the tides are calm, but at times they rage so much destroying everything in their path. Such is life, there are moments of calm, there are moments of rough tides, no matter what happens though, the calm always comes back at some point. The question is, how long are you going to wait to walk out of the binds that hold you to the cage of sorrow, and take charge of the possible that seems impossible.

Giving a new meaning to your midlife crisis

In life, there are different kinds of people, those who love, those who play and those who don’t feel. But one common thing amongst us all is that there is a point in life where we lose the most precious thing to us and we have to endure that sickening pain within us, or for others, let the pain and shame consume us and form hollow, dead but living creatures out of us. The question is, what next, do we continue to feel sorry for ourselves or do we move on? Am a fighter, I definitely pick moving on. I have a really lovely sister, one who loves with all her heart. I never was the emotional one between us, or so I thought (I don’t know if am laughing or crying now), she always got hurt because of how much she loved, or trusted. Often the society took advantage of her kind heart. I would try reason with her and ask her to take it slow. I told her “usiingiange box na miguu zote” (For lack of a better statement- don’t fall madly in love). She once told me, “Mirriam, there is one day you will fall in love and you will get your heart broken and trust me you will not like it. So today, do unto other what you want them to do to you.”
Fast forward, April 2016, I finally met him, tall, handsome, brown eyed, that body build… everything was perfect, he was like my personal teddy bear, in his arms I was safe, he literary took away the nightmares I had, (story for another day though). I didn’t hesitate to let everyone know he was mine, you know us women, and how we get when it comes to territories. Then again, being the campus girl I was, I felt like I was too young to settle down, I wanted it both ways, secure my man and still flirt around, attend parties, get high, but you can never have it both ways. So I finally lost him, he had to walk away, he had given me too many chances and I kept on giving him a reason why I did not deserve these chances. This time around, I knew there was no going back, he was at his last straw, he was too calm, it was like he was gone already.
It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my soul in a second, our journey had finally come to a standstill and this time round, I knew there was no going back. I had screwed up, and for a moment, I felt like even he knew it too; this time we couldn’t really recover. I had killed the last shred of trust he struggled to have in me. I felt my soul slowly slip out of my living body. The pain was too immense, for someone who said I couldn’t cry, I struggled to walk home with balancing tears in my eyes, then bore out my heart on my pillows, the shaking was uncontrollable, I couldn’t breathe well, my hands were trying hard to play the role of a fan and a comforter at the same time. Breaking up with someone you built your future around cannot really be explained. It is like they just died in your arms, and you no longer can feel their presence, yet they are there. Heart breaks are painful, because this time, aside from the feeling that they are gone, you will constantly have to see them happy in another one’s arms, and by all means put a fake smile on your face and congratulate them on how far they have come, or tell them how happy you are for them. Deep inside though, you will be crumbling to tiny pieces, breaking down and losing the last roll of cool that kept you going, because you cannot believe you actually lost the only man or woman who made you be you, with whom you did not have to hide in front of or pretend to be perfect. But guess what, our actions have consequences, the best we can do is swallow the bitter pill, get well and move on.
On that fateful day, in my own crazy mind, I felt like I needed to go out, get high, get drunk. Those were the typical solutions to campus life. But for once I stopped and gave it a really long thought, I was trying to be unique, so why was I opting for typical acts? So what would getting high solve? Would he come back if I got drunk? What about the little ones that looked up to me, what example was I setting for them? Finally made a resolve, I knew who I wanted to do. I would stay home, scribble a few notes in my diary, write a post my blog, go to church, in short, be the woman I always wanted to be in my fantasies, then maybe, that way, he would not have to constantly wonder if I messed up again. He at least would be at peace knowing that I learnt the hard way, finally straightened my acts and became the empowered woman he said I was deep down. I thank him, even if I never say it to him, he made me the woman I am, and the one am working hard to be- ambitious, focused, successful but submissive and greatest of all, God fearing. I moved on from my heartbreak and turned out to be a better person.
Hey- It is never that simple, but at the same time it is not impossible, it’s a healing process that only becomes a reality if you are committed. You can do it too, alternatively, you can avoid the hurt all together, treasure whatever you have, be committed, you never know when tables will turn and you have to live with memories only.