This post is definitely going to be the most difficult to write in this series, not only because the events I’m writing about are very sensitive, but also because I only like putting my stupid antics out there. I dump the serious stuff in my diary, on my friends’ heads, and on the Big Man Upstairs. So I apologize in advance because I’m sure you’ll be able to tell that I’m biting my mouth and being intentionally obscure in this post. But let’s dive–rather, waddle in with caution…
The weekend before work started, I was visited by a dear friend. My relationship with this friend has been very up and down over the past two years, and right now, I’m not even sure where we stand to be honest. We barely talk these days. I’ve been trying of late but he isn’t reciprocating my efforts–which is fair because I had been the one on the non-reciprocating end of things for the past few months. I’ve resolved not to raise this issue with him because we might just end up going through yet another cycle… so I’m glad he’s never going to read this, as he doesn’t even know this blog exists. I don’t blame him for the way he’s acting right now though–I understand him. I feel like I’ve come to terms with the fact that at this point in life, we’re two very different people on two different frequencies. And “love” doesn’t automatically make everything right–it doesn’t automatically eliminate significant differences or automatically make timing right.
It was really nice to see him though, as always. It was quite a spontaneous visit that involved rerouting his flight back to school, and that gesture alone made me rethink so many things. During his visit, I let out all my pent-up frustrations at him (you know my ass, I will always eventually explode 😂 ) and after we spoke about everything, we transformed into the people we were the year before. Happy, comfortable, silly, and just content being in each other’s presence. Unfortunately, this was short-lived. The month of January continued, and our transformation reversed.
At the end of the month, something happened. Wow, just read that sentence and it’s literally the laziest thing ever written by mankind, but I’ve tried and tried in vain to come up with something better. It’s just that this “something” (which btw was totally unrelated to my “dear friend”) was an all-or-nothing type thing; it’s hard to tell the tale half and half. But it left such a horrible impact on me emotionally, mentally, and physically to an extent. I had never felt so vulnerable, broken and violated. I was confused and torn; I had so many questions but I didn’t have the answers. Usually, when I’m in a tight spot, being a worrier/relative pessimist, I tend to obsess over everything that’s going wrong (as evidenced in Part 2 of this series)–but even in such moments, I know in my heart that those tight spots would eventually become distant memories. But for the first time in my life, I could not see the dark cloud over my head passing away.
I could not overcome the negative emotions I was feeling–the truth is I didn’t even have the strength to fight them. One night, I wrote in my diary:
“God, I can’t even say I can’t do this alone. The fact is I can’t do this at all. Please do this FOR me”
I was a walking bucket of tears. Not just any bucket, but a bucket that was filled to the brim–easily triggered to spill. And it showed, no matter how hard I tried not to let it show. One day at work, my Associate Coach called me into an empty Partner’s office. She’s not usually one to show emotion but I could see the concern in her furrowed brow as she asked, “Chioma, is everything okay? You’ve been seeming kind of off lately.” I replied saying that I was good, that it was just some emotional stuff, but I tried to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. I knew she wasn’t sold but she didn’t want to pry so she let it go. That day, I cried in the bathroom at work.
I was a mess, but not a complete one. At times, I felt happy and thought I was okay, but before I knew it, I’d be back to square one. One particular night, I cried myself to sleep, but that was fine. What alarmed me was the nature of this crying. As I cried, I felt like my chest was tearing apart, like I was suffocating. Looking back, that week was without a doubt one of the worst weeks of my life. It was like I was trying to get my shit together but failing miserably. By the next few weeks, I was much better! 60% of the time, I could talk about what happened without feeling a lump in my throat. I was still going through ranging emotions–from anger to shame to indifference to disappointment to betrayal to amazement. Sometimes, I’d just burst out laughing–like you know when something is so maddd that you don’t even know how to react lol it was a crazy couple of weeks/months.
I didn’t drink any alcohol or go out for a while. I was just trying to enjoy life gently-gently, going through the motions–working, eating out from time to time with my sis S, gisting with friends, watching my numerous TV shows, touching up my remaining grad school apps, practicing my dance movezz in my room mirror, snapchatting like I always doezzz. And life was good. I was GENUINELY happy. The cloud was gone, and I was beginning to see things in a completely different light. God was working. He was taking His time, but I didn’t mind–He was carefully putting me back together piece by piece. But obviously, at this point, I’d already started giving 2016 major side-eye. So much had already happened in just the first quarter. I became anxious about what other things the year could possibly hold for me.
P.S. Damn, these last two posts were quite soul-dampening. Don’t worry, will be bringing the messiness and drama in the next. Talk later.