REARVIEW

What's the point of living if all you feel is an unending cycle of despair, struggling to keep your head above water and few flashes of happiness that don’t seem to last?

I had written an entirely different
end of year post in my head before today. It was going to be a post filled with
retrospect of 2019. A post of hope for the New Year, something brighter than my
previous dark posts.

But here I am sitting at my desk in the office, hanging by a thread. My chest aches physically but I know the pain is from the heaviness in my soul.

I have lost count of the number of times during the course of year I have silently told myself I am tired.

At this very moment, I don’t desire to
be alive. I feel like leaving my desk, walking out of the office without
telling anyone where I am headed and walk into the wild. Keep going and get
lost.

My colleague this morning already said
to me that I am being cranky. Filled with so much irritation, I responded - then
you should leave me alone.

This is really bad, my tormentor has begun to follow me to my place of work. It’s beginning to show and it bothers me lowkey but not enough to worry me. A second colleague, Eghosa just tried to find out why I am looking down but fuck it…I can’t even bring myself to tell him. I know I can count on him because we share same bond. We have both been through fair share of family pain. But I know if I open my mouth to speak, I’d break down crying.

I don’t want to cry over this matter again. Last time I did was first week of this month at Shiloh. It was embarrassing enough, a grown man crying a river in church. I tried to wipe the tears off, but it became too much that at a point I didn’t care if the world stared.

My head went through several persons I could run to for shelter – Reward, Elohor, Tunji…even the ones I have pushed away. I almost sent a message to Tunji, but I reminded myself that I said I would do this alone. I need to, have to.

I caught myself drafting an email to
my ex. Smh, still feels like a safe haven for me. Tragic. I am still longing for something
that’s long lost. I thought of going to the car to call my ex and just cry on
the phone, pour it out but I remembered Reward’s stern warning few days ago that
I resist the urge to send Hunter Hayes’ Loving you track to my ex. I deleted
the email draft and resorted to writing this.

Since yesterday I have been having
fleeting moments where I see myself putting my affairs in order and then ending
it. I have tried, I am worn out from the pain of watching helplessly the shit
my family has been dealing with for almost ten years now. When does it end? I
swear, serious conversation needs to be started about what caregivers go
through.

It was just last week I sent a message
to Tunji that my younger one is home, I’m happy and feeling well. But seems
relapse is already occurring. After two months in the hospital and less than a
week we are getting right back to it? I tried to be strong throughout Sunday,
to act like this was not going to shake me but truth is, I was using every
freaking energy in me to keep my mood up. Now I feel worn out and tired and I
just want to go numb.

My colleague, Eghosa wrote something
on his whatsapp status few days ago. He wrote – “this year, I have been strong,
but next year I just want to be happy.”

I felt that, every word he wrote.

In retrospect 2019 was easy for me, a lot better than 2018. But still, it had its down moments which is fast beginning to feel like they are overshadowing the good times. I got promoted at work (something I almost killed myself over with so much expectation), I had an amazing Lebanon trip and most importantly, ticked off a major bucket list item (summiting Mount Kilimanjaro). These were great moments I am thankful for.

I had hoped when writing my review of
2019, I will be saying I had just three major mental breakdowns this year but
its beginning to feel like it might be four. I started this year almost killing
a child when I hit him with my car on my way to work first week of January.
That messed me up and shook my world. It took months to not have my heart
racing when someone crossed the road while I drove.

July I sank so low, hitting a new low level of despair that I actually felt myself feeling pain in my soul. I always did the separating science from faith ish, believing mental health was to be sorted out by science and medicine but I found myself crawled up in my bed, crying to God to rescue me. Never have I prayed before when I felt down, but that moment, I sunk so low and it felt like I was going to keep going deeper…words fail me to explain the depth of sorrow I was in.

October broke me. The treatment I was undergoing for anxiety had some complications and then afterwards, my younger one had to be admitted. It all worsened when my close friends missed the signs that I was going through hell. That was when I knew I had to protect myself from my high expectations of people even though I give others so much energy and attention.

I resolved to do this alone and be my
own hero. While I know it’s silly and would only make life harder, but at least
I know it’s easier than dealing with the feeling of abandonment when I need
someone around. Leaning on others is such a huge risk, sucks we are wired to
need others.

Sigh…see, 2020. If I make it, I don’t want to have to write anymore sad posts. I want to have it easy, to be mentally stable and feel whole. This blog should be filled with sunshine and rainbows and not a nest of darkness and sadness.

My one desire is to not have any mental breakdowns next year.  Funny how this one wish is my greatest fear also. I broke myself last December with my unhealthy expectation for promotion and closing the financial year soundly. I feel a bit bothered I haven’t learnt my lesson and I would repeat same thing December 2020. Sometimes, I feel like walking away from my job, from the anticipation of the next grade. Because truly, after getting it I find myself thinking of how to get the next grade. It’s a cycle of expectations and ambition. To what end and at what cost?

I spent the first half of this year obsessed with how to meet my KPIs so I can get promoted again at the end of this financial year. Then I saw the below post and realized I wasn’t living right.

I wasn’t being grateful or even trying to live and enjoy my new grade. I was wasting my days scheming and over thinking every transaction. Not until I let go and became unbothered, did I begin to see the blessings and ease that came with my new grade. Ambition really is such bullshit.

***

I’m home now, and pondering over today’s events, I realize I have learned to condition my reactions to things. I have grown in that aspect especially as regards to unplanned expenses. I don’t let it bother me anymore, I tell myself it’s just money and move on. I have managed to adjust my expectations and emotional response to certain aspects of my life, but this one thing that brings me down so low, I seem to not have learned the best possible reaction.

I feel like I am walking on egg shells around my younger one’s health, such that any little thing gets my mood all over the place. You’ll think that after all the multiple relapses, several visits to the hospital, crises endured since 2010, I would be better at managing this. Every damn time I am a mess and even worse for it. I dare say I am fast losing faith, losing hope that indeed God will come through for us and let this thorn depart from us.

I look back at my earlier teenage years when I struggled with what now seems like mundane stuff that set me on the path of darkness. That had me wishing to suffocate on my pillow at night. I thought I had pain then, now I know for real what pain looks and feels like.

I have dreams of traveling the world
(I am happiest when on a trip/tour) but for how long do I keep running? Maybe I
should leave home, get another apartment in another side of town and tell my
folks not to come see me…does this even make sense? Running from my own family
because I need to keep my mental health intact?

I tell my elder ones they have it easy. They are not in the same location with us and don’t get to see these things. Heck, we hide it from them to keep their mind at ease. I am the one at home, the one who sees it all and carries the weight. I feel obligated to be here for my folks, but then I am at crossroads. Do I stay and get consumed seeing I can’t exactly detach or adjust my emotional response? Or do I run? In this case maybe not knowing would be the best. But do I truly not want to know?

Right now my prayer goes along the lines of Ruben Studdard’s 'I need an angel' track – Sometimes it’s hard to face the truth, so we run. God if you care at all, please don’t let me fall by the way side…

I have this idea of a life I want but each day its possibility of coming through slips further away from me. My mum says I should detach and live my own life, that I shouldn’t let another person’s own bother me. But I just can’t seem to know how to do this. Makes me lose my desire to be here on earth. When I get like this, I desire nothing but oblivion. The easy way out I guess, but after years of constantly battling with my mood and fighting every day to keep myself afloat, I can only desire some peace.

If I died today, I’d like people to feel happy I have finally found peace. Sometimes I find the strength to hope that my younger one’s health will get better and this thorn in our flesh will be gone forever, but these days I’m almost too worn out to hope anymore. Sadly, hope is a dangerous thing for a guy like me to have, but I still have it…

I had previously asked the guys in my office that we all hang out on Boxing Day, but right now all I crave is a very quiet Christmas. A drink, music and some quiet...

TURNING POINT

“Therefore, whatever you want men to
do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” – Matthew 7 vs 12.

This
is one verse of the bible I don’t resonate with. It’s almost as if it’s the
things I’d never do to others, people keep doing to me.

Something happened ending last month that has brought me to a place where I no longer desire to go the extra mile for anyone. I want to sort out the pending issues I promised a few persons I will assist with and be done. Throw off everyone’s weight and walk free into the wild. Turn the world off and tune into myself.

People
are really not it. I have since realized how selfish and self-serving society
is. But I naively thought in my small circle, I’d be able to influence a few
persons, teach others what love truly is about. But seems everyone is more
about themselves, while the few that still hold on to a part of their humanity
only try to be there when their help is expressly sought. But should it be so?

Several
times I have seen myself reach out to people just from my observation that they
are in a fix, or I over hear them complaining. I am that guy that even though I
may be drowning, I’ll still stretch out my hand to save another person.

Even
on social media, when I see someone pouring stuff out or posting cryptic
messages that tells they are hurting, I always try to reach out. I may not have
the right words, a simple message of ‘it is well with you’ helps. Even if they
are not willing to share or talk about what they are going through, I know my
reaching out to them goes a long way in making them feel better. I mean, life
really is so hard, why can’t we help someone feel a bit better?

While
I have since understood the world doesn’t give you as much love as you give it,
I found it a difficult pill to swallow when those I felt were my close pals
stayed on the side-line while I burned. It’s one thing to have the world watch while
I drown, but to also have those I consider close friends stand on the side-lines
and not reach out? Pushed me off the edge.

I get that not everyone is the same. Not everyone has sharp instincts like me. From a thousand miles I can sense when a close friend is going through hell. I pay attention to my friends, their tweets and status on various social media platforms because most persons don’t like bothering others or find it easy opening up to the next person on issues they are facing. Everyone has a language and only true friends recognize it. I realized I was alone for real, on my own and I could be dead and not one of my supposed close friends would notice. I was sending clear cries for help but not one person seemed to catch it. It felt cold being abandoned by the world at a time of despair.

I am not the type of guy to hold things within me. I need a space to release the mess going on in my head. Most times I use Twitter to vent/rant. I let out my frustrations there and also do same on my Instagram story using background music that the lyrics fit my situation. Afterwards when my head is calm, I delete and regret it because I always feel someone out there is having an opinion about me along the line of “oh, that drama king is here again”.

I
am insecure about how people perceive me (not in ways you think). Most times I
don’t care how people feel about me, I only bother that they see me as mentally
unstable. I know I have deep issues but to a large extent I think I have a grasp
on life and its realities.

Most
of the times I vent on social media to free my head and not to seek attention
or look for someone to come running to save me.  But I was not getting the best of it as I was bothered
about the silent opinions people were having when they read the tweets and no
one reached out. So I decided to take back my twitter after this last episode.

I
realized hey, Sayi you are doing social media wrongly. Instagram is where we
show our perfect lives so why make a mess of your image there? Everyone is
always happy and picture perfect so why ruin the fun with your moody posts?

Twitter is a mad house. People come on there to argue (waste their time/use it as a place of escape from holes in their lives, instead of fixing up), get entertained by meaningless bants and boost their fragile sense of self-worth chasing clout and retweets. So why destroy your image with rants/vents?

I
deactivated my account for a while but I needed a place to release the thoughts
in my head. My blog is way too structured for simultaneous short vents, which
made me reactivate my account. I ended up getting a lot of persons off my
twitter and putting my account on private (funny, Elohor said she was on my profile
when I was doing this. She kept seeing people disappear from my followers and following
list. She stayed watching, waiting for her turn to be raptured). I left a few
people I know get me, and are already used to my episodes.

As for Instagram, I’m still yet to decide what it would be. For now I have deactivated replies to my stories. I don’t need anyone sending me messages complementing my music taste or telling me how good looking my pictures are. I need people who see beyond the physical stuff. I need those who see deep within, sees my scars and acknowledges my pain. I’m done with those who have reduced our friendship to a source of entertainment. I get that not everyone can handle the difficult conversations but right now those are not the kind of persons I need around me.

I saw this tweet recently and then I shared my two cents on the issue as well -

I
was calling out for help but the world watched me burn and stayed still. It was
just Elohor that had my back that period without me having to tell her anything.
I understood the world really doesn’t care, but to have my close friends join
the world watch me drown and no one even tried to find out what was happening?

That
stung. I felt let down by those I trusted to always be there.

The
final straw that led me to my turning point, to the point where I have told
myself enough with the grand gestures, enough with the caring too much for
colleagues, friends and strangers. It was the Saturday I published the previous
blog post. I was there struggling to stay afloat while my mood sank to a
crippling low. I was calling out for help but people were viewing my status and
not checking on me but yet some were buzzing my phone for one thing or the
other. 

But,
how difficult is it to pay attention?

The
one that hit me most was the message from a former colleague who I think has
been the most disappointing. He buzzed – “boss, please can you bail me out?”
While he was still at my office I know I did my best to teach him about love
and caring for others. There was a day he did something, I had to ask if he
wasn’t learning anything from me.

At
times I do grand gestures, not just to help someone out of difficulty, but also
to show them how to be there for others. To understand this phrase – being there for others because you know
what it’s like to not have anyone there for you.

But seems all my efforts have been a waste. People will always be self centered.

I got better and posted a recent picture of myself at work. My face was lit up and you won’t even get the vibe I just walked through hell. And then someone who knew my struggles, who stayed silent while I was hurting buzzed ‘sup’. It took me hours to respond, cus honestly I didn’t want to. It felt wrong that he disappeared when I know for real, he was aware I was going through a deep end, only for him to reappear once it was obvious the storm was over. It didn’t sit right with me.

‘So if you are gonna love me
You gotta love all of me
You gotta love, deeper than that
Now, if you’re gonna leave me
You better run far away
I’d hate for you to leave me attached’
- Bad luck (Khalid)

I feel undone, distant and detached from society (people). Over the years I have been intentional about those I want around me, purposely secluding myself to make my cycle very small. But this time around, I’m in this space where I want to ghost myself from everyone and walk alone. Maybe it’s time I chose myself learn selfishness and take a page out of the manual on self-preservation everyone seems to be preaching these days.

I
have chosen not to settle for less love than I give. Like Philip once said to me,
‘you deserve the same energy you give to others’.

I’m
done being loved less.

I
know I set myself up for hurt expecting people to be there for me in same
measure I try to be there for them. I know it’s me setting up myself for pain,
hoping that someone would notice I am going through stuff. But that’s the
shitty side of this thing, you know you need help, and you should reach out for
help, but you are so broken down by the weight of it all, sinking in misery that
the energy to reach out deserts you.

Valentine
made a comment on my last blog post. He said while he was reading the post the
words that came to his mind were lyrics of Beyonce’s Save the hero. I initially
replied him that I am not a hero, and I can’t stop trying to save others even
if my world is falling apart. After a while, I got angry and deleted my response.
I felt short-changed. How can I have rooted so hard for others but yet I have
not even tasted half of what it is to have someone root so hard for me?

I’m angry and hurt and the only thing that makes sense to me is to detach. But I know I truly can’t. I doubt I will ever be any less of a compassionate person than I have always been. Funny enough as I am ranting here, my head is figuring out ways on how to be there for two friends. I have accepted that I am the guy that loves deeply, that loves easing people’s pain and loves being there for others. I am that guy who fights back tears when people give testimonies during service at church, it’s so embarrassing.

Left
to me I’d love to be on my own, lost in my space but unfortunately humans are
wired such that we need others to survive.

I
am not asking for money and I am not asking that anyone fix me. I honestly do
not want to complicate anyone’s life with my issues or drag you into my raging
seas. I just need you to show that you are there and I am not alone; that you
see and hear me.

That
beyond all the glamour of my travels, beyond my smile that comes naturally even
when I’m in a bad place, you see my scars. That I am safe even when my world is
falling apart and it feels like I am being rocked off earth’s surface. That you’ll
keep an eye on me as I wade through this ocean that sometimes seem to overwhelm
me. Is that too much to ask?

Lately
I had to ask myself if I have been seeking safety in those who don’t want to
have the hard conversations. Lowkey, I feel those I used to run to are tired of
me. I remember one time when Henry said ‘one moment I’d think you are getting
better, only for you to breakdown again’. I couldn’t even respond to that. I felt
like a burden.

I
guess this time, my pain was too much for them to bear or they saw it as a
normal cycle for me. Like dude will be fine after a while, he always bounces
back, let me give him space.

Or
they were really busy at the time, I mean everyone is pretty busy these days
and trying to sort out their own lives.

Being that I am not ready for therapy, and also the need to protect myself from my expectations and then feeling bad no one noticed or checked up on me while I was calling out for help, I have decided to stick to travel as a way of escape for now. Find ways to keep my mood up void of medication, no putting my issues on anyone anymore. Basically going to be my own hero and find ways to save myself.

Reward
read my last post and he offered to help. While I am grateful for the kind
gesture, I had to let him know I have made up my mind to try going the journey
on my own. Though I’ll keep his offer at the back of my mind, like a lifeline
just incase shit gets too heavy for me to carry alone. But let me at least try
and see how far I will go on this solo trip.

What
I didn’t tell him was, I don’t want to set myself up for rejection again. What if
like the others I leaned on, he gets tired or used to my episodes and thinks it’s
an unending cycle? Or he doesn’t get me, and gives up. I know how I can be
about getting help and there’s the angle of him not having the professional
training to handle my relapses or times I may seem to fall off track and reject
his help. These are just excuses tho, plain truth is, I am not comfortable
leaning on anyone again. People always leave.

I have made up my mind to make this journey alone going forward. I’m grateful for those who have been a major support system and lifeline in the past. But this last time shook me. I need to protect myself and in so doing, I have to adjust my expectations. I don’t want to feel abandoned again, or feel like those I held on to missed my cry for help. That shit hurt like hell, and sunk me even deeper. So to stay safe, I have decided to do this on my own and if I drown, atleast I know I was heading for the shore.

Friendship should mean much more and we should all start reciprocating the love we receive from others. It’s not okay to always be the one on the receiving end or be that person who disappears when you are needed most, only to come when the storms have settled. It’s not okay to choose the parts of someone to interact with. If you can’t be there for them during their dark times, you shouldn’t be there when it’s blooming around them. Friendship is not about choosing comfort, it’s about love and love is sacrifice.

‘Had a hundred friends but I cut them off
I don’t need ‘em
Not like any of them gave a fuck if I was breathin’
Summer’s over so they switch around like the seasons
Gotta keep my guard up now I’m playing defense
Everybody wants a favour, everybody needs me
But I’m too busy tryin’ to fight away all of my demons’
- Hundred (Khalid)

Sink or Swim 3

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them
with illumination or forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons
will cause your angels to sing” – August Wilson

I hate that my first
reaction to crises is thoughts of disappearing. I find myself fading to a place
where I get lost in thoughts of how easier it would have been if I was never
born. I have a fragile mental space and I easily get overwhelmed by life.

“I’m damaged at best, as
you’ve already figured out” – Broken (Lifehouse)

In those moments, I find
peace.

Everything comes to a halt
(all in my head sadly) and the pain feels distant. I have to wilfully snap myself
out of my mental walk towards oblivion. Those times it gets so hard being, I long
for stillness in my head. I need everything to stop. Can life spare me a minute?
Let me be still and breathe? Get things in perspective, have the world which
seems to be spinning round my head pause for just a damn minute. But nah, I hardly
ever get to have that moment of stillness. I find myself feeling like I am
running behind, trying to catch up with reality. Life and time move so fast, I lose
my breath trying to keep up.

Henry has said I should
stop saying this, but the truth remains, a part of me believes I will die by
suicide. No cause for alarm yet though, I mean, I don’t think I have the
courage to actually hurt myself. I just find peace in thoughts of floating into
obscurity, of finding that quiet I seek. I won’t say I am suicidal, maybe
passively suicidal. But deep down, the thought lurks that someday my mind might
break and I’ll do it.

I said this to the
physician I went to see for my anxiety attacks. He immediately set me up to see
a therapist. I noticed my attacks were more frequent than I had ever had in the
past. I can’t count the number of times since early December last year (one of
the hardest period of my adult life) I have been almost crumbled by this sudden
overwhelming feeling of doomed approaching. My heart gets heavy, my mind goes
dark, breathing becomes a struggle and then, the annoying tears that lurk. Two times
I almost lost it at the office, my colleague had to hug me for some minutes to
help me calm down.

I know my triggers, but
I knew it was getting worse when the tiniest of things began to incite episodes.
I have long been sceptical of seeking help in Nigeria because we most often don’t
know where to draw the line between religion and professionalism. This came to
fore, but I decided to let it go, being that I knew the doctor meant well. I remember
him trying to look for a whatsapp broadcast video to show me, of a man who had
no hands but could play a musical instrument and entertain people. His words to
me were – ‘you need to calm down, others have it worse’. *Sigh

Why do we humans do
this? Someone opens up to you about their pain, then we go trying to invalidate
it with examples of others who seem to be having more difficult challenges. I don’t
get it. That someone is going through worse, doesn’t automatically remove my
pain or make me feel any better. I’m living my life, following my own path and
whatever I have to deal with on the journey. I am not measuring my progress by
other people’s misfortunes. Where I hurt is where I measure my pain from. I’m
not in competition with anyone. That Mr. A doesn’t have two hands doesn’t mean its
okay for Mr. B to have just one hand.

I ignored his unprofessionalism and got the prescribed drugs, of which I adhered strcitly to the dosage. Few days later I started reacting to the pills. I had to be taken off them but thankfully the few tablets I swallowed seems to have helped as I haven’t had any episode since last month. The side effects I suffered have also subsided but still, I am yet to go for therapy.

At first I wasn’t sure
my health insurance will cover the cost of the therapy. This was my initial
excuse. Well, it got approved but I keep dragging my feet. I think for one, I am
scared. I feel like I am in a good place relatively. Yea, been kinda withdrawn
for the past few weeks and off social media to silent the noise but it isn’t much
of a dark phase. It’s nothing like the two mental breakdowns I suffered in
January and July respectively.

Like I confided in
Pascal, I am scared of going for therapy because I got scarred from my
reactions to the prescription drugs. The drugs triggered something even more
painful. I bore the pain for a week and then the drug given to relieve the side
effects triggered a bad case of constant ulcer pains. I got so thin, I could
see my ribs through my flesh. I suffered pain for two weeks straight up. There was
a Saturday morning the pain was so real, I wished I could trade my body for a
new one.

I have cold feet about going for therapy as I feel stable (for now). I am functioning well to a large extent though still trying to fit social media into my normal daily routine. I still feel off, but to a large extent I feel very okay. I fear if I go for therapy, I may be placed on meds again and then this may cause sideffects that won’t be pleasant. Or that I would go for therapy and the can of worms would be opened and all the shit I have been fighting in my head would show up for real and overwhelm me. That it would break me so low and I’d need time to deal and fix myself. That time, I really don’t have.

I remember back then in
university, Chiyenum said that I am lucky that all the crap I have to deal with
don’t affect my studies. I think I carried that luck into my work at the
office. Maybe my job helps serve as a distraction from my reality. But this
week, I had to pause and reflect if indeed my demons have started affecting my
job. My boss said to me “you are losing your steam”.

That stung because I had
already been beating myself over silly mistakes normal me won’t make. I had
become sloppy and I still can’t tell if its due to physical exhaustion from chasing
transactions back to back or me being a bit down mentally that I needed to stay
off social media. I want to believe its physical stress and having to handle so
much at so little time. I say so because the one thing that really crashes my
mood has happened and I didn’t break.

A younger one’s health
crises has resurfaced and got admitted. I wasn’t sure she was admitted but I had
a feeling she had. I was a bit scared of confirming this from her parents, I was
clinging to not knowing to keep my sanity. Funny, the day I was told, I was not
shaken as I normally would have been (is it that I am now tired of it all? like
I have given up)

My world would have gone dark but weirdly I found reason, found understanding and calm. By now I would have sought shelter in Henry or Pascal (my major support systems) but they’ll only know about this when they read this post. Let the therapy thingy hang for now, maybe when I find myself falling to pieces and needing to be saved, I can go for it then. I feel okay and my head is above water, no need running there and then turning my world upside down like those drugs did to me.

****

I saw this picture recently
and it spoke volumes from two angles.

Firstly, it mirrored me.
I know how I react at times to a colleague when he is having mood swings and
also someone else I know who is struggling with bipolar disorder. I try to use
logic to fix them and expect them to know to act in a certain way. Truth is,
this is how society treats people with mental health issues. I have since
forced myself to learn empathy, and it’s a continuous wilful action for me, to
remind myself every time that it’s not them acting out. I have to see past
their moods/actions and understand it’s the illness.

Secondly, a friendship recently almost got ruined because she failed to understand why I needed time to be alone, time off social media and also reduced human interactions. Before taking off I told her what I was about to do as per staying away to go recover. Unfortunately, she needed me to not become a stranger/shut her out. I knew she meant well, but I needed her to know that this was fully about me. I wasn’t okay but she needed me to act whole.

After a while, I began
to feel bad that I was shutting her out so I cut shut my hiatus from social
media and tried communicating with her. It was forced and I ended up exploding one
day when I felt overwhelmed. Thankfully we survived it and we are back to being
friends though I had to recluse again and fix up first.

See, this thing is a
real struggle. Forget that what we see on social media these days is ‘choose yourself’,
‘stay far from toxic and negative people’, depression is tagged on every sad or
low feeling, almost making it sound like a cliché. Some people are really
dealing with a lot. Their own being, their very own minds warring against their
survival. It gets so dark sometimes, so difficult that even talking becomes so
much of a burden.

When I hear people say
talk to someone, it makes me laugh. I know y’all mean well, but truth is
majority of us are not equipped to handle these things. Sometimes opening up to
the wrong person and getting the wrong response/vibe from the person, or them
trying to invalidate your pain or going religious on you, or not saying the
right words or giving off the vibe that they don’t get your struggle can set
you back a thousand steps.

Lately I feel I have burdened
my friends enough. I have leaned on them too much and its time I set them free.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell them how I have been this period. I tried to
ride this episode alone but I failed. I ended up sending an SOS to Philip who
has been an amazing lifeline of recent. He patiently asked me leading questions
which as I answered, I felt the gloom and burden ease off. It was a relief
offloading but still, I feel like I need to learn how to take this road on my
own. Be my own hero. I know I don’t have to go this alone, but I think my
recent spat with Henry made me feel I lean too much on others and my honest
vulnerability may just be a weak point that might be used against me in future.

Also, I had to block my
ex on all platforms recently because I realized while the relationship was over,
I was still leaning and hoping babe will come to my rescue whenever I vent
online. I found myself yearning for that familiar safety I was used to.

While I had moved on
from the failed relationship, I had a sincere conversation with myself and
realized I was still holding on somewhat, and seeking refuge/comfort that was
no more there. This sounds crazy even to me, considering its same ex that put me
through hell and broke my heart to pieces worse than anyone has ever done.

“and my torturer became
my remdey” – All night (Beyonce)

My ex was like a safe
haven, though flawed. I knew my struggles were not fully understood and there were
times I felt like my fears were invalidated but to a reasonable extent I always
felt safe with. I was still holding on to that and lowkey longing for it,
hoping I’d be rescued whenever I was drowning.

But in all, I think I was also hurting from the fact that I was walked out on (technically). When we chat once in a while, I never remain the same for few days afterwards. My head and heart starts clashing, my emotions get worked up and I become a mess. A part of me yearns for that safe haven while the other part says boy, it’s over, you gotta move on for real.

It is almost as if every
time I am about to cross that final line of closing the chapter, my ex picks
that moment to buzz to check-up on me or something makes our path cross and I am
back to square one. I had to use the block button for good.

“Just when I felt like
giving up on us, you turn around and give me one last touch that made
everything feel better…” – California King Bed (Rihanna)

I get you chose
yourself and walked away from the mess and chaos that I am. But you walked away,
so be gone and stop caring for me. Stop buzzing to know how I am faring. It shatters
me when you say I still love you and will always do and never want to see you
in pain. You walked away and I’d never get over the fact that you broke your
promise to never leave me, as irrational as this sounds.

“This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy

I need somebody to heal

Somebody to know

Somebody to have

Somebody to hold

It’s easy to say but it’s never the same

I guess I kinda like the way you numbed all the pain

Now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you’re not here to get me through it all

I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

• Someone you loved (Lewis Capaldi)

****

It’s time I let go for real and seek safety in myself. Enough of leaning on others…

****

“There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone

It wasn’t ‘cause I thought I’d be happy alone

It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell
apart

I might not make it

It’s easier to be alone

Because if you learn that you need love and you don’t have
it?

What if you like it and lean on it?

What if you shape your life around it and it falls apart?

Can you even survive that kind of pain?

Losing love is like organ damage, it’s like dying

The only difference is death ends

This? It could go on forever

• Words of Meredith Grey (Grey’s Anatomy)

****

I have a wedding to
attend in Lagos ending this month. I am looking forward to it and hoping that before
then, I would have sorted out all my transactions at the office so I’ll be free
to travel. I see myself by the ocean, looking at the waves move back and forth.
I feel free when I am by the ocean. I let go and experience freedom just staring
into the waters. Travel is sort of therapy for me.

When I feet low, a trip always serves as a cure (it is part of my road to recovery). People say travel is escape, I agree. It has worked several times for me but I recently read a blog post on Huffpost titled ‘When Travel Becomes a Dangerous Escape’, written by Nicole Melancon.

It got me thinking a lot about why I travel and I realized that while I am truly excited about exploring and seeing new places, I have turned it to a means of escaping my life.

“Don’t get addicted to escaping. Face your shit, handle your
business, and triumph. No battle was ever won by people who run” – Gregory Anthony

Here’s an excerpt from the Huffpost
write up –

‘Oftentimes, the life of a world traveler appears to be
glamorous and enviable on the outside. Their amazing stories of traveling the
world are full of adventure, travel and beautiful photos from surreal places.
Their lives seem so wonderful and happy and fun. Yet what is said to the
outside world may be completely different than what is really happening inside.
On the outside they may seem to have it all, but on the inside they may be
falling apart, bleeding, hurting, and suffering in silence.

Of course, there are many reasons why we travel. We travel to
relax, to have fun, to experience adventure, to see the world, to spend time
with family and friends and to get away from it all. Yet have we ever taken a
hard look at the real reasons we are traveling sometimes? Have we ever realized
that sometimes we are using travel too much as an escape, to the point where it
can become dangerous?

Throughout my life, I will admit that I have been guilty of
using travel as an escape during hard times. Most likely we all have to some
degree. So what is it we are exactly trying to escape? Unfortunately, our
lives. We want an escape from the daily grind of a life of routine. Escape from
the devastation of a broken heart or major disappointment. Escape from things
we don't want to necessarily face back at home like a serious illness, a death,
a divorce, or a layoff. Escape from something we cannot change.

Travel is an escape. The further you go off the beaten path,
the easier it is to forget. Yet traveling for the wrong reasons and not facing
your demons in your life can be dangerous. You always have to come home at the
end of a trip. Although you may forget about your struggles and pain while
you're having the time of your life half way around the world, it is important
to have a good, happy place to come back to. An inner peace with your life at
home and on the road.’

****

I wish I got the tattoo
I initially planned on getting during my last vacation. I want to rebel against
my body. Call it self-expression? The next best thing was to shave off my hair.
It felt liberating doing it. I can’t exactly explain it but I felt lighter,
felt relived seeing someone not so familiar in the mirror.

My scars may not be
visible but I know I carry them within. My body may fail me, my mind may take
me so low and my soul may feel weary from the daily struggle to stay happy and
keep my mood up. But one thing I choose to do is keep on swimming and keeping
my head above water.

I have had dark days, I
have had days filled with sunshine and rainbows. I am learning to live in the
present, shut out the noise from social media, live intentionally, stay healthy
and keep going one day at a time. I may find stability someday or I may realize
stability is just another myth we chase after, but what I’ll try not to do is
stop fighting.

Sink or swim?

CONQUERING MOUNT KILIMANJARO (Adventure of a lifetime)

Hiking Mount Kilimanjaro which magnificently stands at 5,985meters above sea level has been a major bucket list item for years. My interest was established in 2014 when @Osams summited it, though much thought was not given to it until June 2018.

Rooftop Gang

While flying back to Nigeria from Zanzibar last year, I caught a glimpse of the mountain peak and my interest got reignited. It was like the Universe had it all planned out as a month later I saw a tweet from @Tvpadventure advertising a trip to climb Kilimanjaro slated for August 2019. It felt like an opportunity of a lifetime. Without giving a second thought, (I had not even chosen my leave dates for 2019) I sent a message that I was interested.

A Whatsapp group was opened, we called ourselves the Rooftop gang. Information was disseminated about the climb including workout routines to get us fit. Yours truly didn’t hit the gym once in preparation for the trip. I did my best to skip every morning, and also did lazy sit ups. I later realized for real, the hike was really not for the strong, fittest nor swift, it was more of a mental battle.

Two things I feared will pose major challenge for me were - cold and the infamous altitude sickness. Thankfully there was remedy for both; stack up on thermal wears for the cold and a drug – Diamox for the altitude sickness. Due to my medical history, I was skeptical about taking Diamox, though I had it in my backpack for emergency purposes. I made sure I adhered strictly to the advice @Osams gave me, and which was also reiterated at the camp before we began the hike –

1. Drink a lot of water (atleast 3 litres daily)
2. Go slowly at your own pace (this would enable you acclimatize to the reduced oxygen level as you go higher in altitude).

I was excited to meet the people I had been in a group with for over a year, exchanging ideas and fears about how terrified we were about the hike. We hit it off immediately we met, deep down I knew it was going to be a very interesting gang.

On arriving Moshi, we were welcomed by the tour company in charge of the hike - @eco_africaclimbing. We were given a pep talk about the climb after which our gear was inspected and those that needed more items were asked to rent (the tour company assisted here).

I
needed to rent extra gloves and ski pants (both came in handy later on). Other
items I rented were sleeping bag and trekking poles.

• 

• 

• 

The
first day of the trek started with us checking our pulse and oxygen level. This
was done subsequently every morning and evenings to monitor our health (to
ensure we were acclimatizing well).

• 

• 

We checked out of the hotel in Moshi and headed for @ecoafricaclimbing's office to weigh our luggage. Each of us had porters (Kili fighters) assigned to us. They helped carry our duffel bags (which contained our supplies and other personal effects) from camp to camp. We were to hike with just our day packs. Each porter is allowed to carry a maximum of 15kg, and when the sleeping bag is added a maximum load of 20kg. You have to watch what you pack, else you would need to hire an extra porter at more cost.

We had a one hour drive from Moshi to Machame gate of the mountain. We completed the park registration formalities, had a quick lunch and off we went. The journey began and it felt pretty normal as we laughed and chatted along. We had no idea what lay ahead of us in the coming days.

• 

• 

• 

We walked a distance of about 9km from the gate to the first camp site. This was approximated to take 6 hours but the group did it in about 7 hours. Personally I did it in 9 hours, getting to camp after dark to meet the others already seated for dinner. The terrain was a bit flat, rainforest with cool weather. This gave a false idea of what was to come.

Initially I was walking fast, complaining that walking slow was making me feel tired but I remembered the advice to go slowly (go pole pole as the Tanzanians would say). I also realized taking deep breaths at intervals helped. I slowed down and joined the back benchers’ team. A team I never left till we descended the mountain on the final day.

As regards the meals we were served, I came prepared with an open mind because I had read in the brochure that meals will be prepared with focus on the nutritional content over taste. I was ready to eat crap. I always pictured brown watery soup anytime I thought of the meals we will be served.

But boy! I was blown away by the food provided. At a time I had to say they were on a mission to kill us with food. We even had chicken pizza up there on the mountain, fries and ketchup, fruits every day, Quaker oat and what not. Don’t ask me how all these came about because I too don’t know how they managed this.

• 

• 

• 

I’m still looking forward to the camp experience I have in my head, the one I experienced up the mountain doesn’t count. The cold every night didn’t allow me enjoy it and the tents were so small, getting in and out, as I told my tent mate, seemed to be just as hard as the long hikes every day.

• 

• 

My first night in the tent was horrible.

I am a bit claustaphobic.

I woke up middle of the first night breathing heavily, taking off layers of my clothes quickly as I felt I was suffocating. I tore the zip of the tent open so I could get in more air.

The first thing that registered in my head was altitude sickness. After managing to calm myself down, I realized I didn’t have any headache neither was I dizzy, so it definitely wasn’t altitude sickness.

I was reacting to the tiny tent. It took me a while to calm myself down mentally, thankfully this occurred just that first night. I quickly got used to the annoying tiny tent which was such a chore getting in and out of till the very last day.

Our morning routine had the guides waking everyone by 6:30am from tent to tent, after which the chef provided each tent with a cup of either tea or coffee. A bowl of warm water was later brought for washing which we mostly used for teeth brushing. We didn’t have our bath for the 7 days we were on the climb. I doubt any of us had sweat on our bodies as the cold was on throughout the day. Sometimes it got weird, while hiking we felt both heat and cold at the same time.

Each morning the tents were dismantled and the porters carried everything to the next camp site. The porters were better referred to as Kili fighters, to be honest they were the heroes of the hike. We always left them behind every morning but yet they managed to pass us on the way with so much load on their backs and always set up the new campsite before we got there. As if that’s not enough, after setting up the tents they always made their way back the trail to help us with our day packs or some bring us food and water.  Angels in human form.

We continued our ascent the next day. By then no one needed to advise us to make our day pack as light as possible. I think its best to avoid taking a DSLR camera when hiking Mount Kilimanjaro. I ended up keeping mine aside and relied mostly on phone photography to get rid of the excess weight from the camera.

We hiked our way to Shira caves on the second day. The views of the mountain was breath-taking. I was able to capture the sunset at the camp which was pitched just beside the clouds.

• 

• 

Third day was the most challenging. The trail was steep and the weather unfriendly. The strong winds made the air very harsh to breathe in. I remember while walking through a rocky valley, I started reciting ‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil’.

• 

• 

I had to remind myself of my past hiking experiences for motivation. From hiking to and fro Industrial Training classes in NIFOR, to hiking Owu waterfalls and Farin Ruwa waterfalls in Kwara and Nassarawa States respectively and then, hiking Mabira forest in Uganda.

The clips we watched online before the camp and stories we read about hiking Kilimanjaro didn’t do justice as per what we actually experienced on the hike.

• 

• 

This was real and we were living through hard times. We were like the Israelites making our way through the wilderness, only this time na we carry our hand pay big money to suffer. I was like is this really how I am spending my vacation?

We had
initially planned to trek to Lava Tower first, then make a decent to the
Barranco camp but along the way we decided against going to the Lava Tower so
we could get to the camp before night fall. We slept at 3900meters above sea
level in Barranco camp.

The road less traveled

We woke up the fourth day ready to climb the much talked about ‘Breakfast Wall’. It was described to us like a herculean task, but I think I found it much easier than I had dreaded it.

• 

• 

After successfully climbing the wall, we rested before making our way to Karanga valley. The journey to Karanga camp was a short journey compared to the long walks we had been doing before.

• 

• 

Fifth day had us walking a distance of just 4km, the shortest ever. We marched along pole pole as we enjoyed the music provided by our guide. We followed the track to Barafu Camp.

• 

• 

The day felt relatively easy, maybe we were mentally excited about the short walk for the day. The major challenge we faced was seeing the camp but realizing there was a very large steep we had to surmount. We were so close, yet so far. The weather was also in perfect condition.

Thankfully it never rained while we hiked the mountain, save on the last night when we descended. I can’t even imagine how horrible it would have been climbing steep rocks in the rain.

We had half a day to rest before the war summit started. I think personally, I underestimated the final hike to Uhuru peak. Others were visibly worried about it but I had little or no fear. I felt it would be like maybe the third day but a bit colder. Honestly, I had no idea what I was in for. It was rough and had me contemplating my life. We started out by 12:00am. Other hiking groups had already lined up and started their way up the summit before us.

In the dark I could see several rows of headlamps lighted up all the way. I stopped at a point and wondered if we were not all mad. I mean, which sane person would leave the comfort of his/her bed to hike a mountain at midnight in the damn cold? At that point I had to wonder if I had not made a mistake because all the money I spent on the trip was enough to book me fancy holidays in Seychelles, Mauritius and Maldives.

I was there and that was the last night, no need crying over spilled milk. I sojourned on.

That's Kola, struggling to get to the top at dawn. That's how most of us were, some even in worse shape

I had been very cautious of what I ate, selecting appetizers and desserts during meals to avoid stomach issue but apparently, the war I thought I won was a fluke. My village people were holding the last card which they decided to play on that very summit night.

I had a painful stomach upset that had me going behind rocks covered in snow to send a message three times right there in the open mountain. Thankfully it was night and visibility was very poor, quite embarrassing still. It took one of the guides running up to catch up with one of the hikers in my group to get me medication before my stomach settled. Honestly I never knew my village people were that strong and that their hand would meet me at 5,000m above sea level.

As we kept going, I became extremely sleepy. I tried stopping for naps but the kili fighter who was assigned to me, David, refused to let me sleep. He warned me if I did, I will wake up frozen just like my water bottle and its content. To be very honest, I would not have made it to the peak if not for David. He was my hero and kept encouraging me.

By daybreak, I had reached a flat surface but the journey was still far. There were no more steeps as such, I started seeing a lot of people descending who had successfully sumitted. They kept encouraging me that the peak was close by.

I noticed I was breathing through my mouth and was not able to sustain breathing through my nostrils. I started to panic. I asked David where the oxygen tank was, he said the head guide, Alex, was carrying it and he was right behind us. I told him we had to wait for him as I was bothered about my breathing. Half of me thought I was coming down with altitude sickness because the oxygen level was very low at that altitude, the other half thought it was my health issue.

The first day our heart rate was taken, mine was the highest and they thought I was scared. I calmly told them there was no cause for alarm as I had tachycardia.

Alex asked if I felt dizzy or had headache, I said no to both. He said I didn’t have altitude sickness and breathing through the mouth is common at that altitude, that I can keep going, or I could get to Stella point (5,756m absl), take a picture and start descending.

My silly head, was still worrying and I shamelessly tried to talk him into giving me oxygen. Anyway David and I continued the trek but I was still worried. What if it was the tachycardia? Did I come all this way to die? Especially as my parents thought I was in Lagos. I made a pact with myself that the minute I felt the slightest pain in my chest I would start descending.

• 

• 

We got
to Stella point. I didn’t give the signage a second look. I walked on towards
Uhuru Peak (5,895m absl). Something in me got struck. I was like, when they
advertised the trip, no one ever mentioned Stella point, so why will Alex tell
me to snap and descend here? I was acting drama in my head, meanwhile my body
was broken and ready to drop.

I was
so spent, I stopped almost every five minutes to catch my breath. I was as good
as a dead man walking. My trekking poles were frozen and covered in snow. My
luck was I changed to gloves that didn’t have the finger compartment demarcated,
so I was able to push the hand warmer to my fingers. This prevented me from
having frozen fingers.

I got so weak I didn’t know if I was going unconscious or just sleepy. I sat down on a rock and went blank for a minute. Till date I don’t know if I dozed off or if I was unconscious. Thanks to David for shaking me. All I know was, everywhere was dark and peaceful. After that I dreaded the thought of taking a nap.

Favs...

After
walking for almost an hour I sighted people gathered in front, that’s when I
knew I had made it! I was right there at the peak of the intimidating Mount
Kilimanjaro. I made out some of my group members. Energy from nowhere came upon
me. I walked to them, we hugged and celebrated.

This
was where it got intensely personal for me.

I stood looking at the signage. The moment was heavy. It felt unreal, me standing there.  It was so powerful, everything I had been through to get to the summit hit me. Also, the fact that I made it despite surviving two heart conditions in the past (well still managing one) and also some of my friends said I’d not reach the summit.

The moment became emotional for me. At first it was just sighs, then later sobs, and before I knew it, the tears flowed freely.

I bet
no one knew why I was all up in my feelings but that was an unimaginable moment
for me. That was me conquering myself, my body and every limitation my body had
thrown at me and I did this without taking the Diamox drug. My proudest moment
and I couldn’t contain it.

Conqueror of Mt. Kilimanjaro!

Time
to go down and the energy disappeared. My head began to spin, to cut the story
short, David had to support me all the way down to the camp.

We thought our woes were over but little did we know to exit the mountain, it was going to be a two day journey. There was a 10 hours walk awaiting us on the final day. The walk to the gate the next day was the finally suffering. I was glad to do it though, I mean, I couldn’t wait to get off the mountain and get back to civilization. Mostly I couldn’t wait to hit the shower.

On getting to the gate, one of the guides asked if I will recommend the hike to anyone, I said yes, to my enemies. That was on a light note though.

If you
love hiking or adventure, I think this is the ultimate adventure you can
experience. It was tough yea, but it gave me a wonderful experience with
nature, one I had been craving for months. Those long quiet walks gave me free
hours with no internet interruptions to dig into my head and clear so much
clutter. I had the time to reflect properly, take in the beautiful views on the
way up the mountain and feel connected to nature.

If you ever choose to hike Kilimanjaro, I strongly recommend you go with @eco_africa climbing. Asides the awesome meals, you will meet guides and kili fighters who are genuinely interested in you succeeding in your quest. One thing that stood out, was as at summit night, our group was the only group that didn’t have to carry their bags themselves as the kili fighters and guides assisted us with them. I don’t know if I would have made it to the top with the extra weight, going without any bag was almost an impossible task on its own.

Now I have satisfied my one week with nature away from the world/internet, I crave a few days of quiet in a cabin in the woods. I can’t wait to bring this dream to life.

That’s the thing about travel, once you catch the bug, it never stops. You keep dreaming and itching for the next experience…

I will recommend reading Suzzane’s blog post about our hike. She gave a detailed breakdown of gear items one would need for the trip. You can also view my Kilimanjaro highlights on my instagram profile for more pictures of the climb.