A friend urged me to share.
Thinks it’d help.
This is about a girl.
She’s had it bad for the last four years.
So 2013 was neither different nor special for her.
To start with, this was the second of 2 extra years in university she’s been forced to undergo, due to recurring cases of ill health.
In February, a man she used to love came around. He picked up her phone and demanded to know whom she had been texting and why.
Then he picked up his hand and hit her across her face. Then he punched her and hit her some more, till he tired of it. And left her cowering in tears, with bruised and bloodshot eyes.
In March, she got pregnant, following the doctor’s advise.
“You’re sick”, he’d said. It was either: have a baby now, or never.
She was lonely and miserably ill.
Writing exams, visiting the hospital was a horrible combination.
But at least she’d have her baby.
In April, she miscarried.
In May, away from school on break, she got a call. “Come back to school now,” they said. “It’s urgent.”
She travelled, thinking that she’d get her final results and do her clearance.
It was neither.
“We’re sorry,” they said, “and we know you’ve been sick. But you’ve missed so many exams you won’t be able to graduate.”
“Not graduate this year?!” She asked shocked.
“No,” they said, ” not graduate ever.”
She goes on medication for clinical depression.
She sinks deeper.
In June she’s pregnant again.
She visits the hospital and takes things easy.
In the midst of the disappointment and pain, there’s hope.
In August, she miscarries.
The depression gets worse.
She hates herself. She hates everybody.
She thinks about taking her life. She’s sure that would be easier.
There’s drama from her mother who wants her to get married to the man she’s chosen.
She’s a good mother. What with their financial situation, and her medical condition, her mother is sure it’s the right thing to do:
Get married to someone who can take care of them. Have kids while she can.
It’s hard to fight with someone you love when that person loves you and feels guilting you day after day is the right thing to do.
She has a boyfriend, named Garba.
He has been the sane part of 2013.
Silently urging her forward with his unwavering support and faith in strength she doesn’t even have.
Loving her in ways she does not even deserve.
Helping her live through each day.
This is December, and she is deep, deep, deep in depression.
Every waking thought is about suicide. Every.
Shouldn’t she just overdose on the painkillers? Or the antidepressants? Or the hallucinogens? Wouldn’t that hurt less?
She’ll be starting next year with a hysterectomy (one that is absolutely necessary but unaffordable). She’ll start it knowing she’ll never have kids (kids being all she’s ever wanted).
She’ll start it knowing 7 years of schooling have gone to waste and no degree to show for it.
She’ll start it with low job prospects and no hope.
She believes in God. She believes He hears her.
What she wants to know is: in His goodness and almighty graciousness, why in the name of all things beautiful, does He hate her so much? Why for every one she asks, He takes two? Why He’d rather help the others and ignore her?
What she wants to know is:
Isn’t there a marker for pain, after which one is allowed to do what one can to end it?
Isn’t there a point beyond which conceding defeat and letting life win is the only sane thing to do?
Isn’t it foolish and useless to hope in the face of undeniable sorrow and repeated misfortune?
The girl is me, and that’s all there is to say about my 2013.
To think that it isn’t my worst year so far, LOL.
You had to write this. Thank you very much for sharing. We’ll be here for you in our prayers and hearts.
Goodnight and take care