My year started like a high speed rail and I didn’t seem to be in the driver’s seat. I didn’t trust the driver and honestly, I didn’t even know who the driver was but as sure as know that it wasn’t me.
Got a job.
I wasn’t interested in doing anything else special because I was tired of chasing after special. I just wanted to be good at work and be good in my relationships, be good to myself and be kind to people.
Accidents. Accidents. Hospital.
Boy, was I tired of all the things that kept happening to me. To Us.
I was really tired.
Then bam, lights out!
“Would you have let me go if the Doctor had told you that I was never going to recover?”
I had been so angry with him for asking me such a thing 3 years ago. Now, I realize what he had seen.
Because I saw it too.
Everything was quiet. The nothingness was peaceful; like being in a bubble on shallow waters; like gliding on a paper plane for hours and hours. There were no worries. None.
If this is what death was, then it was true freedom.
I’m not trying to romanticize anything because this is a thing we do. As people, we are obsessed with romanticising death and suffering but I understand that it is because, what other way would we be able to believe that we had won by overcoming both (suffering and death)?
Well, when I opened my eyes to my dad’s tears and the smell of Victor, I knew I wasn’t ready to go.
Because of love…
Because of promises…
Because of God.
Many times I’ve wondered about God, at God, for God. I’ve wondered if I’m wasting my time even bothering to believe. I’ve wondered because there’s a lot of wondering one can do when a lot of things are stalled. When investments aren’t paying off. When the fights are getting bigger and they keep eating chunks and chunks out of you. When you are in a hospital bed wondering what just went wrong.
See, there I am, romanticising suffering once again.
But for friendship…
But for companionship…
But for family.
There aren’t a lot of people I can thank God for this year because maybe they were as tired of me as I was of myself. Maybe because I wasn’t sharing as much as I thought I was. Maybe because life gets in the way of friendships. Maybe because we’ve started to outgrow one another. Maybe because my heart was and might not be in the right place right now. But I am thankful for you Ayo Aramaanda. For Olamide. For Qama. For Zuriel. For Ayobami Marius. For David. For Abraham. For Segun Maximus. For TJ. For Nemah. For Dasola. For Bukky my Titybum. For Oye. For Folusho. For Kemi and Bukky. For Alex.
That list is the shortest I’ve ever had. I’d probably never been as withdrawn as I was this year but they didn’t even care. They just sat with me and watched me and fed me.
I am thankful because I had my brothers hold my hand to the bathroom when I couldn’t stand. They carried me, fed me, sat with me, and cried with me when I wanted to just give up out of sheer pain and frustration.
I am thankful for Victor. It was a hard year, but Lord knows we made the right decision taking that big bold step (#OyinVic2015). We both know everyone thought I’d leave you at the altar. They very nearly carried me there just to be sure. I am thankful because I could always look at you and know I was (am) doing the right thing.
It was quite something, this 2015.
But you know what?
I’m still not looking for special. There’s fulfilment in the little things, in the things that you can hold and the things that make you smile when you are lying in bed.
I’m leaving 2015 with a huge scar that’ll act as a constant reminder of being here; with a husband that is still the most special thing in my life ; with friends that would push me to ignore all the drama; with hope; with my family; with the best brothers in the world; with a job that gives me joy.
And with God still in my heart.
What else could I possibly be running after?
I hope I learn the real meaning of forgiveness.
This withdrawing into our shell thing that we all run to as a refuge from everything…. Sighs