Merry Christmas

I am unsure whether it's a measure of impatience on my part or it’s just me getting older and turning into my grandmother. I am beginning to find the hand to hand combat with human beings over Christmas shopping weary, it’s a little bit grating. 

Self-defence or attack?

Christmas shoppers to me always seem to prey on those they perceive to be weak of course, they want to be in and out as quickly as possible avoiding those who they think can put up a fight.  This is why as the conceived prey, you may always be at a disadvantage. Especially if you're face to face with him, the guy who has just picked your bird. If it's the last bird in the fridge and its Christmas Eve then yes, the dreaded bird is yours.

Unless you want to exit empty handed, you have to know how you can take down an opponent, this can open up bigger possibilities for you so you have to survive the attack. It's an idea however, to get out of there as soon as he's down.

This got me thinking, why do I have to be in combat with someone just to buy a bird that will take me hours to cook and will last weeks to be eaten? So three Christmas’ ago I stopped buying it, that bird wasn't going to torture me. I was going to buy at Christmas only what I liked to eat. Sandwiches this Christmas? Yes please!

Connection

This Christmas I have decided to connect more than to consume, to look around at the people around me and find the blessing in all of them.

I am going to allow myself to be disrupted.  Among the trees, the lights the presents and maybe even that bird; I will allow myself to be interrupted by the people that have been placed in my life; disrupted by the relationships that matter to me.

There is a possibility I have become complacent in some relationships, taken some for granted and even neglected some. It’s hard accepting you have been wrong at times. 

Sometimes in relationships we think it's about how tough we are when all we are required to be is vulnerable. Vulnerability gives an opportunity to be transparent, transparency allows growth in any relationship.

So this Christmas I won't cry over failed relationships I will look at the people around me and be thankful for the relationships that remain working. Failure teaches us the value in that which still remains a success.  

I will aim not to be too busy being everything to everyone that I forget to be something to myself.  Life is about what you allow God to do through you in spite of what is happening to you.  I will intentionally park with the people that not only make me become better but hopefully I too will in turn try to make others become the best they can be.

So this is not to judge you if you are still Christmas shopping or even perhaps looking for that bird, don’t forget to wear that helmet and shin pads and maybe even some gloves for the upcoming combat good luck  AND

Merry Christmas

See You Later

          

I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face. Peace to you. The friends here send their greetings. Greet the friends there by name.

I got a call telling me I needed to get home as my father was ill.  I was a little confused, being mentally ill and sectioned surely wasn't life threatening.  It turns out he was in a “normal” hospital, whatever normal may be. He hadn't been ill or anything but now they were telling me he was critical.

My plane ride home was agonising; imagine being alone on a plane, isolated, entertaining thoughts of uncertainty and despair not fully understanding the situation but praying for a miracle anyway. Terror grips you, the torture of “what if” torments you.  I panicked, the fear he wouldn't hold on, the fear that I wouldn't see him breathe, the fear of darkness, the fear of pain, the fear of the unknown….

The fear period!

I was taken straight to the hospital when I arrived, he was unconscious but I sensed he knew I was there. I had willed him to hold on, I had prayed for him to hold on and he had.

I had never seen my father look so frail, look so ill but also look so peaceful.  I remember being desperate for him to be right with God, this may not be important to others but it was important to me.  I prayed with him and asked him to give me a sign if he agreed with me. I saw the slightest of smiles, his smile gave me hope.  This was his way of saying to me its ok chick- I get my cheekiness from my father.

I remember looking around the room and being slightly aware that I had an aunt huddled in a combination of fear and panic in a corner holding  the largest praying beads I had ever seen in my life!  That memory is forever imprinted in my story about my father and for some reason in the midst of the sadness that memory makes me crack up and laugh hysterically.

 See you later

I was only with him for a few hours when his breathing changed, became slightly laboured.  In one moment I saw him breathe in, I waited, and I waited!  I remember being filled with a sense of panic that he would suffocate if he didn't exhale.

It never came.

God tapped me on the shoulders that night and said “pardon me”; Eternity interrupted time and said “excuse me, this one’s mine!”

Just like that my father stepped from this side of time into the next; just like that they moved from referring to “him” to referring to “the body”.

Someone switched off the lights in my world that day, my heart broke, somebody pulled it out of my chest cavity stomped on it and tossed it out the window!  I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch somebody.  To me, what had just happened in that moment? that wasn't right, it wasn't fair - Come on God!

My Dad died, that’s my “tag line” when people ask me about him. It sums up all the information they need.  But for me, it carries a greater reality I felt when he died that day– that I will never be the same.  I will never be the same as I was before.  

In some ways, I see life as a puzzle, every experience you have forms a piece of your unique puzzle. When combined, they form the entire picture of your life. My Dad took a piece of my puzzle with him, a piece that will never return. I am incomplete without it, I am incomplete without him.

I have learnt that it doesn't matter how badly your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.  How can it? The world can’t, no matter how badly it wants to stop.

Measure Up

.....Do not consider its appearance or its height

Measure up

There is largely pressure to “stack up” in life. We feel as if there is something wrong with us if, for example, we don’t make a certain amount of income, don’t have a large social circle, or don’t look and act a certain way in the presence of others. The list could truly go on forever.

As people I suspect we struggle with the thought that we are not good enough most of the time, the fear of not being good enough is one of the deepest and fundamental fears that rages within.

If you listened close enough, you usually would hear one primary question;

Why do I suck?

Life is usually driven by measurements of things and people around us, it’s part of a peoples DNA. Our lives are sometimes defined by these moments. We size up on the outside and forget to size up on the inside, on the things that really matter.

What is important anyway?

I have come to learn, there is more to people than what we see; there should be otherwise as humans if the outside is all we quantify we would be pretty limited. The thing is, I know what brands you wear but what's in you? I know what qualifications you hold but show me the measure of what's inside of you.  The lesson for me has been to measure HOW much and not how MANY!

I have learnt you can’t compare your way into progressing yourself, the people you compare yourself to compare themselves to other people too. The assessment of ourselves (and even others) can make us miss opportunities.  The size of the opponent must never outweigh the size of the opportunity!

Hey Hello Sailor!

I was in the university library when I saw him, not hooked up to the latest crowds or famous for driving borrowed cars, not measured up by society standards just for carrying his daddy’s name, but he caught my eye.

I had an unexplained mission in the library that day; I didn’t have any particular affinity for the library as a method of study. I sort of subscribed to the method of studying whilst laid down on my bed. At this current stage of my life, I feel I have a responsibility to say - for all you university students reading this, this mode of study is not recommended for you!!!

I saw him across levels of study books; I saw what the younger generation will call some “buff ting”!  In that moment the library took on a new meaning.

I made it my mission accidentally, on purpose, to “bump” into him from that day.
I figured you can’t ignore a face that pops up behind bookshelves and library desks, eventually you will have to succumb!

He did.

I saw what you couldn’t see with your eyes, I saw what was within and what could be. I saw what you could not measure with your eyes, but weigh with your heart. I saw the person within.

I had a bizarre desire to open up to him about my dad. Around that time my father happened to have a mental health crisis and was sectioned in the city’s mental health hospital.

I asked him if he would go with me to see my dad at the mental hospital.  Just like that no warning no prep talk, no explanation, I sprung it on him.  He agreed to come no questions asked, although slightly stunned.  He kept me company on our way there, waited for me outside as I visited my dad. He kept me company on my way back calm, stable and silent.

His action in that moment spoke to my shame, spoke to my insecurities, it spoke to my brokenness; it said to me this doesn’t define you, this is not who you are, you tower above this. It was in that moment that I knew I would marry this guy.

Poor thing, he had no idea.

You better measure what’s within - Twenty years later? I still do!

Dancing Queen

...... But continuously be transformed by the renewing of your minds

Most things are a predicament when you are teenager, self-inflicted pressure to be popular. Stop and think about the people you once tried hard to impress, makes you want to laugh doesn't it? Keep that in mind!

Mama to the rescue

Like many of my friends growing up I wasn't allowed to go to parties. It didn't matter what party it was, day party, night party, any gathering really that included the opposite sex was out of bounds.

When I was 17 I remember getting tired of hearing stories about how much fun some of my friends were having when they went out to parties. Looking back I am unsure these stories were true as there weren't very many friends going out to parties at that age to be honest, my parents weren't there only vicious parents in town!

Curiosity got the better of my friend and I, we were convinced life was happening at these parties and if we wanted to become accepted in the 'it' crowd, well this was the place we had to be. We decided we would sneak out of our homes whilst our parents were asleep and experience the “night lights”. I snuck out that night dressed in borrowed clothes from my mother’s closet (she would later call this stealing). 

The disco was in full swing, it was everything we had imagined, or so we thought, loud music bright lights and unfortunately for my parents loads of the opposite sex around! I was on the dance floor dancing to every song that came on.  Mid body lock (yes we had body popping moves in my days too) I heard the Disc Jockey over a very funky beat call out my name to go to the Disc Jockeys booth.

I looked across and froze, something instantly knotted in the pit of my stomach - sheer terror! Don’t ask me how she knew but my mother had driven to the night club, in her night attire complete with head wrap, she passed the door bouncers, walked into the nightclub with one mission in mind, to retrieve her daughter. I will cut a long story short, it was a long ride home dressed in “borrowed” clothes.

Mission accomplished

If I were given an opportunity to speak to my teenage self I would say:

All you need to be beautiful, respected, honoured, and accepted is already in you. It may not seem like it, you will see clearer when you adjust your focus. 

Pay close attention to the things that really matter and you will attract things of substance.  Fight against the addiction to self- not everything is a reflection of you!

You better trust that if you don’t have it, it’s because you aren't ready for it. Don’t chase what feels right, chase what makes you better.

I'd say to her be patient; your destination is not all that, enjoy the journey, you will wish that time would have slowed down. 

I'd warn her; it’s inevitable you will lose yourself along the way. You can’t always do things right, but no one else does either. Find your true identity and watch, when you do “they” will still be looking for the old you. Remind yourself constantly you are not who they say you are.

Choose the voices that speak to your soul, if it speaks death it will eventually kill you.

And finally I’d say girl, just because its glittery doesn't mean you have to pick up the shovel and start looking for gold.

It’s near impossible to learn a lesson you believe holds no value, there are lessons in everything and everyone.

Sister Act

Whoever wants to embrace life and see the day fill up with good, here’s what you do, say nothing evil or hurtful; snub evil and cultivate good; pursue peace for all you’re worth.

At the age of 12 I found myself in boarding school. It was an all-girls school run by Catholic nuns. We followed a strict regime, punctuated by punishment for any deviation from set rules. For some reason rules seemed to break when I was around.

I was always in trouble!

The nuns were strict, they were tough disciplinarians. They taught me structure, they taught me rules and they introduced me to Jesus. As a teenager however, I hated them and felt they were mean. I decided that their meanness was as a result of the fact that they had chosen to be celibate!  Well, that’s how my sisterhood friends and I worked it out in our heads anyway. It didn't matter the real reason, we had found the answer to world peace.

I have come to understand that celibacy is the life the nuns chose as an expression of their faith. Whether you understand it or not, whether you know some who may have lived in apparent hypocrisy or not, I guess you've got to  respect it. It’s a choice, life is full of choices. 

It’s not that bad.

Looking back, I wish I had totally embraced that journey, its experience not only impacted me positively but it also shaped the person I am today. I still clean like the nuns are coming to inspect.

I had never been away from home for any given period of time when I found myself in what we called a boarding house with 24 other girls. Honestly not sure I survived with all those female hormones in the same place at the same time.

I was paired with a girl I had known since I was four which was some consolation in the new environment I was in. We shared a bunker, I took the top bed she took the bottom. I had heard rumours the boarding house was haunted by a lady walking around in stilettos heels, a little bit like in the horror movies, they named her schooner girl.  Schooner was a type of stiletto.  To cope with the supposed situation I reminded myself we were Catholic. I had watched the exorcist; we were the good guys. The good guys always win in the end, well at least in the movies they do.

Sometime during the first few months we encountered what I can only describe as the total wrath of a nun!  It was raining one night coupled with strong winds.  From a distance I heard what I can describe as the sound of heals connecting with slab.  The tapping seemed to be coming closer to where I was. My friend had heard it too and we were nearly wetting ourselves or passing out with fear whichever of the two. We made an executive decision to sleep in the same bed.   

Big mistake, we were Catholics, we were in an all-girls school and we had just decided to sleep in the same bed! I can still hear the nuns screeching at us and my muscles still hurt from the punishment inflicted on us for this massive error of judgement. In our fearful situation, intent meant nothing to the nuns. I, however still think the decision we took in the face of walking stiletto woman was genius. I will never be sure whether schooner girl really existed or not and whether on that night it was rain water that may having been dripping down a drain pipe or something.

I have learnt to embrace the power of now, there is wealth in my boarding school experience, it set the building blocks of what my life is today.  I now with the benefit of hindsight love my experience with matching passion to how I hated it whilst there at times~ it didn't change, I did.

The undiscovered is not in the distant future, it is contained within what is right in front of us.

Check Mate

The richness of Africa lies in the bedrock of its diverse culture.

Does it have to be this way?

I somewhat believe children are moulded by the family culture into which they are born. There are certain cultures in my country of birth that are either matrilineal or patrilineal. This simply means, among many other things, that a couple’s children are either the mother’s or the father’s entire responsibility. My father’s culture was matrilineal, meaning I was my mum’s entire responsibility, whilst my mother’s was patrilineal meaning the total opposite. I was stuck in the middle, caught up in the vortex! 

Although this practice has evolved in the newest of generations, my father’s relatives chose to exercise their perceived right to this culture when dealing with me and my siblings. 
From their perspective, it meant my siblings and I had no business expecting any parental support emotional or otherwise from my father.  My dad was responsible, according to them, for my paternal aunt’s children - sounds crazy right? I spent many years fighting this!

I remember a group of them coming to my mother’s house when my parents had separated to demand of my mother that my siblings and I were to stop spending time with my father as the general consensus was we were draining my father’s resources. You've got to laugh or maybe admire a little the audacity to pull off such a request.

I struggle to capture in a few words the effect this treatment had on how I saw myself. Rejection is fertile, it breeds, at that time it was already beginning to give birth to insecurity babies.  I spent my life trying to shrink myself, trying to become something that I thought people would approve of. In my mind I needed to be a little bit quieter, a little bit less sensitive, and a little bit less opinionated. I needed to be the right level of needy and definitely a lot less of crazy. Gradually I developed an emotional hard exterior to protect myself from the hurt. I developed a ring of resolve and a quiet voice internally began to say to the situation - I will bypass you!

I did.

My life is not a finished story, it's a jigsaw puzzle still being put together; Check Mate allows me to confront just one of the pieces.  I often think I wish I knew then what I know now, that our lives are much more than the memories of our experiences and maybe all that is required, is the art of embracing ourselves. I'd given my family too much power. 

Trusting me

Healthy relationships feel good, they feel right, they don’t hurt, they’re not painful and they definitely don’t make you paranoid.  I suspect there are people all over the world who are like me, struggling with friendships, bound by the complexities of relationships that probably are calling for a separation. Life puts a requirement on us to reduce or eliminate contact with people that suffocate us, bring misery as opposed to happiness. Life requires that we check those in our lives that do not reflect or allow us to be who we aspire to be.  

My father has since passed, he would have been proud of who I have become. I hold no resentment, I have a good relationship with some of my family, sometimes forgiveness demands it. 
It is what it is.

Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture………..

Meet the President

They will rebuild the old ruins, raise a new city out of the wreckage. They will start over on the ruined cities, take the rubble left behind and make it new.

He did what?

My dad was just like any other dad on the face of it. It’s just that at times he wasn't too good. The problem with mental illness is that it lacks a marker, some sort of barometer that flashes to the world saying ‘go easy on me I am not feeling too great’.

I remember one episode when dad donned himself in a suit and headed out to state house.  For those of you that don't understand what that is, it’s the big house in which the president of my birth country lives in.

My dad walked up to the guards patrolling the formidable gates and demanded to speak to the president. According to him, he had a few issues of national interest that he wanted to iron out with the president. You don’t walk up to state house with a list of presidential hostile demands and expect to still hold to on your freedom! Needless to say my father was arrested at gun point!

We had a difficult time trying to convince the authorities that he wasn't well.  For all intents and purposes he looked the part of a successful business man. Looking back I find it comical that I had spent a large proportion of my life up until then, refusing to acknowledge publicly my father’s illness but in that moment facing the barrel of a gun, I had never been more desperate for the world to acknowledge he was a sick man.

What do you do with a guy that looks distinguished and speaks so eloquently but yet claims to be fighting mental illness? I have observed when people can’t explain a dilemma they will look for someone to blame.

They threatened to arrest my mother!!

What does it take?

A lot of people have asked me since I started to write my blog, how it is possible for someone stigmatised by her father’s illness for most of her life, can begin to publicly document her life journey. How can I speak about my dad's mental illness with ease and comfort?  To this I say it has been a process, the process has neither been easy nor comfortable.

The key I have found is to obtain emotional closure from pain resulting from encounters on lifes journeys.

Sometimes you have to give yourself what you wish you would have gotten from someone else, I gave myself acceptance, and acceptance brings peace.

I made peace with my past.

Make peace with your past because no matter what you do it's too late to change it. Forgive those that have hurt you, let go of old resentments and hurt.

It took a while, it took a process and sometimes I stumble but I remind myself to get up, look up and keep going ~the pain of what sometimes happens to you is inevitable but continuing to suffer is optional.

Ride the waves

You know that from your empty way of life inherited from your ancestors you were ransomed—not by perishable things like silver or gold

 

Prisoner?

My parents separated when I was in my teens, something to do with pressure from extended family, they never divorced for some reason. I was too preoccupied with teenage hormones to understand fully what happened. I came back from boarding school one half term and went to live with my mother and her sister.

My mother had done a good job supporting (well I call it concealing) my dad’s mental illness. She contained it within an intimate circle. This made it easy for me to wear a mask to face the world in spite of the turmoil inside of me.  She wasn't around him to cover him, I had to be mentally prepared for the bad, the ugly and the very ugly to go on blast. My dad for the first time was not around me every day,  I couldn't control the message to the world any more.  I had to accept that the world would sometimes hear gossip about him before I did.  

I wasn't prepared for the ignorance that was spoken.

I decided to be free

There is something at the core of who we are that longs to belong, to adhere to a set of societal norms. But who sets these norms? Why is it that we have to speak, act, behave or be a set way before we become accepted? What is the appropriate image? Who decides?

People will pass judgement, categorising others all the time. The difficulty with labels is that labels will keep you trapped in categories. It’s your job not to let the outside get inside of you.

My life story contradicted the act I put on, people considered me outgoing, bubbly and energetic. The truth was I was conflicted.  No one understands the struggles you face unless they walk in your shoes. To others your challenges may be minuscule but to you they rock your world.

  

I wasn't going to hide nor feel ashamed of this truth any more. This may have been the start of my life but it wasn't about to define the end. I decided it wasn't going to control me, I was going to reach up stand on this thing’s shoulders and launch myself into my future. I have since come to accept and embrace this truth.

It’s never the thing, it’s how you think about the thing that will hold you back. So now instead of cowering when I look in the mirror, I look at it and say Gurrrrrrrrl you’re so fine! 

As one writer once wrote…. those who mind don’t matter and those that matter don’t mind.

The Early Years

I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.

First things first

I was born into a family of loving parents, privileged in a way that the Western world doesn't usually see on a television advert about Africa.  My early childhood recollection was loving parents that loved each other and a house full of laughter. My parents were both tertiary educated people with ambition for their children, great friendship and to me appeared very much in love. I would later realise I searched to model this relationship in my life. 

My family are passionate people a bit like the Italians. We love our food, we love family debates and no one speaks below volume number 5.  I am the eldest of four children, originally five but one was recalled at the end of his tour of duty on earth when he was only two years of age. 

He has plans for me?

My earliest memory of sensing something wasn’t quite right with my family is maybe when I was six or seven years old. I remember my father being brought home, in a metaphorical straight jacket, by medics from the United Kingdom. He had been away to study when he had a mental breakdown and had to be brought home. Isn't it funny how when you discover something about your life, it sometimes becomes the core of who you later embrace or battle to overcome. I have observed when an experience happens it causes a single thought to occur. This thought may be a word, an image, a memory, or even all three scrambled together which has a huge potential to define who you later become.