Two years sound like a whole lot of time, but when you think of it in terms of what has really happened to you in that period, you realise it isn’t as much as you thought it was.
Two years ago, 2017 to be precise, I was almost the same person as I am today, if you chose to look at it from my appearance; no change of hair colour, no increase in height, same skin complexion, same laughter,same long nails, almost the same circle of friends, and of course, I still weigh 48kgs.
But what you may not notice, unless you are one of the few people who make up my innermost circle, is that way back in 2017, I was just a normal little human, going about life as it came, living each day at a time. I was busy juggling between campus life and handling the bizarre societal pressure. I was busy going on vacations with my small group of friends wherever we got time off our tight schedules.
Two years ago, I was just starting my writing journey and every piece seemed not enough for me. I remember my good friend Sam telling me my writing was unique, but I couldn’t just get enough courage to put it up. I was starting a blog amidst fears that people would judge me based on my writing; that people would get bored with the sad tales that seem to be my niche. I was afraid there were too many great writers out there whose master of the art I couldn’t match. But then again, Sam was on my neck and the last thing I wanted to do was let him down.
Two years ago, I was full of charm that I took it upon myself to spread the laughter to anyone else I came across. I was busy helping others find themselves, I didn’t realise I too needed to be found. I was carrying burdens deep within my heart I couldn’t tell anyone else. I was fighting tears any time I was alone. And the only way to free myself of all that trauma was to laugh it out with other people.
Sadly, no one ever realised I was faking it all.
Two years ago, I was coming into terms with the fact that it was okay not to be treated the way you treated others. That it was okay to fall and have a hard time picking yourself up. That there is a very fine line between stress and depression, and in most cases, the line is always blurred. I was learning, slowly, that it is okay to feel left out, and it is okay for people not to reach out when you keep your distance. That it was okay to not be willing to explain to people the reason for your backing out of all their activities, and it was okay, also, for them to judge you in whatever way calmed their hearts.
Two years ago, I was still taking up the fact that I was brilliant in most things I did. Excellent so to say. That I was strong in everything I handled. But that did not mean that I was free of failure. Neither did it mean that I was perfect. It meant that I was human, and it was okay to feel all I was feeling at that time.
Also, I was beginning to understand the true meaning of friendship; and love; and laughter, and life as a whole. I was learning to smile when I woke up to good morning texts. I was learning to pick my calls, rather than assuming I didn’t see them. I was learning to accept the fact that I was the first priority in everything did, and it was okay to say NO to people.
I was still learning that it is okay to be loved by someone, even when I thought I was so undeserving of their love. That it was okay to give people a chance with your heart, even after it had been trampled upon before. And while at it, it was okay to be afraid of it, and to let your fears known.
But then again, that was two years ago, and I wouldn’t want to change any bit of it.
Two years down the line, here I am staring at all I have done and I just want to cry. I recently earned the title of author, and much to my surprise, Sam was the first person to order the book. I was so afraid he wouldn’t find it as interesting as I would want it to be, but in his own words, ‘The only reason I am buying the book is because YOU wrote it.’ I have never felt that important in my whole life.
Two years down the line, I am still on the road towards finding myself and I am loving the ride. I think I am almost there, and all I can do is smile and thank God. Dreams and hopes are finally falling into place. I am learning to give myself all the love and care I deserve, to love people for who they are, and not for who I think they should be. I am serving my thoughts as raw as they are, and bracing myself for the backlash that might come thereafter.
I am learning to find peace with myself, to forgive myself, and to move on.
I am creating new heights and sliding all the way down. I am giving myself time to breathe and take a rest. I am reading one book at a time, and taking breaks in between to think about who I am and what I want to be. I am listening to my friends and cheering them on. I am learning to give a listening ear even when I do not have a solution.
I am experimenting with my hair. I so much want to lock it, but I also want to cut it short and put some colour to it. In between, I am still wearing it in that afro that keeps people asking ‘Is that your real hair?’. I want so much, but I can only get one thing at a time.
But most importantly, I have begun to understand that ‘adulting’ is not as much a walk in the park as I used to think it was, but I want to embrace every bit of it.
See you tomorrow!