Back To The Future

This is the post I have struggled to write for weeks now. Usually when I am overwhelmed with emotion I am unable to think clearly enough to put thoughts to paper. Plus, I am emotionally unavailable for the effort, but I believe very much in documentation, so here goes…

There's a popular writing quirk on social media. The person begins a post by saying “I don't know who this is for but…” and proceeds to dish out some unsolicited advice or ‘prophecy’ or life hack that is likely to resonate with someone else. The thing about the subsequent anecdote is that it makes more meaning to the writer than any other person. So even when the writer says “I don't know who this is for..” s/he actually means “this lesson is for me, but you are likely to find it very useful too”.

Anyway…

I don't know who this is for but stop searching for meaning in the random things that happen in life. Sometimes things just happen. Period. 

On August 3rd, 2021, I packed up what was left of my belongings in Lagos, and moved over 300 kilometres to my parents’ house in Benin City, Nigeria. (This is the social equivalent of moving from New York to a quiet village in, say, Missouri. Or from Mumbai to a village in Trivandrum.) Coincidentally it would be exactly 20 years - give or take a few days - since the first time I came into Lagos, a bright-eyed, optimistic 23 year old seeking the golden fleece and a happy ending. Instead, I was leaving at the turn of two decades, a disillusioned single mum, with severe depression and anxiety,a badly-bruised spirit, and a pocketful of nothing but broken dreams. 

Even up till the last of my belongings were packed I still felt like I was in a bad dream. I could not believe that, this time, there wasn't any last minute miracle contract to pay for my rent, as had been the case in the past. Or that some job would not suddenly be offered to me after all these years of searching. Or, that for the 3rd time in my life, I was packing up and selling my possessions and moving into uncertainty. I also found it terribly difficult to make peace with the idea that I would have to return to my parents’ at the age of 44, the house that I had worked hard all these years to avoid staying in. But my financial situation was no mirage so I either had to make peace, or agree to disagree with my circumstances, and do what had to be done.

A Long Time Coming

If I am to be honest with myself, the signs were there, ages ago, that the life I was living was no longer sustainable.

I moved into my previous house in Lagos on September 1st, 2018. By the 30th, I had lost my cushy job. Because I still had at least two years on my rent, some savings  and, at that time, no bills, I assumed it was a temporary setback from which I would quickly rebound. I was wrong. Over the next two years, my life became an unpleasant kaleidoscope of work-related disappointment, personal tragedies and mounting debt. The next month I fell gravely ill and emptied my savings on treatment in several hospitals. Seven months later, I lost my father in a fire that razed his bedroom and the living room. Funeral arrangements, according to the greedily elaborate dictates of the extended family, decimated whatever was left of my money. We managed to get by till the next year but along came COVID-19 culminating in the economic and emotional wilderness that the world experienced. Before the pandemic, I had been caught in this vicious cycle of being unwilling to go anywhere because I was broke, then becoming more depressed because of my economic situation and being unable to go anywhere because of depression. The almost worldwide lockdown in March of 2020, put paid to this dangerous behaviour of mine. I wouldn't  leave my flat anymore; even to go downstairs. My excuse was that I was paranoid about catching COVID; the real reason was that I had become almost totally unable to function. 

By March of 2021, when my daughter had been out of school for a year, due to my inability to pay her fees, and I had begun selling personal property to buy food, I knew that the hope I held was gradually morphing into delusion. My self esteem was shredded to bits by job rejection after rejection, and, whatever was left of it, crushed by my inability to provide for my child and myself. Something had to give.

When I was younger, one of the things I dreaded most was the weird energy and vibe I sensed around a few adults, especially my parents’ relatives. They seemed to lack a sense of humor and always wore these disapproving looks on their faces. I understood later in life that it was the look and air of despair and disappointment brought on by being disillusioned by life. I actively tried to avoid that energy both in myself and around others, consciously and subconsciously. However over the last three years, I realised that I had began morphing into these same adults. Every morning, with each \"Mary, are you happy\" or \"What's wrong, why are you frowning\" question from my daughter, which became a daily occurrence, I knew I was clearly giving off the energy I loathed. 

Staying in Lagos, and being unable to go out, is like being bound hand and foot, and in some cases, gagged. The reason is that there is activity everywhere, everytime! Lagos never sleeps! So there are cars driving past your street at odd hours, people commuting to work well before 5am, noisy commercial vehicles, roadside vendors, planes, trains, mosque calls to prayer, churches’ loudspeaker services, etc. Not to mention that noisy neighbour playing loud, cacophonous sounds at odd hours with one broken down loudspeaker that appears aimed directly at your bedroom. (There’s one on every street.) 

And when there isn't that, there is social media showing you what you are missing. I would be online for hours feeling intense jealousy and sadness watching celebrity acquaintances at one gathering or celebration or the other that I had no involvement in. Those sights were a clear reminder of how low I had fallen and (in my mind) how hopeless the situation had become.

Reclaiming My Time

The resultant loss of independence from moving to my place to my parents' was not the only reason for my unhappiness about the move. There were two other reasons that I felt so despondent  about the move. The first was that my home, the one in which I grew up, had always denoted chaos to me.

My parents' home represented unresolved pain and trauma. Years of seeing my mum being beaten down emotionally by my father and his (side of the) family. Years of being beaten down by my own brothers and eventually fighting back. Years of sexual abuse; a secret I only shared with the tears on my pillow. When I left home and went into the world I assumed I was leaving all that behind. Over time I realised I couldn't leave it totally, but I was happy with the fact that I would only visit it when I wanted. But now I felt fright that I would have to live with it again. Permanently.

The other reason for my unhappiness was the reverse logic of the whole thing. With the incessant acts of terrorism, killings and kidnappings and the increasing inflation occuring daily, it made no sense at all to move even further into the country. The 'escape routes' (if it came to that) became more distant, the economic opportunities less available. 

When a friend asked me what my plans were if I moved back home I said to him, \"My plan is just to find rest\".

Building Boldness

If this sentiment has not echoed throughout this post then I may have to restate it. 

I feel like I have failed. I feel like I have failed dismally and disgracefully in life. 

But I also feel like I can now exhale. 

Yet I feel this failure is telling and permanent. 

But a story has many parts; and that is just one part of the story.

I have learned that a big and important part of adulthood is fixing the missteps you take, however painful it may be. Another part is facing your fears. And sometimes doing that means retracing your steps, going back to what you thought you left behind. 

I have also learned that two contradictory things can be true at the same time. A person can love you but hurt you. Tragedy can break you and build you. And a setback can derail you, but it can also redirect you.