I do not know where to start my story. I cannot pinpoint exactly where my dilemma began, I can only tell you how it ended- the very first time I realized that I have been pretending to be in the light when I had always been in the dark.
My mother, sitting on our old stripped red and brown cushion, called me to confess that she wasn’t my biological mother just a few days after my birthday. Was it good news or bad news? I didn’t know how to react. On hearing what she had to say, I realized I started becoming angry, sad, I felt everything but impressed by her story. You could tell from the look in my eye and the coldness in my palms. The fan creaked as it was rotating, the room was suddenly hotter as we stared at each other.
From my natal history, I could have turned out to be anything. I was never a troublesome child, I never came home pregnant, I wasn’t an alcoholic or a smoker, a stripper or hooker. I was living my life to the best I could. At this point, I would say that I am filled with anger, pain, and despair. So much hurt that I feel like hurting someone else but I know this is a destructive tendency, at least that was what my psychologist once told me.
“You tend to be vicious but you have to watch your emotions all the time and resort to letting go of negative emotions”
I thought my life was becoming better now that I am twenty-five. I met the man I love and loves me for who I am knowing very well that I could be unstable. I could have been married like my mates but the thing is, with time, I got to understand that I wasn’t mentally ready for such relationships rather, I wanted to build myself and my capabilities.
So why would my mom choose to confess this unnecessary truth to me now? I figured out that even if I wasn’t what I could have been in the light of my age because I just clocked twenty-five, and not much to my name, this shouldn’t be a moment of truth I would swallow in a twinkle of an eye. As I drowsily walked to my room, I turned off the lights, put the curtains down, my television was muted or so I thought because I kept staring at the screen but couldn’t hear anything. I need to call my best friend Precious. My head was hurting badly. I took off my long sleeve shirt and my trouser and laid in my underwear holding my cell phone searching for Precious’s number to dial.
“Precious good evening…’
She sounded elated. I wonder how it felt to be elated this evening.
‘Yea fine …’ I didn’t feel just excited so I asked her about her baking businesses and she was thrilled I asked. She kept talking and I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t listening because I was distracted by my worry, not because I did not care about her happiness. I cared about Precious a lot more than you can fancy.
“Ooo can you imagine how many orders I got, I had to make three queens’ cake, a sponge cake, and…
“My mom is not my mother…” I blurted the words out like I just said ‘I wanted a cupcake’.
The tone of her voice sounded calmer now “wwhhaat do you mean your mom is not your mother” she gave off a dry laugh to make it sound as if I was joking. Deep inside of her, I could tell she didn’t think it was a joke. Precious, the sister I never had known my mom since childhood. Telling her this was the best thing I thought I should do.
“So, what are you going to do?”
Her concerned question made me cry. I told her I was fine but it was a lie. This is the easiest lie I could tell anyone, even my boyfriend. I am usually fine on the outside, but on the inside, I hurt so much.
What am I going to do?
I hadn’t even realized I didn’t know what next to do. I figured out that since I didn’t have an extended family member I could reach out to, to ask questions and make inquiries, my Mom was the only relative I ever knew and I didn’t want to talk to her at all now. I feel numb. I need help and I know it. I am tired of the pills, the motivation, and the talks. I thought I was becoming better in a way. Up until this afternoon, my world spiraled to the floor. What did my Mom expect to achieve from all this?
Right now, going for church counseling is not an option for me, neither is looking for anyone to confide in, my next step. I am so confused I just want to lay in bed with my brown blanket over me. No wonder I always had so many questions I needed answers to. Like who is my real father? In as much as I am clueless about my next step, I think what I need to do is to take a break from all the madness around me and not just in me. I need to travel and write a journal of my thoughts maybe during this time I can forgive my Mom, after all, I love her so much.
The following morning, very early, I packed up my luggage and ordered a cab. I wanted to go to a place that had hills. I forgot I needed to ask Jeffry if he was okay with my brief departure. Somewhere inside me, I felt that he wouldn’t agree. I grabbed some clothes especially my favorite blue shirt, my toothpaste, and some other personal items enough for at least three days. I didn’t want my Mom to convince me to stay, emotionally blackmailing me to be around.
I went to Jeffrey’s house to let him know what was on my mind. I argued with him a bit so he could see my point and after an hour and a few minutes, he said he would accompany me and not let me on my own.
‘Oma, did you think that I would let you be all by yourself now that you need someone if not me the most?’
I didn’t want to sound selfish or act drastically out of my emotions. I have stopped my medications for a while but very sure I was only being logical I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
Jeffrey gathered his stuff which he squeezed into my bag. He checked his pocket for some change while we walked down to the street to get a cab. On our way, Jeffery slept. He told me he knew a nice place in Fuka where nature was at its peak soothing enough so we could talk and relax. I didn’t want to talk but I know I must if I wanted to let go, make sense and move on. We arrived at the local inn and checked in.
While Jeffery looked around the ill-furnished room, I poured out the contents of my bag on the bed, looking for my diary and pen. An envelope slipped out. By now, Jeffrey was out to get lunch so I was alone and a bit anxious as I tore the envelope to read it. Jeff never wrote me letters so how did this get here? As soon as I opened the envelope, the handwriting was my Mom’s. before I read it, I shook my head not knowing what to think. I swallowed a bit of courage and began reading:
My Dear, Sweet Daughter:
I am sorry for all those times I couldn’t bring myself to answer some of your questions even as a child. Oma, your intelligence has always been from birth and as you grew, you became more inquisitive. I hate to lie to you. You will always be my child.
You will never have to face depression and anxiety alone even on days your body aches with loneliness and you feel no one could understand you, I will be there to support you and listen. I cannot take away your pain, but I can sit with you in the darkness and celebrate with you when the light returns. I didn’t have much to give you while growing up but I believed that with you and I against all odds we could be happy.
I will not hold you back from being angry with me. I know that for whatever reason, telling you the truth had to happen and it is ok if you don’t talk to me for a while. Your birth mother passed away a few days after your birth. I was the nurse who held you and watched you hoping a kind family member would come and take you. Maybe it was my luck but I loved you so much I was glad no one came even after what happened. I have had my share of unhappiness but you were the light of my world. Years later, I took the time to trace your birth mother and decided that you were going to have a much better life than she or I did.
Did I ever tell you how much I loved you and feared that one day you would grow up and leave me? Oma, I can’t hold on to that fear anymore. You are worthy of love, happiness, success, beauty, romance, friendship, and every wonderful thing that comes your way.
My dear daughter, I love all of you, every part — the light and dark, your nuttiness and spirit, your profound compassion and loving hearts, your courage and conviction, your silliness and seriousness, your brilliance. I promise you, others will, too. Please find a place in your heart to understand that all I ever did was because I love you.
With all my love,
Mom.
I have so many tears in my eyes. Right now, I am glad that Jeffrey accompanied me. I needed to release the feelings I carried like a burden- the fear, anger, and anxiety. I cried for a long time and understood. I feel blessed after my tears. I never had a father figure and all I had was a parent and it was my mother, or mom I don’t care, she was always there for me. So, she knew I was going out this morning and she slipped her letter into my bag. I chuckle amidst my tears at the thought of how she did it.
‘Jeff, let’s go home. My mom is making amala and ewedu’. I told him as soon as he got into the room. He was looking excited from the door but paused to grasp what just happened.
Jeff looked me in the eye shaking his head.
‘I feel you are much better now’. He saw the letter in my hand. He walked towards me hugging me tight, slowly releasing me, he calmly held me ‘I would have to swim in that river before we go’ he pointed out through the window smiling from chin to chin ready to go.
‘okay…’ I reluctantly replied, looking forward to hugging my Mom.
Written by Theodora Ekah
1 Comment
Poignant piece!